The joke here, of course, is that up until this moment, Threepio had done nothing but spew criticism at R2-D2 as he tried to unlock the doors and aid in the Rebels' escape - much like how I reacted to seemingly every one of Joe Maddon's pitching changes from Game 3 onward. G3: Justin Grimm in the 5th with the bases loaded? G4: Pulling John Lackey after just 84 pitches? G6: Bringing in Aroldis Chapman in the 7th inning for the second time in two days? (For the record, the G5 decision was defensible, and perhaps the only way the Cubs hold on to a 3-2 lead - but then to use him the next day when up 7-3, and then to leave him in after he sprained his ankle covering first, and then AGAIN after the Cubs tacked on another two runs!?) G7: Bringing in Jon Lester, the guy who will never throw to a base, with a runner on in the 5th? And then trying to use Chapman for multiple innings for the third game in a row!? You have a bullpen full of specialized relievers! Why not use some of them!?
But somehow, the Cubs prevailed, cashing in on a best-in-baseball 103-win season, and finally getting the 108-year-old monkey (or goat?) off their backs. By the way, when I was explaining the legend of the Billy Goat Curse to my wife last night, I immediately thought of Black Phillip from last year's epic frontier horror film The Witch. Goats are capable of some nasty things: it was true in the 17th century, it was true in 1908, and it's true in 2016! The only thing capable of removing their influence was the actions of two of baseball's most famous curse breakers: Theo Epstein, the baseball operations executive responsible for building both the 2004 Red Sox and the 2016 Cubs, and Terry Francona, the manager of the aforementioned Red Sox team back in '04 (and in 2013 when they won again), but also of the opponent of this year's Cubs team. So win or lose, Tito will always be remembered fondly by followers of baseball superstitions.
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| Bill Murray wouldst like to live deliciously... |
One could argue that Francona's pitching choices did as much to help the Cubs as Maddon's choices did to nearly sabotage them. I know his starting rotation has dealt with some devastating injuries towards the end of the season, but asking ace Corey Kluber to pitch on short rest for the third time in the postseason must have been too much for him to handle. Don't get me wrong, I still think Kluber was the best option for Game 7, especially given how dominant he had been throughout the rest of the playoffs. I was among those who thought that Chicago was surely done when I saw that Cleveland's three-man rotation would send Kluber to the hill in the potential deciding game after they fell behind 3-1. But it was the overuse of relief ace Andrew Miller that might have been the final nail in the coffin for Francona's club. The more a batter sees of a pitcher, the more familiar he gets with the hurler's stuff and strategy, while the batter's game plan remains the same all throughout: see the ball, hit the ball. Miller was decidedly brilliant for most of the series, but after his fourth appearance of ~2 innings each, the Cubs were able to get a bead on him, and he gave up a couple of crucial runs in Game 7. I know hindsight is 20/20 and I've heard that Miller's usage could very well revolutionize how relief pitchers are evaluated and used. But over-reliance on one arm is never the answer: just ask how Aroldis Chapman felt after giving up that game-tying home run to Rajai Davis.
I was vocally in favor of the Cubs winning this World Series - not because of the racially insensitive nature of Cleveland's team name (although I do think it was a bit of a dirty trick for Commissioner Rob Manfred to call out the Indians on this point WHILE THEY'RE PLAYING IN THE WORLD SERIES), but rather because I was ready for this Cubs World Series drought narrative to end. A friend of mine took the opposite stance: if the Cubs don't have their "lovable losers" identity, what do they have going for them? But the problem is that ever since Theo Epstein's rebuilding effort started to bear fruit, the Cubs aren't "losers" anymore: they've won 200 games over the past two seasons. And winners aren't lovable unless they win it all. And now that they have won, they can start adopting a new franchise identity, albeit one that casual Cubs fans won't necessarily like that much. To paraphrase Harvey Dent from The Dark Knight: You either die a lovable loser, or you live long enough to see yourself become a hated dynasty.
I have friends who are Indians fans, and I felt bad about actively rooting for their sadness just for the sake of a silly baseball superstition. But think of what kind of narrative we would have had if Cleveland held on to win the championship. Sure, it would have been an inspiring story about overcoming injuries and using relief pitchers creatively and platooning outfielders as though a lefty hitter has never gotten a hit off a lefty pitcher. But at bottom, the Indians would have become just another spoiler in the Cubs' much longer and more storied history of futility. And I wouldn't wish the ire of the north side of Chicago on any baseball fan...
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