History is made

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If you watched Game 7 on Wednesday night, then there is not really much left to add.

Given the plot-twisting excitement of the game, with the stunning comeback by the Cleveland Indians in the 8th inning against the game’s hardest throwing closer, followed by a drama-halting rain delay, and then one more comeback attempt by the Indians that ultimately fell short — it would have been an extremely memorable game no matter what.

But since it was the decisive game of the World Series between two teams that hadn’t won in a combined 176 years, it may go down as one of the — if not the — greatest baseball games of all time.

For those who aren’t major fans of the sport but understood the significance enough to tune in — understand that you just watched something that will probably be talked about for ages to come.

Yes, I was rooting for the Indians, and yes, I fell into an uneasy sleep knowing that Cubs fans’ misery ended before mine (my beloved Mets have not won a World Series in my lifetime), it’s hard to stay mad when you appreciate what the Cubs just accomplished.

And on a side note, I went to Wrigley Field for a game this year for the first time. And who knows, it may be my only time. It would be pretty neat to say that the only game I’ve ever watched there came in the season in which the Cubs won it all.

The game drew 40 million viewers, equaling the most in 25 years. It demolished the CMA Awards on ABC, which drew just 12.8 million.

But there’s really nothing more left to say. Congratulations to the Chicago Cubs and their fans. Especially Bill Murray.

Actually, congratulations only to Bill Murray.

And now, our attention turns back to the final weekend before the presidential election. We can all take some solace in knowing that we are so close to being done, and maybe — just maybe — we can all return to our normal lives next week without living in a world where a verbal political assault can break out at any given moment.

In five days, we will know who our next president is.

Hey, Wednesday night might not be the first time the blue team beats the red team.

This year’s World Series is a sadist’s nightmare

When you’ve been obsessed with sports your entire life, and have loyally supported the same teams through thick and thin, it’s always painful to watch another team celebrate at the end of the season.

Only one team wins in each sport. Odds dictate that the team will not be yours.

But over the course of years, decades even, it’s got to happen eventually, right?

Since I started this dubious blogging endeavor seven years ago, my sports fandom — Mets, Jets, Knicks, Rangers — has shown itself on occasion. Each of those teams has experienced mixed levels of success, including two championship appearances, though no wins.

In fact, those four teams have won a combined one championship since I’ve been alive — which happened 22 years ago. Needless to say, it has not been fun watching sports for 99 percent of my life.

So if I am going to be miserable, I might as well root for everyone else to be miserable along with me. And call me a sadist, but it gives me great satisfaction to know that other fans have suffered even worse than I have.

And those fans include those who support the Chicago Cubs and the Cleveland Indians.

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Well, the suffering for one of those fan bases will come to a long-awaited end by no later than Wednesday night, as the two teams are currently embattled in a fierce contest to determine our next World Series champion.

You think my 22-year championship drought sounds rough? Well, fans of the Cleveland Indians haven’t seen a World Series since the end of World World II, in 1948.

And that’s nothing compared to what Cubs fans have been through. The last time they won a title, the Roaring ’20s were still more than a decade away.

The Cubs haven’t won since 1908. And as of this writing, their hopes of breaking that extraordinary streak hang by a thread, as they trailed the Cleveland Indians 3 games to 2 in a best-of-7 series.

I’m rooting for the Indians. Like I said, I am a sadist. I cannot stand to see another fan base in a state of euphoria, and that is exactly what will happen whenever the Cubs finally do win it all.

And it’s cruel for me to say that because there are people who have lived extremely long, full lives who have not seen a Cubs World Series. For Cubs fans that are anywhere from 90 to 100 years old, this might very well be their last chance to see their beloved team come out on top.

And yet, I’m still desperately pulling for the Cubs to fail.

I just can’t help it. In all walks of life, I like to see people succeed and have their dreams come true.

But when it comes to sports, if I’m not going to be happy, then I want to bring every one down with me.

Do what you do best, Cubs.

Squash the hopes and dreams of your all fans.

I believe in you.

Weinblog does the Windy City

Sometimes cities have weird and exaggerated nicknames. Philadelphia as the City of Brotherly Love? Yeah OK.

New York is The City that Never Sleeps? That’s some hyperbole if I ever heard it.

And I know that Los Angeles in Spanish translates to the City of Angels. But I’ve been to Los Angeles twice. Haven’t spotted a single angel. Even a Nicolas Cage sighting would suffice. But no.

Chicago, on the other hand, has absolutely earned its nickname. It’s so windy there that I almost bottled up some of it and brought it back as a souvenir.

I love visiting new cities and discovering the culture, the people and the vibe. Experiencing its identity. It’s interesting because since I live so close to New York, people tend to use it as the point of comparison to other cities.

“It’s like a mini New York.”

“It’s like New York, except…”

“The people there are so much nicer than New York.”

Well that last sentence pretty much applies anywhere. Except maybe Detroit.

But anyway, calling Chicago a “mini New York” does not do the city justice, because it’s freaking huge. There’s so much to see and do there that it deserves its own stature.

Being there for only three days, I made sure to do the things every tourist needs to do. Go to a Cubs game. Eat deep dish pizza. Stand on top of the Willis Tower (formerly the Sears Tower). And, of course, take a picture in front of the Bean (properly called the Cloud Gate).

Going to Wrigley was especially a huge thrill for me, being a huge baseball fan who has now watched a game in more than a dozen stadiums across the U.S. It’s the second oldest baseball stadium behind Fenway Park, which I have also been to.

The Willis Tower, by the way, is the second tallest building in the nation, topped only by the newly built One World Trade Center. The tower’s Skydeck allows you to stand on a transparent glass panel that juts out of the building and lets you look straight down. It’s not recommended for those with a fear of heights.

And the deep dish pizza shouldn’t legally be defined as pizza. It was delicious, don’t get me wrong, but it was basically just a volcano of cheese and sauce.

Chicago is a very clean, accessible city with its fair share of diversity, giant buildings and very limited places to park. If you’ve never been, I’d recommend going immediately.

Next, my travels take me from the appropriately-named Windy City to Phoenix, which people apparently call the Valley of the Sun.

Something tells me that nickname will also hold true.