Prelude to a season

The 2012 Cubs were made up of veterans who were past their primes and young, unproven players who would probably not be making a career of baseball. Sports radio jockeys referred to them as a AAA team, and Sox fans joked about the Cubs magic number to reach 100 losses on the season. Cubs fans stopped coming to Wrigley Field, and, for the first time in decades, the famous bleacher seats were available for purchase at rates well below the retail value. Season ticket holders tried to unload their tickets, preferring to take a monetary loss rather than to drag themselves to yet another game.

But there were a few of us who would live and die with the team, whose veins ran with Cubbie-blue blood, who never lost hope that each game could end with raising the W flag. And we were rewarded with bright spots, including a resurgence in the career of 36-year old Alfonso Soriano, who would finish the season with more than 30 home runs and over 100 RBIs.

And then there was talk of a savior for the team, the pressure to become the next Babe Ruth, with the young Anthony Rizzo. Fans and critics cried for him as early as spring training, so when he was called up from AAA shortly before the All-Star break, and when he hit an RBI double to win the game in his first Cubs appearance, Cubs fans began to believe again, at least for a little while.

There was also the quietly-perfect second baseman Darwin Barney, who broke a few errorless streaks without flash, his incessant gum-chewing more noticeable than his basket-grabs and double-plays. When his errorless streak ended on a hot September night in Arizona, the city of Chicago would weep on both sides of town, because it was impossible not to root for Barney.

And David DeJesus, the lead-off man who was as good as he was beautiful, skilled solidly in every aspect of the game, but not in one skill so great as to be outstanding, had an on-base percentage higher than anyone on the team. One of the most underrated players of his day, DeJesus quietly flew under the radar on the field and off the field, as he and his otherworldly-beautiful wife Kimberly spent countless hours in charitable endeavors. And each game he started on one knee, praying to a God who had blessed him with a beautiful life and a beautiful heart.

Ultimately, this team did not win any significant awards. But those boys of summer saved the life and revitalized the heart of a woman without hope. I started that season with nothing to live for and I ended it believing again.

In my eyes, these boys did something bigger than win a World Series, more important than setting records. They represented everything that is beautiful about baseball. This is their story, and mine.