We don’t want to jinx anything, so this editorial will absolutely not be about imagining Chicago Cubs going to the World Series for a second time in as many years.
We would never do that.
It would be far too premature before the first pitch of the playoffs on Friday -- quite foolish, really -- to dream that a possible repeat of last year is in the works.
No, that would bring immediate condemnation from the baseball gods, who would cite the curse of the Billy goat, maybe the Bartman ball and then perhaps every heartbreaking season between 1908 and 2015 as reasons why one shouldn’t get too cocky.
So we will instead talk about why we’re so thankful baseball is still in our lives in October. You know, in general terms.
Because we are thankful.
The horrible shooting on the Las Vegas Strip this weekend, the threat from North Korea and the political attacks emanating Washington underscore why we need a diversion.
Baseball is just a game, but it hints at something bigger -- at togetherness, at commonality.
We need commonality more than ever.
Oh, sure, our region is divided between Cardinals and Cubs, that’s obvious. But we’re all fans of the same game, a game that so intensely points to childhood and nostalgia, of walking through those turnstiles with a parent, of smelling those smells, of seeing that glistening outfield grass so green it’s like a Kodachrome picture.
You can imagine it long after the winter takes hold.
And time marches on. New seasons, new players.
Even the old Wrigley Field looks different. There are more advertisements, more screens to catch the eye. But it still carries the charm -- the el tracks over Addison, the wind from the lake, the mandatory throwing back of the other team’s homerun ball.
We would never have the guts to suggest it’s the perfect place to see a World Series game in 2017.
That would be premature and foolish.
-- Lee News Service