October 24, 2016: The Cubs are in the World Series:

Here's to all the fathers, mothers, grandfathers, grandmothers, great grandfathers, great grandmothers, uncles, aunts, brothers, sisters, cousins, best friends, and each and every loved one who didn't make it to this moment. Go Cubs Go, finally. We will be watching and cheering with you in our hearts and a tear in our eyes.

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November 2, 2016: The Cubs WIN the World Series:

Fred Duckman was my Mom's dad, we lived in the same house until I was 10. Truly the greatest man I have ever known, and the man closest to me in my life. My favorite baseball moments were watching Gramps watch the Cubs. He's been gone for 28 years. He was five when the Cubs won their last World Series. My father, Mike, was 13 the last time the Cubs were in the World Series. They lost. He never experienced what I just did. At this moment, you are both here, with me. FINALLY!!! The tears in my eyes, the tears of joy -- they are all yours. YEEEEEE HAHHHHHHHH!!!!

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November 3, 2016: The morning after the Cubs win the World Series:

To my cousin and Dad's nephew whom he loved...

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Steve Royko, you're nuts.

How nuts?

With the Cubs down 3-1 in the World Series, on the eve of a game five, you, unbelievably, write this:

"So you play the next game on your schedule. You win that game. Then you play the next game on your schedule and you win that game. Then, you play the next game on your schedule and you win that game. It isn't that easy but it is that simple. #ibelievetheyaregoingtodoit"

You, our entire world, and the life-discovered Mars know what happened next.

History -- new, unknowable history happened. They won two. Series tied, like an impossibly knotted shoelace. But no, that wasn't enough for you, dear "sweet" nephew Stevie. What happened next makes me question, no, more than question, deeply suspect your true Royko lineage. I believe you would fail a test of DNA.

Stevie, you know baseball history, you know baseball tradition, you know baseball superstition, and you know, above all else in life, that baseball superstitions are not superstition -- they are facts. So, due to the power of Cubs (factual) superstitions, I hold you, and you alone, responsible for what happened next.

In Game 7, the most hallowed ground for Cubs-woes for more than a century, the Cubs gloriously blow a 6-3 lead at the last possible, 8th inning moment. They send the game into doomed territory. They stretch the anticipated, inevitable, hard-earned agony into extra innings. And you, prodding, teasing and tickling the fates, write this:

"This win is going to feel good!"

The world knows what happened next. Your dark, unthinkable prophesy broke the back of history, tradition and (factual) superstition.

The Cubs did it. Out of fate's derriere, they pulled it out. 8-7, the final numbers.

You might be proud, you might gloat. But before you do, know this:

Today, all over the USA, goat wives and children are awakening to horror, and going into black, bleating mourning.

Their goat fathers have been gleefully slaughtered.

And their blood is on your hands.

I LOVE YA STEVIE!