By Ted Cox
The Cubs are in limbo, as they and their fans have been since 1908, and that was what made itself felt as we took in the spectacle of Wrigley Field two weeks ago while absentmindedly keeping a scorecard right down to the pitches. After the thrilling brilliance of the Bulls and the so-far-so-good anguish of the White Sox, it was a comfort to find the Cubs right back where we usually find them: in their Edenic ballpark, somehow returned to a state of nature, to an innocence beyond winning or losing. With a win, the W flag would go up above the bleachers and the music would play loud and festive in the Cubs’ locker room; with a loss, the L flag would go up, and as we made our way down the grandstand ramps kids would stomp beer cups sending that woeful pock-pock-pocking sound into the sky like a dirge.
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“I’m going to be aggressive. You better be ready,” he said. “That’s what I’m going to do, throw strikes and let everybody catch the ball. Last year we surprised a lot of people over the last few months, and this year we’re going to do the same thing.”
In the Chicago first inning that night against the Cardinals, Doug Glanville reached base on an error with one out and Grace followed with an infield single nubbed off the end of his bat. Then Sosa singled solidly to left, scoring Glanville. Saint Louis pitcher Donovan Osborne got behind on Sandberg 3-1 and threw him a fastball, and Sandberg–a fastball hitter if ever there was one–smashed it into the left-field bleachers. He rounded the bases with that trademark humble gait in which his eyes seem focused on a spot about five feet in front of him on the ground, and the Cubs were up 4-0. They added a couple of insurance runs in the eighth, and in between the scoring was a crisp and well-played game. Navarro finished with no help from the bull pen; in fact, he took a toss at first base from Grace on a grounder for the final out, and he pumped his fist in triumph.
