Intergenerational Solidarity & The Chicago Cubs
“The Cubs win the World Series!” Joe Buck’s excited words, the words I had waited four decades to hear, rang through my living room. I yelled, pumped my fist, and stared in amazement as the Cub players hugged, smiled and cried, showing the joy and abandon of little leaguers. And though I was alone in that room, I felt a connection to family that spanned miles, generations and even mortality. I was physically alone, but the room held all the emotion of a happy family reunion.
Despite the late hour I stayed up and watched the post-game show (there was no way I was going to sleep with all the adrenaline produced by an extra-inning game-seven classic anyway). As I watched I realized I was far from the only person thinking about family. Reporters had no problem finding fans with tears in their eyes wanting to talk about family members they wished were still alive to see this day. Family members who had lived and died through the Cubs’ 108-year championship drought. Family members who ended each season saying “next year,” without ever seeing their predictions come true.
My grandparents were two of those people. They passed when I was a tween and most of my memories of them come from vacations we spent at their house after traveling long distances to see them. The most enduring memories from these trips are of watching Cubs’ games. My first Major League game was at Wrigley field with my grandfather and father when I was just seven. Most games, however, we watched on WGN, first in Chicago and later in Austin, Texas. My grandparents watched every game. It didn’t matter how bad the teams were (and they were often REALLY bad), they always tuned in. And when the game was on, I would sit on the floor next to their chairs and watch too. Over the week of the World Series I thought of my grandparents more than at any other time since their passing.
My mother and father are not nearly the dedicated Cubs fans my grandparents were, but they root for them. They have always, however, had modest expectations about the Cubs’ prospects. I might get excited by a good record in June, but they always warned me not to get too excited unless that record held up until September. It rarely did. Nevertheless, when my Dad and I decided to make yearly trips to Spring Training when I was in my 30s, it was Cubs games that we went to. And on the night of game 7 this year, I knew they would be watching. I don’t know if it’s true, but I picture them next to each other in their chairs just like Grandma and Grandpa. Dad and I texted back and forth through the last nail-biting innings and both my parents texted euphoric “Cubs Win!” notes within seconds of the last out.
My wife and sons are not baseball fans, but they still checked in with me as the Cubs progressed through the playoffs. My youngest even started to inquire about how “we” were doing in the games. More surprisingly, he actually pulled himself away from
and video games long enough to watch few innings with his old man. Yes, a fourth generation has been initiated into the Cubs’ legion of fans. Fortunately for him, he got to start with a win!
So why is all this important? Why have I taken the time to share the story of my family and the lovable (no-longer) losers? Well, there are lots of things in life that pull families apart. In American culture things like geographic distance, divorce, economic stress and shifting values due to individuation when we become adults, strain what social psychologists call intergenerational solidarity. That strain can threaten the emotional and functional support familial generations give to one another over time. A story about the shared affection for a perennial loser that spanned four generations felt important. It felt like an example of the kind of shared affinity that you might be able to find in your own family relationships.
Families need each other. Not just when they have young children. They need each other through the challenges of midlife and the eventual decline we all face in old age. Having a way to connect can help sustain intergenerational solidarity. Find yours. It doesn’t have to be baseball; any shared passion will do. And Cleveland fans, here’s your silver lining. Your shared interest in your team may be just the thing that keeps you connected. You now have the longest championship drought in baseball, but your shared disappointment is an opportunity to be there for one another. And, of course, there’s always next year.
Matt Dooley, MS, MBA, LAPC, NCC is an Atlanta-based counselor who helps individuals and couples live happier, more fulfilled lives. Matt works with a wide range of Adult and Teen clients. His specialties include working with individuals struggling with mood disorders, addiction and career concerns. He is currently taking new clients, and can be reached by phone or email .
