By Charlie Peckman
On any given day, millions of people climbing poles, shouting chants, and roaming in hordes through the streets of Chicago would symbolize some type of menacing insurgence. When the Chicago Cubs win the World Series, however — and for the first time in 108 years — this behavior is to be expected.
Among the millions of people in Grant Park on Oct. 4 for the Cubs’ World Series rally, this Daily Iowan reporter stood drowning in a never-ending sea of blue. The rally and subsequent festival, which was deemed as the seventh largest gathering in human history by Fox 32 news, was truly a sight to behold.
With fervent anticipation — and hours before the parade was even scheduled to begin — eager Cubs fans stood united by one cause, an 8-7 victory in Game 7 of the World Series against Cleveland.
Although the parade was on Nov. 4, the celebration itself began mere seconds after Kris Bryant fielded a ground ball to third base, not only ending Michael Martínez’s at bat but the 113th World Series as well.
As I stood on Michigan Avenue shoulder-to-shoulder with Cubs fans of varying intoxication, an eerie calm came over the crowd. At 11:45 a.m., with hurricane-level force, cheering began.
Trollies festooned with Cubs-related décor came rolling down the street, and as they inched closer, the level excitement of the crowd only grew.
Players, coaches, executives, and Cub legends all traveled by in what seemed like an instant. Those standing around me pointed at the trolleys — not in a sanctimonious manner, naming players to show off their Cubs knowledge — but in awe that Chicago’s heroes were standing just feet away from them.
Once the parade portion of the event ended, the sea of blue once again walked en masse to Grant Park for the rally.
There, executives, coaches, and players had the opportunity to share what the World Series win means to them, and more importantly what it means to the city of Chicago. After the speeches ended, country singer Brett Eldredge, led the approximately 5 million Cubs fans in an acoustic rendition of “Go Cubs, Go.”
The only words I can muster to describe that moment are spine-tingling. There was no negativity, no violence, not even any election talk, just 5 million people singing a song about a beloved team.
I have never been afraid to admit that I am a Cubs fan. Growing up in the south suburbs, however, I was perpetually verbally abused by my relentless circle of friends, all of whom were White Sox fans.
The insults, although relentless, became rather cyclical as time went on. Phrases such as “When’s the last time you won the World Series?” and “Oh, how are the Cubbies doing?” became normal to me.
It has been more than a decade since the White Sox have won the World Series, and I can now call those friends, probably sounding like a lunatic in the process, and laugh in their faces about the Cubs’ win.
My own personal lunacy aside, now is not a time for such nonsense. Now is a time of celebration. This is the year pigs fly, this is the year hell freezes over — this is the year the Chicago Cubs win the World Series.