Can’t say I didn’t warn you about putting any hope (or bets) on the Chicago Cubs’ chances of actually playing in a World Series.
As I reported, they were last in that position back in 1945, and it ended up somewhat similar to this year’s pathetic showing in the National League Championship Series.
Wouldn’t you think that after waiting 70 years for an encore, they could at least scrape up one winning game in the National League Championship Series? That is exactly the reason I believe their dismal record is related to some kind of horrific entity that is much meaner than the poor goat! In fact, I greatly resent the fact that a poor excuse for a professional baseball team has often used a perfectly innocent goat from the past as its excuse for continual defeat.
Believe it or not, Hillsboro is home for a number of misguided Cub fans who, apparently, have either lost touch with sports reality or are somehow in contact with another world where victory actually shows up on occasion at the “friendly confines” of Wrigley Field.
With that thought in mind, I have to report what used to be called a “sidebar,” which was a small extra story that related to the news of the day. Years ago at the Chicago Tribune, a “side bar” could also be a place that caused many reporters to be a wee bit late returning to the office after lunch!
After my last rant on the Cubs a few weeks back, baseball fan Dick Sweeney phoned to report that the first Major League ball game he ever attended was at Wrigley Field during that 1945 World Series!
He relived some of the magic of that day when his father took him to experience the thrill of actually seeing the Cubs playing in a World Series. Since then, he has patiently waited for another baseball thrill of that magnitude, but unfortunately the current Cubbies couldn’t even win a game in the National League Championship Series.
It’s good to know that Dick and his dad had the good foresight to attend the 1945 World Series that eventually catapulted the Cubs into a world of baseball despair.
***
Last week, under orders from Jane, sometimes affectionately referred to as “my live-in nurse,” I was sent up to Peterson Pharmacy to get a flu shot from Rhonda Peterson.
That “live-in nurse” title, by the way, carries special significance in my family because when we first dated back in Chicago Jane was a pediatric RN at Children’s Memorial Hospital.
Shortly after our marriage, I had to spend a few days at another hospital, Northwest Community, where Jane visited often and knew a few of the nurses.
My personal hospital decorum would probably make me a good candidate to be a patient at Children’s Memorial in their eyes and one comment I’ll never forget came from one of them who had been taking care of me.
After dealing with some special grumpiness, she looked me right in the eye and stated, “I want you to know, Mr. Knowles, that most of us on this floor think that you certainly married the right kind of nurse!”
Ouch!
By the way, Rhonda gives totally painless shots, and I always feel like a kid when I think of all the years she was a school nurse!
