In 1908, Napoleon Hill went to meet
Andrew Carnegie to pick his brain
for a magazine article. An interview
that was supposed to last one
hour turned into three days. Carnegie
gave Hill the challenge of creating a
book on the philosophy of success and
instructed Hill to interview over 500 of
his successful friends — people like
Henry Ford, Thomas Edison, Alexander
Graham Bell, and John D. Rockefeller —
to uncover the secrets of this philosophy.
The result of Hill's effort? The alltime
classic book Think and Grow Rich.
Many people believe this book is
responsible for more entrepreneurial
success stories than all the business
schools in America combined.
1908 also saw the first Ford Model T
automobile and the founding of the
Boy Scouts of America. New York City
began dropping a ball in Times Square
on New Year's Day, and Mother's Day
was observed for the first time. But
1908 is a most important year for diehard
Cub fans like me: It was the last
year the Chicago Cubs won the World
Series in baseball.
I went to a Chicago public school, so
I'm not real good at math, but that's a
long time folks. I try to explain away my
team's lack of rings by saying, "Hey,
lighten up — anybody can have a bad
century ..." I'm all for keeping the faith
and being persistent, but I admit I'm tiring
of the Cub fan battle cry: "Wait until
next year!" And I've had it up to here
with the ongoing lame excuses: the
billy goat curse, the black cat at Shea,
too many day games, the ever-faltering
bullpen, the corked bat, Steve Bartman.
By contrast, the New York Yankees have
won the World Series 26 times, and
they didn't get their first until 1921.
Even more confounding: The Arizona
Diamondbacks won it all in 2001, and
they've only been around since 1998.
And the Florida Marlins, whose fans
barely show up to see them, have won
two since their inception in 1993. Every
other major league baseball franchise
(except for a few expansion teams, who
don't count) has won it at least once.
Boston got theirs in 2004 after an 86-
year drought, and even the archrival the
Chicago White Sox, non-winners since
1917, grabbed one in 2005. (Cub fans
are still reeling over that ...)
The NHL started up in 1917, the
NFL in 1922, the NBA in 1946.
Although I don't follow all the other
leagues and teams around the globe,
I'm going to go out on a limb and
declare the Chicago Cubs "The World's
All-Time Losingest Sports Franchise."
(So I guess they're Number One in
something ...) How then do I explain
how this team draws millions of fans
like me year after year to its ballpark,
The Friendly Confines of Wrigley
Field?
Is it nostalgia? Wrigley Field's located
smack dab in the middle of a residential
neighborhood — you're walking
down the street and all of a sudden,
"Hey — there's a ballpark!" That's
"park," not stadium. Its ivy-covered
walls, the hand-operated scoreboard,
the quaint open-air architecture with
views of Waveland and Sheffield
Avenues and the lake beyond, the
close proximity of the fans to the players,
do recall a time long past.
Intergenerational bonding? I remember
my mom taking me to the games on
Ladies' Day back in the late '50s. I can
see my dad blowing a gasket when the
closer blew yet another save on the
tube. And who didn't want to play
shortstop for the Cubs after your parents
took you to see Ernie Banks play?
Shrewd marketing? Sure, "Brand
Cub" gets a lot of exposure on its
superstation WGN-TV. You can probably
see a Cubs T-shirt on a sherpa in
Nepal. And I'll bet superfan Ronnie
"Woo-Woo" is on the payroll.
Chicago's largest open-air beer garden?
Going to a Cubs game is like
going to a Grateful Dead concert:
Sometimes they play well, sometimes
they suck, but you always have a good
time. Isn't it nice that you can get away
from the pressure of our society's
"winner take all" mentality once in a
while? The ongoing party in the stands
regardless of the score makes it seem
all worth showing up for — when the
Cubs get bombed, we do too. And it's a
good thing the Wrigleyville bars and
restaurants are conveniently located to
provide recuperation from yet another
agonizing defeat.
But although all of the above are in
the mix, here's what I believe is the
REAL secret: The Chicago Cubs allow
me and the rest of the mighty Cub
Nation to rant, rave, and rage like
loons over their legendary ineptitude.
No matter how bad things are going
for me, no matter what daunting challenges
I face, no matter what my
coaching clients throw at me, for three
hours on a summer day SOMEBODY
is worse than me — and it's Da
Cubbies! The therapeutic effect cannot be overestimated — would you rather
give your money to a shrink or to a
team with a shrinking winning percentage?
No contest!
So I guess you could call me an
addict in need of a recovery group that
doesn't exist: "Hi! My name is Jim,
and I'm a Cub fan." And there is no
cure. Even my dear departed parents
were born after their last championship.
But let me tell ya: The Grand
Canyon? Been there. Eiffel Tower?
C'est bien. The Taj Mahal? A nice crib.
But gimme a packed Wrigley Field on
a warm summer Friday afternoon, the
Cubs playing the Sox or Cardinals, me
sitting there with some fellow fanatics,
a cold Bud in hand, a prayer on my
lips, and the opportunity just one
more time to keep the seemingly
impossible "champion" dream alive —
the one that always seems crippled in
the bottom of the ninth and then dies
by the end of September — man, it's
the most beautiful place on the planet.
In closing, let me paraphrase A
Dying Cub Fan's Last Request by the
late, great Steve Goodman, a born-andbred
Chicago folksinger who, like me,
never saw the Cubs in a World Series.
He captured the essence of our breed in
this song — I hope I'm not singing it to
my loved ones gathered by my
deathbed, but I have a funny feeling I
will be — the feeling of being a Cub fan:
I'll never see The Friendly Confines
When I take my eternal rest,
So get out your pencils and scorecards
And I'll lay out my last request:
Give me a double-header funeral at
Wrigley
On some sunny day in July.
Play "Take Me Out to the Ballgame"
And then "Na-na, Hey-hey, Goodbye."
It's a beautiful day for a ballgame ...
C'mon Ernie — let's play two!
Somebody get Harry Caray back
To shout 'Holy Cow!' for you.
Have the Cubs blow a lead in the ninth,
Strand the tying run on third base,
Then burn my body on the mound
And dump my ashes in the lake.
My friends will say "Jimmy — that's
awful!"
They'll go, "Stop — it's a cryin' shame!"
I'll whisper, "Don't cry — we'll meet
by and by
At the Heavenly Hall of Fame."
I've got season's tix for the Angels now
So that's just what I'm gonna do,
But you'll go on living — you're stuck
with the Cubs —
So it's ME that feels
sorry for YOU!
Since developing his first coaching program in 1982, Success Skills Coach Jim Rohrbach, "The Personal Fitness Trainer for Your Business," has coached hundreds of business owners, entrepreneurs, and sales professionals on increasing their clientele.
Learn more about Jim Rohrbach at
www.AdvantEdgeMag.com/CoachsCorner.
To find out how a Nightingale-Conant coach can help you become a high achiever, call us at 877.512.3100 to speak with a coaching representative.
