Cubs win

Paul Messersmith-Glavin, left, and his brother Michael Glavin watch the Cubs play in the World Series at Wrigley Field. (Photo by Michael Glavin)

In September, I interviewed Lara and Paul Messersmith-Glavin, two members of the Portland-based Institute for Anarchist Studies. We talked about anarchist theory and how anarchists believe if you change social conditions, you can make empathy, solidarity and altruism part of human nature. When I suggested you really had to be an optimist to be an anarchist, Paul replied: "I'm a Chicago Cubs fan. I have to be an optimist."

Well folks, the optimists were right. Paul, a Chicago native, got to travel back home and was at Wrigley Field for Games 3 and 4 of the World Series. The Cubs, of course, won it all in a dramatic Game Seven.

I reached out to Paul and he shared some thoughts about what the World Series meant to him. The following is in Paul's own words:

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I was raised a Cubs' fan by my father, John. I didn't have a choice in the matter, growing up in a working-class neighborhood on Chicago's North Side. The Cubs are the North Side team. The Cubs always lost and, when they didn't - when they got close by actually going to the playoffs - they eventually would lose.

They hadn't gone to the World Series since 1945, or won it since 1908.

This prepared me as I looked around at the world at a young age and realized it needed to change. I threw myself into radical politics in high school. Being a Cubs' fan, I learned not to get my expectations up about how fast things would change. I brought my dedication and my long-term view to my organizing work.

I realized that sayings like, "It doesn't matter if you win or lose, it's how you play the game" had meaning.

Eventually, I came to identify with the anarchist tradition. I found it to be the most comprehensive, democratic, and liberatory set of principles and practices. Like Cubs fans, anarchists hadn't won in awhile: Spain, 1936 leading up to the Civil War, when tens of thousands of anarchists had collectivized work places around the country, had huge organizations, and political collectives.

For both Cubs' fans, and anarchists, our glory days were far in the past.

Being a Cubs' fan prepared me to always hope for the future. No matter how bad things were, or how badly we were being beaten, a better day would come. We just had to hang in there and not give up.

This year, all that striving, all that hope, all that perennial optimism paid off: The Cubs not only went to the World Series, they won it.

I was fortunate to receive a ticket for two World Series games at Wrigley. The police had shut down the streets around the Field for blocks in every direction. Thousands of fans flocked to Wrigley all three days games were played there and on the night they won in Cleveland.

The feeling in the stands was electric.

I've been going to Wrigley since I was a young boy, but the buzz was never stronger. It was so magical being there, seeing a World Series game played for the first time in 71 years, and I realized the rewards of perseverance. I had dreamed for years that the Cubs would be in the World Series and, after countless heartbreaks, black cats, overeager fans reaching for playable foul balls, and monk's curses, we were. Despite all the barriers and failures, we were one of the two teams left standing. Everyone else had gone home.

It was us now, making history.

The Cubs split the first two games in Cleveland. I watched them lose the next two straight, the first night with my sister, the second with my brother. Of course, I thought, the Cubs are solidifying our identity before they shatter it completely.

Going into Game Five, we were down 3-1 in the series. I watched that game with my family in Chicago on TV. We had to win to take it back to Cleveland and extend our life. In fact, we had to win the next three straight.

We did win that night. And then we won the next game. I was feeling confident going into Game Seven, although I didn't say anything publicly for fear of jinxing it. I'd had a feeling that 2016 was going to be our year for several years now. And it was.

If the Cubs can win the World Series, anything is possible. Another world is possible. Things can be different.

For years I endured the abuse of people joking about the Cubs, just as people joke about anarchism. They say it would never work, people just aren't like that, people are selfish and greedy, not realizing that it is capitalism that makes them that way.

For 108 years, Cubs fans have kept going, despite the realities that beat us down everyday, despite the team trying their best and still losing, year after year.

In organizing work, one looks around at the state of the world and makes a conscious decision to try and change things despite the realities staring you in the face. You decide you are dedicated to something, and you make that your life's work, despite the odds, despite what has happened in the past, because you have hope - and perhaps some healthy naivete - and you keep going.

After 108 years, the Cubs are baseball's Champions. Anything really is possible, dreams do come true, and perseverance in the face of adversity does pay off. You just have to keep going.

Being a lifelong Cubs' fan necessitates an optimistic orientation toward the human spirit, to the power of endurance, to the importance of hanging in there. There's always next year, and there's always the possibility of a brighter future. It's the utopian impulse, and after 108 years, that impulse was confirmed by reality.

If, after 108 years of futility and loss, the Cubs can finally win the World Series, then perhaps us anarchists and others desiring a better, fundamentally different world, can finally win as well. All we can do is hope, and keep working toward it.