As I write this, the Chicago Cubs have just won the World Series. For you younger readers, you have no idea what that means, or how surreal it is to be able to say this.
I was born and raised a Cubs fan. I even posted about what it was like on this blog a few times. I have some great memories of fishing with my dad while listening to the Cubs on WGN, back when AM radio was still a thing. My dad would have loved to have seen this.
I remember meeting Uncle Bob Collins. My mom met him a few times, too. My dad even called into Uncle Bob's radio show a couple of times. Uncle Bob was WGN's top drive-time personality and eventually the top morning show in Chicago. Uncle Bob was just as much of my memories of the Cubs as Harry Carey.
Yes, I'm a sappy sentimental, romantic person and so many guys like me tend to be Cubs fans. Maybe it's because all we had were memories while telling ourselves, "Well, there's always next year."
There was always an assumption the Cubs wouldn't win it all. The Cubs would always be the lovable losers you cheered for but always knew they just wouldn't win it all. It was something we just programmed into our lives. The Cubs were the doormat of the National League and would not win.
But something happened. Somehow, the Cubs have won the World Series. And now everything changes.
When we talk about things that are impossible in this world, the Cubs winning the World Series was always in that list. How many women told men, "I won't sleep with you until the Cubs win the World Series" in some mean-spirited taunt?
I have always looked at certain things in life as just part of the world we live in. She won't go out with me. I'll never find a better job. Professionally, all I have to look forward to are dead-end jobs with no future. I'll never make more money than just over minimum wage.
And now the Cubs have won the World Series and today I was offered a job working for a company in a field I'd always loved--hunting and fishing equipment. Sure, I need to do some work to make it happen. And everything is happening quickly.
But I want this and I need this. And if the Cubs can win the World Series, then I can get this job. I can get some more stories published this year. I can get into more anthologies. I can get my novel written and published. I can find Her. I can find the woman who makes me comfortable. I can find a woman who won't press charges.
For most of the night, I've had anxiety. I've worked for this company for eight years and I should have left a long time ago. And now I've found myself in a position to leave and get into a company I really like for more money. The sheer prospect of change made my head spin, my heart beat erratically, and I grew nauseous. I'm not good with change.
It's fear. I've been through a lot in my life. Most of it was awful. In the past, when I attempted to make positive changes in my life, those changes ended up with me getting hurt. Life dropped me on my head a few too many times and I simply do not trust the potential of things. There are no promises I believe in and there are no greener pastures out there. If it looks green, I know for a fact it's a minefield, and there's a sniper out there just waiting for a clear shot.
For me, change has always meant opening myself up to loss and set-backs, and I have so little right now. I cannot afford to lose what little I have worked so hard to attain.
I'm terrified of change.
You know that motivational poster that went around for a while? The one where the person said, "But what if I fail?" and the response was, "but what if you fly?" I hate that. I've always hated it. Odds and probability are more certain and the odds of me getting burned again always seem higher than the odds of moving upward and onward.
I'm terrified of change for some very good reasons.
But this job I've got right now has been like being at a party way past the end. People have gone home, the place is a mess, there's no more booze, and everybody who is still there wants to go to bed. I should have left this company a long time ago. But I stayed because I was terrified of what's out there. The harsh realities are swimming in the dark waters around me in search of unsuspecting victims. I was determined not to let those harsh realities take more away from me.
So, I stayed.
But the Chicago Cubs won the World Series. Impossible things can happen. The Cubs were cursed and so was I. But what I saw tonight and into the wee hours of the morning is what is looks like when a curse is broken. And for the first time in a very long time, I feel like I live in a world where good things can actually happen to people who get their asses kicked as part of the routine of their lives.
If the Chicago Cubs can win the World Series, then I can leave my dead-end job, and go work at a company with a future and the potential for upward mobility, dealing with products I dearly love and enjoy.
I can do this. And do this, I shall.
Go Cubs, Go!
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