The circle of Chicago Cubs life led me to Gallagher Way on Wednesday afternoon to watch Craig Counsell’s team clinch a postseason spot on the big screen video board outside Wrigley Field.
A dozen or so others also made the trip out to the park, and let out a mini-roar when Cubs left fielder Ian Happ caught the final out of an 8-4 win in Pittsburgh, clinching a National League wild-card berth.
The first time the Cubs clinched a postseason spot in my lifetime was also in Pittsburgh, when I was answering phones on the Chicago Tribune’s city desk instead of chronicling their season.
It was Sept. 24, 1984, and the city was buzzing over the Cubs’ first trip to the playoffs in 39 years, which was made official by Rick Sutcliffe’s two-hit performance in a 4-1 win over the Pirates before a small crowd of 5,472 at old Three Rivers Stadium.
The Tribune’s city editor ordered me to get some reaction from former Cubs managers to feed into a bigger story headlined “For Cubs fans, next year is here.”
Herman Franks, who managed in the late 1970s, said from his Salt Lake City home it was “the greatest thing that could ever happen,” an embellishment perhaps, but a quote that made the final cut.
Next up was a call to Leo Durocher, the curmudgeon who managed the Cubs during the famous 1969 collapse. After reaching him at his home in Palm Springs, Calif., Durocher gleefully told me: “I’m tickled to death. I’ve been pulling for them all summer.”
“Will you be coming out to Chicago for the playoffs?” I asked.
“I already answered your question,” he barked. “Now leave me alone.”
Getting barked at by a manager would become a recurring theme in my life, but it was still a thrill back then to get yelled at by a Cubs legend.
It was a different time in Chicago, of course, and also in Wrigleyville, which basically consisted of the ballpark, Yum-Yum Donuts and a few surrounding bars, including Murphy’s Bleachers, Bernie’s, The Cubby Bear and Nisei Lounge.
Fans lined up for hours before the game to get a seat, and all the local TV stations were there to chronicle the big moment. When the Cubs clinched, fans poured out of those Wrigleyville bars and congregated in front of the Wrigley Field marquee, which simply read: “Cubs Win!!” The extra exclamation point was necessary to distinguish it from just an ordinary Cubs win.
The WGN-TV feed of the mob scene outside Wrigley was played on the video boards of Three Rivers Stadium, where Ryne Sandberg and several other Cubs players left the clubhouse celebration to come out to the dugout and watch the wild reaction back home.
An announcement of the Cubs’ win that night was even made at old Comiskey Park, where the White Sox were playing the Minnesota Twins. The crowd gave the Cubs a standing ovation, according to a Tribune report. It’s hard to believe, but many Sox fans were rooting for the Cubs to break the Billy Goat curse, even as many die-hards were hoping they’d blow it, which eventually is what happened in the National League Championship Series against the San Diego Padres.
Forty-one years after my first Cubs assignment, I headed back to Wrigleyville on Wednesday to gauge the reaction of the neighborhood to the Cubs’ first postseason clincher since 2020. The Cubs have been to the postseason 10 times since 1984 — in 1989, ’98, 2003, ’07, ’08, ’15, ’16, ’17, ’18 and ’20 — and ended their championship drought at 108 years in 2016.
I knew that special feeling of that clinching night in 1984 couldn’t be replicated by a wild-card clincher on a Wednesday afternoon, but could Wrigleyville muster up a party atmosphere to honor the most exciting team on the North Side since 2018?
The bars were mostly empty, but that was understandable. Day drinking on a Wednesday with the Cubs out of town is not a popular pastime, and there are ten times more drinking establishments than there were in ’84. I stopped by a place on Clark Street called “Home Away From Home,” which had a message on its marquee that read “Let’s go Pirates.”
It was closed, but an employee explained it was a bar for fans of teams other than the Cubs, and assured me it would be the Padres fan bar during the postseason if the two teams meet in the wild-card series. Listening to him, I felt like Mike Royko was turning over in his grave.
Walking by Wrigley, you could hear the voice of Boog Sciambi echoing in the nearly empty stadium. The Cubs had put the game on the left field video board for Cubs employees, but I couldn’t sneak in to watch.
Outside, a Cubs employee shined the base of the Sandberg statue as the game neared its conclusion in front of the dozen or so viewers. As soon as it ended, other employees began folding up the chairs and tables for “Movie Night” in Gallagher Way.
Over at the marquee at the corner of Clark and Addison streets, the spot where everyone congregated in 1984, three women stood with their phones ready to take a shot of the message board they assumed would flash “Cubs Win!!” or a similar message.
Instead, the marquee rotated the same old paid advertisements, including one that read: “Oatly! It’s like milk but made for humans.” I left before waiting to find out whether the Cubs would put something on the marquee to recognize the clinching. Even one exclamation point would’ve sufficed. Alas, after a couple of minutes of watching ads, I had to go.
Maybe it was more appropriate to have a muted celebration in Chicago while the team celebrated wildly in the clubhouse at PNC Park. Perhaps Cubs fans are pacing themselves, knowing the team has to win three postseason series just to get to the World Series.
It was a job well done by Counsell’s team, and congrats on reaching one of their goals.
But there’s much more to be done before Wrigleyville starts partying like it’s 1984.
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