He stepped out of the batter’s box, removed his helmet and took in the crowd. It was a chilly night on the North side of Chicago, but the applause of 31,119 people warmly greeted No. 23 of the Detroit Tigers. Time stood still as Javier Báez slowly turned and waved to all corners of the stadium that his heart could reach. His eyes were smiling, but they looked a little sad too. This was the place and the people that had his back for seven glorious years.
The guy that was now standing in front of us in the heart of Wrigley Field — “Javy” or “El Mago” as we knew him — was not the same person that stood here 1,118 days ago, his last time in a Cubs jersey. The person who would take the field every day, proudly boasting the bold red Cubs’ “C” on his chest, number nine on his back and his heart on his sleeve. But, how could he be that person? Javy was now posting a .184 average for Detroit, batting at the bottom of the order.
But that didn’t matter at that moment; or, to me, ever. None of us had forgotten the mind-blowing defensive plays he made out at short in the green grass of Wrigley Field. The way his glove could seamlessly tag out baserunners and smother the heat on balls that were sure to make it into the outfield. No wonder he won a Gold Glove with us and represented our team at the All-Star game as a shortstop in 2018 and second baseman in 2019 — the first player ever to start an All-Star Game at both positions in consecutive seasons. None of us could forget his bat that won him a Silver Slugger Award in 2018, his signature swim move to swipe second base or his mad dash home to steal a run. This was the guy that gave our city its first World Series ring in 108 years. This was the guy that made me love baseball.
The Cubs beat the Tigers that day, 3-1. But don’t let that win fool you. A month later, with seven games left in the regular season, my Chicago Cubs were eliminated from postseason contention. With delusional hopes of a playoff run, I watched the Cubs lose 79 times this year, while the Milwaukee Brewers easily ran away with the division.
But while I watched the Cubs lose game after game after game after game (after game after game), I watched them win quite a few too. I watched Shota Imanaga, the Cubs’ rookie from Japan, stun opposing batters and make the Wrigley Field bleachers go crazy. I watched 22-year-old Pete Crow-Armstrong blaze around the bases and make tumbling, soaring catches to steal hits from opponents. I watched the Cubs’ outfield come together for a group hug after every win.
For 162 days a year, athletes from around the world step onto the diamond to chase their dreams and get their hearts broken. Historic records are shattered, and $18 dollar beers are bought. Despite devastating losses and watching my favorite players slump and get traded away, I keep finding myself coming back to the national pastime. Javy left Chicago the same summer that I moved to LA for college. Change is inevitable, people say. But some things just don’t. Here I am, still hopelessly cheering for the Cubs and rooting for a Javier Báez comeback (it will happen, people). Under that orange and gray uniform, maybe he still bleeds blue for the city of Chicago.
This year, I got to witness a story in its last chapter. The Oakland Athletics were packing up and heading to Vegas and would no longer be the Oakland A’s after the 2024 season. After a five-hour car ride, my friends and I made it to their 8th-to-last game of the season. Walking down the steps of the Oakland Coliseum, I immediately understood why the stadium was given the name. The way that the 63,000 green seats curved around the baseball field and sections stacked upon one another really did resemble the amphitheater of ancient Rome. The Coliseum’s round, winding structure made for a perfect wave (it went around the stadium 10 times, at least) and provided an intimacy that Dodger Stadium’s towering, grand structure didn’t. The faithful A’s fans chanted ‘LET’S-GO-OAK-LAND,’ banged on drums in the outfield and waved flags that had ‘SELL THE TEAM’ written on them with black spray paint. In five days, the Oakland Athletics would play their last game ever in that very ballpark.
I saw someone write a new story, too. Perched at the top deck of Dodger Stadium, I watched the sun set as Shohei Ohtani hit his 47th home run and stole his 48th base of the season. Ohtani was furiously drafting a new narrative in baseball, and nothing or no one could stop him. Never, in the history of professional baseball, had a player hit 50 home runs or stolen 50 bases in a season. Ohtani finished the regular season with a shy 54 homers and 59 steals. The ink on his pages certainly hasn’t dried and doesn’t seem like it will any time soon.
Hometown heroes come and go, franchises crumble and rise — but the magic of the game never really leaves. Every day, there is an old record to be broken or a new story to be told. You just have to see it.
Contact Emma Cho at echo2@oxy.edu. Go Cubs.
