I am in El Paso without a vehicle and staying at my cousin’s house so when he drives to work I take his car to the Lone Star golf club (formerly known as Cielo Vista) to do some chipping and putting. I had my putter shortened and re-gripped two days ago and am eager to try it out. It is scorching hot and I break a mean sweat practicing for about an hour. I love my “new” putter.
I leave the course and drive to Cattle Barron’s, the place where my cousin waits tables, to both drop off his car and wait for my aunt to pick me up so we can go eat and wait around for cousin to get off of work and pick me up to take me back to his place. I sit down at the bar and order a Guinness expecting it to be my only beer because my aunt is due to pick me up in about 45 minutes. One beer ends up being three as my aunt is not able to pick me up at the time previously settled on and by the time she sits down next to me and orders a beer for herself, I am nursing that third Guinness (and believe me, I nursed them all).
But even before she joins me, I had been sitting at the bar watching the Cubs play the Astros at Wrigley. The Astros score four runs in the second inning and by the time my aunt joins me at the bar, they are beating the Cubs 7-1. She and her son proceed to heckle and taunt me for my team’s general suckitude and I cannot say anything in response because, well, they are right.
But then, a small miracle. The Cubs start to hit. Then they start to score some runs. And when we leave the bar, three beers later and feeling a little unusual (it is a feeling I am no longer accustomed to these days and one I cannot adequately describe or label), the Cubs have rallied to tie the game. By this time it is getting a little late and having already nixed dinner plans we return to my aunt’s house to hang out. We get there and I immediately go to the TV room and turn on the TV and change it to the channel carrying the game. The game is still tied, though not for long. The Cubs score seven more runs in the last three innings and win the game, 14-7. No matter how bad the team is or how bad their season is going, it still feels good to see them win a game like this.
My aunt expresses her disbelief at what has transpired, as does my cousin a couple of hours later when he picks me up. I say nothing, but feel extremely satisfied.