A Season of Faith's Perfection

The Chicago Cubs won the World Series.  I'm not a Cubs fan, or even a particularly enthusiastic baseball person.  I mostly just tune in for parts of the World Series and often fall asleep during what games I decide to watch.  I like to go out to the ball park for games if someone throws free tickets at me. I get slightly more amped when the Phillies decide to show up about every twenty years or so, but I'll tell you what watching into the wee hours of the morning to see the Cubbies finally close out their first championship since 1908 (yes you heard that right, 1908) felt awfully profound.
The Chicago Cubs have been the "lovable losers" since before my grandfather was born.  The last time this happened nobody knew what a World War was, the Nuclear Age was science fiction, heck electricity was still new to a lot of towns and horses were still the main mode of transportation. 108 years of futility and mediocrity came to an end last night, the Goat, the Black Cat and the Bartman incident, all history.
Then there's this:

If that doesn't give you the feels, check your pulse.
The thing that sports do for us these days is bring us together.  Whether you're a fan of the team or not there's something about watching a group of humans rise together against the very hand of fate itself that lifts us all.  It was a little sad that they did it at the expense of the Cleveland Indians, another forlorn franchise that finally got to the big show.  It would be possible to actually write a very similar article had the Tribe prevailed, but Cleveland has Lebron and the Cavaliers to soften that blow this year.
The Cubs did this the hard way.  They came into the playoffs as the consensus "best team in baseball."  An unusual place for them and it showed.  They fell to a 3-1 series deficit to the Tribe, including two losses at Wrigley, they went back to Cleveland with doom hanging over their head, but they didn't die.  They pushed it to a game 7, because of course they did.  They took a 6-2 lead into the 8th inning and, as soon as their second starting pitcher put a man on, they brought in their fire-throwing closer, Aroldis Chapman.
Chapman has been close to un-hittable this season with the Yankees and the Cubs, he throws 105mph plus, he is a prototype closer.  But he has been working a lot more innings and throwing a lot more pitches than a closer probably should.  He was gassed. He gave up the lead in the 8th and somehow, someway held on to the tie score in the bottom of the 9th.  It was a gutsy performance, but one he probably should have never been called on to make.  Joe Maddon was desperate though, his staff was worn out, his hitters were being anything but reliable, and he was so close to breaking "the Curse," that he could taste it.
I felt as bad for Chapman as I could possibly muster for a dude who started the season suspended for domestic violence issues, and I was suitably impressed with how he stuck it out and pulled through.
The game went to extra innings, and had a rain delay between the 9th and 10th, because of course it did.  Fate was obviously messing with Chicago Cubs and their fans.
You could see it on their faces.  Old men whose father's had never seen a Cubs title were wondering if this year was going to be another bitter pill to swallow, if it was going to be 109 years, another close but no cigar.  They had no right to believe, but they still did.
Lo and behold, the 10th saw the Cubs pull back ahead, two runs even. They needed them both as it turns out, but they managed to hold on to an 8-7 victory, and grown men everywhere wept tears of joy. I didn't shed tears, but I was duly impressed at seeing a sight that has not been seen on earth for a very long time: The World Champion Chicago Cubs.