In 2016, on the eve of the World Series, during the holiday of Sukkot, amid a nasty and unsettling presidential election, I found myself watching baseball like I hadn’t since childhood. The Cubs, after a 108-year drought, won the World Series title that year. This year, as I begin to ease into SF Giants fandom (gimme a break; I’ve only been in the Bay Area for 32 years), and as we head toward post-season, I think back on the lessons I learned from loving the Cubs, leaving the Cubs, and returning to the Cubs. I decided to repost this essay, written on the eve of the 2016 World Series.
This repost is dedicated to my great uncle Irving Jacobs, who died this year at nearly 103; who, along with his brothers, was a huge Cubs fan; who shared with me vivid recollections of Morris Levin (see infra) to whom he was only related by marriage; and who cried when I first read him this piece. And, of course, dedicated to my teacher, hero, and friend, Rabbi Mark S. Shapiro, of blessed memory.
