I had lived in Chicago for exactly 44 days before conceding the National League Central for the foreseeable future. On Oct. 13, 2015, I walked from my apartment in Lincoln Park to Wrigleyville to meet a friend who’d attended the final game of the Cubs-Cardinals NLDS. I perversely wanted to see the celebration. The neighborhood was thick with weed smoke, and fans bellowed louder than the gridlocked taxis could honk. For Cubs fans, it felt like the beginning of something great. For me, it felt like the end.
Look at the box scores of those four games, and they’re unremarkable.