Well, opening day at Wrigley Field certainly broke the ice.
After a long, cold, snowy winter, Chicago was ready for it and only a win would suffice.
Fukudome came through with a sizzling bat,
But the closer Howry threw pitches as big as a cat.
Oh well, there's another game on Wednesday
and about 160 after that.
Plenty of peanuts and beer to sell
and crisp cracker jack.
I know, you moan, with the dyspepsia of a true fan --
it's been a century since the Cubs won the series
it's time to end the goat's ban.
Wait a minute, didn't Ernie open the season?
His presence and statue, typos and all, give us a reason
to holler and hoot for DLee, A-Ram and Woody
to play their best and not sleep in.
I'll be up there in the grandstands
with my Dad and my girls,
hope springs eternal
and we come for the thrills.
So let's play two and hit for the ivy
not getting lost in history and South Side rivalry.
For the Cubs aren't always about winning
although that's always a delight
they're there for the epic struggle
and the grit of the fight.
It's doesn't matter what year it is
or if the dugout hosts a Lou or Leo
we have to live in the moment
and not let the past congeal.
It's time to play ball and get in the game
throw back those homers and go insane,
for the Cubs are an illness
of which there's no cure
baseball is zen, of that much I'm sure.