Dein erstes Forum » and converting all five save chances at

CHICAGO -- CUBS FANS awoke Wednesday to one last wait, with little to do before Game 7 but think, about themselves and their families, about the people whove come and gone during these 108 years of failure. Hundreds found themselves drawn to Wrigley Field, where workers were already breaking down the concessions and cleaning out the freezers. Some people said they didnt even mean to come. They started off on a trip to the store and ended up standing in front of the stadiums long brick wall facing Waveland Avenue. Many wrote chalk notes to the dead. Some dedicated messages. This ones for you, Dad. Others wrote names. Dan Bird. Ben Bird. Eugene Hendershott. A man with a bright smile but melancholy eyes wrote the name of his late wife, Andrea Monhollen. They met four blocks from here, on Racine. Shes been gone six years.Cancer, John Motiejunas said.He looked around at the names, each one as special to some stranger as his wifes name is to him. All these chalk ghosts longed to see a day like this one. Each name represented an unfulfilled dream. The big bright murals made the wall seem fun and festive from afar, but a closer look revealed life stripped of romanticism. A lot of people waited their whole lives, Motiejunas said. He took a picture of the wall and then left, walking through the light rain that had begun to fall.A little boy named Conley, not yet 3 years old, carried two big pieces of chalk while his grandmother, Maggie OConnor, worked to keep him out of the street. The kid drew wherever he wanted, bouncing around. His grandma looked at him, without the baggage of the past century, and she laughed.Hell get used to them winning, she said. ? Conley wrote Go Cubs Go, in the uncertain script of a toddler, then stopped strangers on the sidewalk to tell them about it. He asked one of them to draw with him and after some squiggles, he stood back to admire his work.A seahorse! he said.I DIDNT KNOW exactly what to do while waiting on the final game of the World Series, so I woke up early on Wednesday and went to church. The priest at the cavernous, ornate Holy Name Cathedral didnt mention the Cubs during the homily, but his talk about suffering and faith resonated with those who came to celebrate All Souls Day. Yes, Game 7 was played on the same day as the annual Catholic holiday to remember and celebrate the dead, and pray for their safe passage from purgatory into heaven. You cant make this stuff up. ?The hyper-focus of camera lenses will make the last 24 hours in Chicago seem like one big explosion of joy, but thats not really true. The whole exercise has produced its own extremes. On one hand, people have been going wild, with Eddie Vedder and Bill Murray closing down one of those 5 a.m. dive bars on Division Street -- closing it down together ?-- and fans lighting off cherry bombs near Wrigley. Yet theres also this palpable sadness. Nobody could really be sure howd theyd feel when it all ended, whether theyd be full of joy, or grief, or both.The question felt personal to me. My wifes grandfather, a decorated World War II veteran, who survived being named Bob Weinberg in a German prisoner of war camp, died in May. He grew up in Chicago and loved the Cubs, and as the season went on, my wife and I talked about how cruel it seemed for a man to live for 94 years, survive his bomber being shot down and being held captive, only to die five months before the World Series he longed to see. With him in mind, I reached out to a half-dozen area hospitals and to the team itself, looking for fans who were hanging on, hoping to find someone who might beat Bobs odds. The Cubs connected me with a woman named Ginny Iversen. She listened to the games on the radio religiously, even at 93, and loved to tell people she shared a birthday with Andre Dawson.She never really grew up, wearing a tiara and feather boa to her 90th birthday, and trying to do one of those college girl no-hands shots on her 92nd birthday -- her kids loved to pull out photos of her with an entire shot glass in her mouth. Somewhat recently, an equally old male suitor gave her a diamond ring, which he then forgot about, which of course led to him buying her a second ring. She seemed hilarious to me, but her family didnt think she was up for a stranger to visit. I disengaged and didnt think about her much until yesterday.At the Wrigley Field memorial wall, I saw a woman writing on the metal gates to the bleachers themselves, across the street from Murphys. Mary Beth Talhami (Id learn her name later) finished her message and stood back to admire it: Mom, thank you for teaching us to believe in ourselves, love and the Cubs. Enjoy your view from the ultimate skybox.I took a picture of her, close enough to overhear her conversation with another stranger to her left. Mary Beth talked about her mom and how ESPN had contacted the family. The dots connected in my head. The hair stood up on my arm.That was me, I said.She told me her mother was Ginny Iversen and then, starting to shake and cry, she told me the news. Her mom died between Games 2 and 3.TWENTY MILES NORTHWEST, cars parked in groups along the winding paths of the All-Saints Cemetery. An hour remained until the 5 p.m. closing time. Its a Catholic burial ground, out in the middle-class suburbs, and there are dozens, maybe hundreds, of Cubs flags and hats and license plates and signs. Its one of many places around Chicago this past week where the conflicting ideas of joy and pain leave the realm of the psychological and become attached to action. People come here for many reasons, to say a little prayer, or talk to someone, to themselves, or to believe that their loved one knows what is happening tonight. Last Friday, an old man in a Cubs jacket stood over a grave and left a pennant and a Cubs pumpkin. Yesterday, a middle-aged woman named Maureen stood for the longest time at a grave not far away. A sign said Believe. Maureen touched her hand to the Cubs logo on her chest and smiled, looking back at the ground.My son, she said.Then she pointed across the rolling hill to the most famous grave in the cemetery, which is where she was headed next, to pay respects to Harry Caray before going to watch the game. His stone has green apples on top, an inside joke referencing a quote about the Cubs one day making it to a World Series just as surely as God made green apples.A man stood at the grave, unloading five more crates of apples, arranging them in a half-moon. One of the cemetery custodians, named Don, helped him. Some women, there to visit other graves in the area, did too. I walked up, and Don grinned at me and introduced his friend, Coley Newell, who happened to be Harry Carays son-in-law. They had some times. The night the Bulls first won a title, he and Harry watched the game at Gibsons Steakhouse. Harry pulled him down to Division Street, lined with bars, and the crowd went berserk and mobbed them. Cops had to pull Harry up on horseback to ride him to safety. He was the best father-in-law ever, Newell said. He got me in more friggin trouble.Newell pointed at a spot hed cleared among the apples.This is where the radio is going.One of the women did a double-take.Youre gonna broadcast the game? she asked.Newell nodded. He pulled out and switched on the radio -- tuned to the local broadcast so Harry wouldnt have to listen to Joe Buck -- and covered it with a plastic carton. He snaked the antennae through a hole hed cut, then covered it with duct tape to keep out the rain.Theres the real mojo, Don said. ?Yes, it is, Newell said.Hes done this before every World Series game, turned on the radio and let it play once the place closed. With the pregame show already started, he listened to the announcers debate Corey Kluber and the Cubs ability to hit him.Newell kneeled down and said a prayer.Then he drove back toward the city to watch the game. The custodians locked the fence by the road, and near the back of the cemetery, a radio at the foot of Harry Carays grave played the national anthem and the lineups and the first pitch. ?Nobody but the dead were around to hear. ?MARY BETH TALHAMI got to her local bar just as the game began. They love her at a place called Wildwood Tavern, in the suburb of Niles, and the owners saved a barstool for her. Her friends hugged her and told her that her mother was up there helping the Cubs tonight. Its been six days since Ginny Iversen died, taking her last breath wrapped in a Cubs blanket she loved. The baseball has kept Mary Beth distracted; she hasnt even bought a dress for the funeral. People from the neighborhood filled the bar, which served steaks and cold beers, and when the Cubs got their first out of the game, Mary Beth grinned. ?Twenty-six to go, she said. ?The Cubs looked dominant, a repeat of the Game 6 performance, and for the first time, she allowed herself to feel confident and to consider a life after this season. When the Cubs took a 4-1 lead, her lip began to quiver. A friend hugged her and she started to cry, sitting in this bar, wearing her moms Cubs jacket, waving a plastic Cubs flag that had been in her moms room, drying her eyes with a Cubs rally towel someone brought her mom the week before she died. Mary Beth stood up and walked outside. A friend named Sarah watched her leave, concerned. Some of Mary Beths friends worry that a reckoning is coming soon, and that the end of this season, win or lose, might knock her off course. ?Its happening, Sarah said. ?Mary Beth returned and still struggled to keep away the tears. ?Its real, she said. I think her dying is finally setting in. ?Mostly, she wanted to see some sign that her mothers presence wasnt gone forever. Two hours after Ginny died last week, Mary Beth sent out a text message to the select people who needed to know: The bad news is my mom passed away. The good news is there is another angel in the outfield. When she met me randomly, that was a sign too, and after we left the chalk wall at Wrigley, she sat in her car and sobbed, then ran into Murphys Bleachers to do a shot of Jameson for her mom. She and her friends all carry these desires; the owner of the place, Ellie, had started finding dimes everywhere after her dad died. Each of those dimes is a message. Today, Mary Beth saw a rainbow and said out loud to her mom, Cant you leave me alone already? So the Cubs performance had become tightly wound together with all sorts of deeper and more personal questions, which raised the stakes for her. ?The score stood at 6-3 in the eighth inning.Four outs, she said, holding her moms towel to her face, which was too new to be laced with the light orange scent of Ginnys favorite perfume, Emeraude. She looked down to make eye contact with the bartender, so he could pour victory shots. ?Get ready, she said.Now? he asked. ?No! she said. No bad mojo.The Indians scored, and then hit a two-run homer, tying the game. She pulled the towel up over her eyes and said, over and over, Oh my f---ing God. ?Her niece texted her. ?Im shaking. Keep the faith, baby, Mary Beth responded.I wish I was with you, Elly wrote. ?You are, sweetie. The game went into the rain delay, then the 10th inning, and she stood up and leaned toward the screen. She wondered if her mom was pulling a prank on her. ?Then it happened. ?The Cubs scored two runs, then got the final three outs, and the bar around Mary Beth got loud. People jumped up, and the young people to her right hugged and danced and high-fived. Others pounded on the bar, and the stereo blared Go Cubs Go! Mary Beth remained quiet, holding her victory shot. She raised her glass and tipped it toward the ceiling, toasted her mom, but then the sobs hit so hard, her shoulders shaking violently, that she couldnt drink. Until faced with it, shed never known how shed react to the Cubs winning a World Series. Turns out, she thought about her mom. The glass stayed in her hand for 30 seconds or more, until she finally steadied herself and knocked it back. Then she put her head in her hands and began to cry. That night, she fell asleep wrapped in her moms Cubs blanket, the one Ginny wore the night she died.THE TOWN WENT nuts. Cars sped down the freeway, waving flags out of windows, weaving through traffic. Huge crowds gathered on Michigan Avenue, and every horn seemed to honk at once. Cops blocked the exits near the stadium. Wrigleyville turned into a loony bin, with one person collapsing to their knees to weep, while others set off fireworks. Near downtown, the Chicago Sun-Times and the Chicago Tribune rolled off the presses, packed into bundles and fork-lifted into waiting trucks. The truck drivers hung out in their ready room for assignments. Many wore Cubs gear, and they all talked about the game. ?Truck 376 rumbled out of the loading bay, Al Mocchi behind the wheel. A big guy, a union guy, he looked both friendly and like he could handle himself, in that typical Chicago way. Hes driven a newspaper truck for more than 30 years. His father did it for more than 30 too. It was about 2:45 a.m. Tonight at some spots, he said, theyd deliver about 25 times the number of Tribunes and maybe eight times the number of Sun-Times, both papers going out together. At the first stop, a fan bought a copy, right off the truck, then held it up in the air like the Gospel, carrying it to his friends. ?Its gonna be one of those extraordinary evenings, Mocchi said. ?He and his two-person team stocked convenience stores and honor boxes. Along the river, a couple walked home, the man carrying a box.This guys got a pizza and a girlfriend! Mocchi said. What else do you need? ?A man in a white van cut them off to buy two copies of each paper right from the truck. Other people pointed when they drove by, some people understanding that the passing newspaper delivery meant that the next day had in fact arrived, and the sun would be coming up in a few hours, and that the headlines proved none of it had been a dream. The no-curse world had begun. Mocchi made a loop through the quiet city, except for the random stray stumbling Cubs fan. At one stop, Mocchi checked Facebook. All the posts were about the Cubs or Harry Caray, whose grave still had a radio playing at it 20 miles to the northwest. ?If he could be here to see this, said Shawn Brown, riding shotgun. ?You never know, Mocchi said. He might be. ?He left the truck idling outside a 7-Eleven, while he and his team lugged in bundles. A couple at the counter was paying for Gatorade and Bagel Bites when the woman saw the papers. ?Wait! Grace Kingston said. I WANT ALL OF THOSE! ?She settled on five copies of the Tribune -- the A1 headline read At Last -- and carried her proof home with the electrolytes and carbs, the three most essential food groups of a post-curse hangover. An hour later, a little after 4 a.m., the drivers dropped me off at my hotel, 20 hours after the previous mornings Mass. After saying goodbye, I sat down to read the paper, first the celebratory front page story about the Cubs, then working my way through the rest. At the back of the business section, I found 39 death notices, people who almost made it. One was for Mary Beths mom, Virginia Iversen, page six, column two. At the bottom it read: Memorial contributions may be made to Chicago Cubs Charities. ? The address listed is for Wrigley Field. Scarpe Nike Outlet Italia . "Jeff is a hard worker who was an important special-teams contributor for us last season," said Stamps GM John Hufnagel. Scarpe Nike Italia . - NASCAR announced a 33-race schedule for the 2014 Nationwide Series with virtually no changes from this years slate. https://www.scontatescarpeoutlet.it/scontate-air-max-270-outlet-italia-c2766.html . Louis. To which I would say two things: 1. Where there is smoke, there is or perhaps has been a little fire. Or, in other words, the two teams would appear to have at least spoken. And spoken is defined as one calling the other to inquire, no more, no less. Air Max Scontate . -- The Sacramento Kings are set to become the first major professional sports franchise to accept Bitcoin virtual currency for ticket and merchandise purchases. Air Max 90 Scontate Uomo . Thats about all he can do right now, so hes trying not to think about when he might be able to play again for the Los Angeles Lakers. ARLINGTON, Texas -- Matt Bush and Tony Barnette took drastically different and quite unconventional paths to becoming 30-something rookie relievers and locker mates with the AL West champion Texas Rangers.When the Rangers were in the playoffs last October, former No. 1 overall pick Bush was in the final month of a 3 +-year stint in prison for a drunken driving accident that nearly killed a man.The 32-year-old Barnette was finishing a record-setting season as a closer who helped the Tokyo Yakult Swallows reach the Japan Series.Its almost like fate, the 30-year-old Bush said. Here we both are, finally getting our chance, being around the same age, and get to share our experiences and our rookie years together.The right-handers are key setup men for the Rangers, who play the AL Division Series opener at home Thursday against the winner of the American League wild-card game (Baltimore or Toronto).Bush, now a reliever whose fastball touches 100 mph, was initially drafted in 2004 out of high school by his hometown San Diego Padres as a shortstop -- just ahead of 2011 AL MVP and Cy Young winner Justin Verlander, also a six-time All-Star.Within weeks after receiving a $3.15 million signing bonus and before even playing his first pro game, Bush was suspended by the organization following his arrest in a bar fight. That was only the first of several alcohol-related incidents before the nearly fatal accident while in spring training with the Tampa Bay Rays in March 2012.Sober since that time, the final nine months of Bushs prison sentence in Florida last year included living in a halfway house while in a work-release program with a job as a baker at a Golden Corral in Florida.It was in the parking lot of that restaurant that Rangers officials watched Bush throw in the mid-90s. After his release Oct. 30, Bush went to Texas with his father to work out for the team for which Josh Hamilton, another former No. 1 overall pick, went from alcohol and drug issues to being a five-time All-Star and the 2010 AL MVP.Everybody in every clubhouse for the most part has a story. Some stand out a little bit more than others, like Matts. Hes handled it tremendously. He shows up, works hard and throws 100 mph. Its fun to watch, Barnette said. Isnt baseball great? It gives guys like us chances.Barnette was a 10th-round draft piick by the Diamondbacks in 2006 from Arizona State, then started 96 games in four minor league seasons before going to Japan in 2010, a year before making the transition from starter to reliever.dddddddddddd The Alaskan-born pitcher set a team record with 41 saves and a 1.29 ERA in 59 games for the Swallows last season before signing a two-year contract with Texas.Jonathan Lucroy, the catcher Texas acquired Aug. 1, said Bush and Barnette dont seem like MLB rookies, both having matured and learned from unique situations.While Barnette has spent the entire season with the Rangers, Bush went from spring training to Double-A Frisco after not playing any regular-season games since 2011.I really wouldnt have thought itd work out the way it is, especially with such a good team, a winning team, going to the playoffs now and being the setup guy. Its a dream come true really, Bush said. My true hopes were to finish the year without getting into any trouble, to stay sober, and to go into next year with a chance of getting placed on the 40-man roster.But things happened much faster than that, getting called up by the Rangers in mid-May after 12 relief appearances at Double-A, and converting all five save chances at the highest level he had pitched to that point. He has made 58 appearances for Texas (7-2, 2.48 ERA), and hasnt allowed a run in his last 10 appearances (11 1/3 innings).Its been fun, its been everything that I ever thought of, and being 30, Ive been able to handle myself, being more mature, Bush said. I definitely wasnt ready back then when I was a lot younger.Barnette (7-3, 2.09), who missed three weeks in September with a tight left oblique muscle, has recorded more than three outs in 19 of his last 27 appearances since mid-June, with a 0.79 ERA in that span.We know our roles and we know whats expected of us, and I think it helps being older, and the fact that were comfortable with who we are now, Barnette said. And were not worried about stepping on anybodys toes around us, because were older than everybody.On a team with 28-year-old shortstop Elvis Andrus being the longest-tenured position player in his eighth season, Bush and Barentte are certainly the old rookies. ' ' '