by Stephen Jones
It was fall, 1945. The nightmare,
World War II, had ended. Now
The world, relieved of pain, exulted
And kissed in Times Square.
But amid relief and ticker-tape,
In Chicago no one knew
That this was just the beginning
Of the Cubbies’ enduring drought.
These words aren’t meant to drag up
A goat’s curse or muddy recollections
Of the “World’s Worst Series”
(Between the Tigers and the Cubs).
No. It’s 2014, and Memorial Day reminds:
Memories and lives are fading.
The ranks of the best generation
Are getting thinner each and every day.
Closer to home, in dugout memory
Of Wrigley Field, only one link remains:
Lennie Merullo, 97, is the only tie
To the Cubs’ last World Series, of 1945.
Maybe the ’45 Series,
To quote author Warren Brown,
Was truly the “worst” that ever was.
But then, many players were in service
And what is necessary is to recall
That a generation did play ball,
And then went to war
And gave themselves for us all.
Published in Ballparks, Chicago Cubs, Chicago Cubs, Detroit Tigers, Former Teams, Free Verse, History | Link to this poem | 2 Comments