For those of you who don’t really know me, which is most of you, I am not a huge baseball fan. I haven’t been since the ’94 strike. Before the strike I was an ardent fan, baseball card collector, etc. Growing up we had great season tickets for the Cubs, and during the hallowed year of 1984, I missed out on going to a playoff game because I had strep throat. I did get to attend a playoff game when the Cubs played Atlanta in 2004, but that year, like all the others ended in heartache. Fast forward to November 2nd, 2016…the Cubs are on the verge of winning the World Series, something my 92 year old grandfather has never seen (happy he got to live to see it!), and I watch as the game goes to extra innings, and then a rain delay. I debated for moment staying awake to watch it, but already past midnight, I needed some serous sleep.
In a normal week I would have stayed up, would have jumped for joy, and most likely would be far more exhausted than I already am, but I also would have been getting normal sleep the nights leading up to it. No so this week, and why you may ask? Well, if you join me regularly then you already know that Fabulous, my gender fluid son, is now Fabulous, my transgender daughter. Yes, the Cubs World Series victory will always be tied in my mind to my daughter announcing herself to the world. As result my mind has been a whirlwind of activity, and sleep has not be my friend, so I bailed on my Cubs and went to bed.
Most Cub fans will say that winning the World Series is the greatest event of 2016, most assuredly bigger than the shit show that is the 2016 presidential election, and I would almost agree with them, until I take pause for a moment to remember a little girl wearing a checkered dress and purple Dr. Marten’s boots. A girl who smiled up at me and laughed like I had never seen her laugh in all the years of her life. The little girl is a bigger deal to me than any Cubs victory past, present, or future…and I wouldn’t have it any other way.