It happens every spring: the flowers bloom, the trees bud, and our beloved Chicago Cubs command the friendly confines of Wrigley Field. By April, last season has long been forgotten.

Maybe Chicago's too nice of a city. Or maybe we're happy to go to a place during the summer, sit in the sun, and be with friends. Maybe it's that we're more content being the lovable loser than a stoic champion. We're optimistic, and our hopes spring eternal.

As I grow older, I'd like to pass some traditions to my son: my baseball card collection, old glove and my love and loyalty for the Cubs - present in my family for four generations.

As we sit in our chairs and drink our beers,
We think about a hundred years of tears.