Imagine the weight of the world, a serious wait for Chicago Cubs fans, one hundred and eight years between World Series victories lifted that chill November evening in Indian country. The seventh game, delayed by rain after the end of the ninth, score tied after blowing a two run lead! Is this the Scrubs of old? To lose again? The Curse of the Billy Goat and winning no more proving to be true? No! Instead, shouts of Yes! Yes! Yes! A young schoolboy’s old dream of heaven, to win it all in the final inning of a game seven. And players playing in that boyish exuberance more wet from champagne than from the rain that dared to stain, no, blemish, no, fail, no, not this time, not exasperation again once again. Wait ’til next year no more! for on this night the Cubbies found it with hits to left, center and right. Futility erased. Beaming faces. Trophy raised. Little copies of the real trophy made. Twenty-three golden flagpoles with the pennants of those teams who were not good enough - not enough of the good stuff - to paint the winner’s hardware with the team color blue and have emblazoned for the first time, in over one hundred year’s time, the letters C-U-B-S 2016 World Series Champions to sit on the desks of big boys dreaming dreams of winning and raising their own trophy to the sky.