Cubbie, You Will Be Missed

I want to take a few paragraphs and mention someone many of you probably never met... A man who I didn't know very well either, but who wore his heart on his sleeve, and his favorite team on his jacket.
Norman "Cubbie" Kaiser was at least 90 years old when he died over one week ago. He had lived through the Great Depression, several wars and 90-plus years of the Cubs not winning a world series. The Cubs were his favorite team. Even as he aged, he showed up at St. Joe's Hall everyday to drink some juice, say hi to his friends, and get everyone signed up for the next bus trip to Wrigley Field. In the summer, he wore a windbreaker jacket that drown his scrawny frame, but proudly displayed the infamous red and blue logo of his hometown team. Sometimes he wore a baseball cap. In the winter months, he wore red and blue t-shirts under his heavy coat covered with fresh snow.
He met me about 4 years ago when my 88 (then 84) year old Grandpa decided to buy me a drink, since I turned 21. Needless to say, after a few hours of driving around from the Moose Lodge, the American Legion and then to St. Joe's Hall, I was feeling tipsy. Actually, I was downright drunk, but he just kept ordering me cranberry and vodka cocktails -- telling every bartender that it was my birthday, and to "make it a good one". I was trying to hang in there, but it was only 10am. It was in this state that I met Cubbie.
I commented on his Cubs jacket, and started giving him my opinion on all the ways that Dusty Baker needed to improve the team. Surely this would be the year that they won a World Series, I told him, if Dusty would just take my advice. I thought I was making a good point, but in reality, I was probably ramblilng on and on and slurring my words. But Cubbie let me finish.
When I actually fell silent, my grandpa had given up on paying attention and struck up a conversation with the bartender. Cubbie just smiled and said, "Even if they never win another World Series, the Cubs are worth the trip every time." That was it. No opinion about the manager, or the players, or bitterness about the years that they could have, and should have, made it all the way but didn't. Just a satisfied grin for a team that he loved, who had never rewarded him with a World Series win for all his years of loyalty. It wasn't about winning to him. It was about a pure love for the game and a team steeped in history and superstition.
2008 will mark 100 years since the Cubs won their last World Series title. Since then, a goat has cursed Wrigley, a man named Bartman has been exiled from Chicago for catching a foul ball and thousands of fans have lost heart. And even though I'd love to see the Cubs bring home that trophy -- this year especially -- I can imagine Cubbie cheering them on, no matter what, from a bleacher seat in the great beyond, holding peanuts, cracker jack, a scorecard and an Oldstyle draft, root root rooting for the Cubbies.