I make no claim to be a long-suffering Cubs fan.  We lived in Chicago in the early 80’s and I was able to attend games at Wrigley Field.  Like many before me, I fell in love with the ballpark and its ambience more than I really did the team.  We moved away after only a few years, so I never  jelled as a diehard Cubs fan, although my son recently reminded me that I wore my Cubs hat religiously for years in California. It blew off my head one day in a strong wind while sailing and I never saw it again. I felt its loss.

Now I have a brand new Cubs hat! We’re back in Chicago after a 28-year hiatus and I was back at Wrigley for two games this past summer.  It now has a huge video board in the outfield, but it’s essentially the same. It’s been fun to ride the wave of the Cubs this baseball season.

Last night, my wife and I went to a sports pub just down the street to watch the critical game 7, rather than just sit by ourselves in our living room.  In the midst of a dreary political season where I have watched our country sink lower and lower into mean-spirited divisiveness, calculated fear-mongering and a hatred of anyone different from them, last night’s game was a bright spot for three reasons:

We can welcome “the other.”  The place was packed and the owner asked us if we would accept another couple at our table.  They took the two empty chairs and we were soon chatting amiably.  We discovered they are Jewish; we are Christians.  They are involved in their synagogue where their daughter is actually a youth leader; I am a pastor.  We discussed grandchildren, including our brand new first grandchild born October 2; they were genuinely happy for us (they have six!) He and I compared notes about careers, the Cubs, and even our religious life (both his synagogue and my church are having a hard time reaching younger people).  We high-fived each other every time the Cubs scored; we commiserated together when they blew their three run lead late in the game.

What I just described is the quintessential American experience that has been under vigorous assault throughout this election. I can make a new Jewish friend, have a great time with him, and, at the end of the day, still disagree with him on foundational beliefs that are obviously important to both of us.  He is not my “enemy,” just because we disagree on something important.  We share a common humanity (love of grandchildren) and a common American-ness (love of baseball).

There can still be purity in the game.  I am one of many who are jaded by how a tsunami of money has turned sports into “entertainment” in our country.  And yet, there are moments when the simple joy of the game still shines through, as it did for me last night. It was hard fought with many ups and downs, twists and turns for both teams—yet neither team complained the game was “rigged” when a call didn’t go their way.  They respected the rules; they respected traditions; they respected that the game itself was bigger than any player or any team.  At least from my vantage point, every player on the field served the game first.

Why do we think we must choose between passion and decorum (or even civility)?  Last night, there was plenty of passion to win on both sides, but I saw several examples of opposing players chatting while on base, one pulling another up off the ground, etc. Their passion was not out of control; it was channeled.  Is it possible for our country to play the game of politics as the Cubs and Indians played last night?

We can transcend differences.  I didn’t know the political persuasion of anyone at the bar last night.  It was hard to tell, because everyone’s shirt or hat said the same thing: Cubs. Yes, I know baseball is just a game. But in a season where most of what I hear and witness is what is wrong in America, it’s nice to be reminded that there are still good things in America, good things that can bring us together.