Happens Every Time.

Every Thursday, I go and play basketball with some of my friends. I've been going to the same place, every Thursday at 8:30 for about 13 years now. Yeah, occasionally I'll skip a Thursday, and when I was married and back in Nogales I didn't go, but basically it's the same routine. The people I play with have been consistent as well, although from the time I started to now there's only about 4 or 5 of us left. The rest of the guys haven't been going that long. Overall, there's a group of about 20 or 25 of us who play. We don't all go every Thursday, usually it's about 12 or 13 of us who are the most consistent, but all in all that seems about right. Maybe even a few more, actually.

Anywho, every year we have a tournament. We make 5 teams (different each tourney), and all play each other twice. After this, the top 4 teams advance to the semifinals and the winners of that play for the championship. At the end of that game, we celebrate with some beer, and have a nice party.

Last night each team was going to play twice because we had missed a few Thursdays (rain, refs didn't show up, etc.) Coming into last night, the standings were:

1. Reds (my team): 5-1
2. Blues: 5-1
3. Yellows: 4-3
4. Whites: 2-4
5. Blacks: 0-7

As you can see, we are very creative with team names. 

First game last night, we played the White team and lost badly, dropping us to 5-2, and probably out of the first place race. However, in a shock, the Yellow team beat the Blue team, dropping them to 5-2 as well, and finishing up the round robin themselves with a 5-3 record. In an even bigger shock, the hapless Black team beat the White team in the next game, finally winning one, but still finishing at the bottom of the standings and eliminated from the semifinals. After all of that then, the standings were as follows:

1. Reds: 5-2
2. Blues: 5-2
3. Yellows: 5-3
4. Whites: 3-5
5. Blacks: 1-7

Last game of the evening, and of the round robin, was to be for first place. It was the Red team vs. the Blue team. Seeding was also going to be an issue, as we use a classic 1 vs. 4 and 2 vs. 3 semifinals pairing. Yellows and Whites were set, so it only mattered to us and the Blue team. In the round robin round, we had beaten the Yellow team twice, and had gone 1-1 vs. the White team, whereas both the Blue team's losses had come vs. the Yellows. So game on... we win, we play against the Whites, we lose, we play against the Yellows for a spot in the championship game. 

Game starts, and the Blue team is all over us. At one point, the score is about 19-2 in their favor. It was awful. I couldn't run because I had sprained my ankle, another one of my guys was basically useless, and they were on fire. Everything they were throwing up was going in. But sure enough, they start to cool off, things start to go a little our way, and at the end of the 3rd quarter we're only down 6 points. 

So now it's a game! With about 1 minute left, we're down by two points, and one of my guys gets a great steal and drives for an open layup, tying it up. The Blue team brings it up court, and their point guard fucks up, I end up with the ball, pass it to a streaking teammate (same guy who scored the last shot), and he's intentionally fouled as he's running for an open layup, which means he gets 2 free throws, and we get the ball. There's 12 seconds left. 

He misses the first free throw. Still tied. 

He makes the second one. We have our first lead of the game. I remind you, there's 12 seconds left. 

All we have to do right now is inbound the ball, and they'll be forced to foul, we could eat some clock, make a couple of free throws, and we got it in the bag. First place, and playing the Whites in the semifinal round. So what happens? My guy fucks up the inbound pass, it gets stolen, and their guy waltzes in for an uncontested layup, giving them a 1 point lead, with 6 seconds left. We call time out, and "design" a play, which is basically, give it to our best guy and have him create a shot. Of course, they're expecting it, so they blanket him, and we give it to one of the other guys, he throws up a shot, I see it's not going to make it to the rim, I crash the boards, get the rebound, pump fake, go up for the shot, and I'm fouled across the back. Two free throws, 1 second left on the clock. If I make them both, we win. If I make one, we go to overtime. 

If I make them both, we win. 

If I make one, we go to overtime.

If I make 2 free throws, we win the game. 

If I make 1 free throw, we tie and go to overtime.

That's the first conditional... I think. 

I'm confident. Even though I haven't played a great game because of my sprained ankle (which turned out to be worse than I thought, I woke up today and it was pretty bad), I've picked it up in the second half, making some tough shots, grabbing some rebounds, and overall contributing to our comeback. I would say I'm around a 70% free throw shooter, so I'm confident I'll make at least one. People watching are catcalling, giving me shit, laughing it up (they're pretty drunk)... the other team is trying to psych me out, my teammates are encouraging me, all that good stuff. 

First one goes up, rattles around, touches every single part of the rim, tickles my balls with a feather, and the fucking ball doesn't go in. When I say it touches every single part of the rim, I mean it. It's not one of those that spin around and then bounce out. I shot it softly, intending to drop it in, it bounced a bit on the front, took a right hand turn, and very, very slowly spun, hung on the lip of the rim for what seemed to be an eternity, and didn't go in.

Fuck. 

I was crushed. I really was. People were laughing, my guys were clapping me on the back, and I still had one more to go. Remember, if I make this, we go into overtime, and I felt good about our chances. After all, we had come back from a huge hole all the way to this moment. But I knew I was done. I knew I would never make the second free throw. The reason I was sure I wasn't going to make it is because I saw that first free throw as like a snapshot of my life. 

I take my shot, and I miss. I get close, and the ball doesn't fucking go in. Every fucking time. It really shouldn't surprise me anymore, but I get irrationally confident that it has to go in once. And that's all I need. I just need it to go in one. fucking. time. But it never does. Sometimes the failure is spectacular and I go down in flames, sometimes I get oh so fucking close before the rug is pulled out from under me. 

Just like that fucking free throw. 

That's it. 

The Cubs.

For some reason, I've always been a Cubs fan. It doesn't really make much sense. I'm from Mexico, and almost everyone I know grew up a Dodgers fan. And I get it. I mean, Fernando Valenzuela changed everything for us. Lord knows my father tried his my older brother and myself into Dodger fans. We had the uniforms and everything (my brother was Steve Sax, I was Ron Cey). From then on, we were almost obligated to love the Dodgers. I don't know if my brother ever did, he doesn't seem to have a particular allegiance to any baseball team, as a matter of fact. But that's besides the point. 

I think it was the Ron Cey dodger uniform that did it for me. I would watch him play, and he seemed like such an unlikely star. Here is this diminutive man playing the hot corner at 3rd base, and doing a fantastic job of it. When he would go up to bat, he looked completely out of place, like a 1st grader finally getting to play with his older brothers. His bushy mustache added to the comedy of the whole thing, and made him that much more endearing to me. 

When he joined the Cubs, I was there with him. I mean, as much as one could be back in those days. No internet, no Twitter, no 24 hour sports news cycles, we just had our local rag and an occasional episode of SportsCenter to keep us in the loop. I live in Mexico, so it was even harder for me. 

So I was a Cubs fan. That was it. Ryne Sandberg took Cey's place as my all-time favorite, and I stayed with them every step of the way. Promising seasons from Mark Grace, a playoff run or two that ended almost as fast as it started (I will forever hate Will Clark for pummeling my Cubbies in 1989). 

Then 2003 happened. Kerry Wood. Mark Prior. Dusty Baker. Aramis f'n Ramirez. Kenny Lofton. Carlos Zambrano. And our big guy, Sammy "Eeees so reeeeal" Sosa. They did great! They won the Division! They seemed poised to get to the World Series, just needing to get past the Braves and then the Giants or Marlins. It was destiny!

For a while there, it was. They were moments away from beating Florida in Game 6 of the NLCS and going to the World Series, where they would face the mighty Yankees. Even that seemed right. That the curse would end against the winningest team in MLB history was just... fitting. And then.... hell. Foul ball popped up, and poor Steve Bartman just happened to be in the worst fucking place at the worst fucking time. Never mind that at least 20 others reached for the ball, or that we don't even know if Moises Alou makes that catch. Never mind that a myriad of other things still had to happen for the Cubs to blow the game, which they did (they ended up giving up 8 runs that inning). Never mind all that. Steve Bartman was the scapegoat. Steve Bartman was to blame. 

That's awful. This guy is a lifelong Cubs fan. I'm sure he would give up anything to take that moment back if it meant his beloved Cubbies get to the World Series and make history. Instead, the Marlins take the series and wind up winning the whole thing (worst World Series champs ever, by the way, even if they have 2). I didn't see the game live. I was in class, on my laptop, and last I checked, the Cubs were still winning. When I got home, I was shocked to see that final 8-3, and even more shocked when I saw the reports and the hell that this poor guy was catching. 

ESPN recently ran a documentary chronicling the whole thing, and the despicable behavior thousands of people demonstrated that night. I get it, it's the heat of the moment, but nobody deserves that treatment for doing what anybody else in his position would've done. Are you seriously telling me you wouldn't reach for a foul ball? You're watching your beloved team, in the greatest baseball stadium still standing.. OF COURSE you would reach for a foul ball. 

Steve Bartman has gone into hiding. In this day and age, with the Facebook, and Twitter, and all of this shit, that's a feat unto itself. I know he feels bad about what happened that night. I know he thinks about it every day. He could've parlayed his "blunder" into millions of dollars by now, but instead he's kept quiet, probably waiting for that one perfect moment. That one perfect moment when the Cubs win the World Series. 

I'm waiting too. I'm waiting because I'm a Cubs fan. I'm waiting because I'm a sports fan. I'm waiting because it's going to be historic. 

I'm waiting because Steve Bartman would finally get the peace he deserves. 

Go Cubbies.