I've been a Chicago Cubs fan since I was a kid.  I idolized Keith Moreland.  I'm not sure why to this day I picked him on a team full of stars -- Rick Sutcliffe, Leon Durham, Ryne Sandberg, Lee Smith.  I think it was because of his hustle and grit.

I know why I picked the team.  Growing up in Northern Iowa, just a few miles from the Minnesota border, most everyone was a Minnesota Twins fan.  I wanted to be different and, you could say, the team from the North Side found me.

It was the early eighties and we lived in the country.  The joke in our family was that we could watch 1 1/2 channels.  That's all our antenna could pick up.  If we wanted to watch something else, we had to go in the attic and manipulate things.

This was also the time when my grandparents who lived in town got cable tv.  I was starstruck.  Dozens of stations coming in clearly and a baseball game on almost everyday.  I chose the Cubs over the Braves.

My first hint of what was to come over the years for the lovable losers came in 1984.  I never wanted to see a Steve Garvey baseball card ever again.

Andre Dawson gave fans hope and so did Sammy Sosa. 

My wife still gives me grief about my decision in 2003 to watch the game -- or should I say, suffer as the Marlins won three straight to go to the World Series.  

You see, we were in Australia on vacation.  She was lounging at the pool for 3 hours.  I stayed in the room. 

The 15-hour time difference allowed me to watch a night game in the morning -- live.  I wheeled the hotel television to the balcony, raided the mini-bar and kicked my feet up in the warm sunshine to watch baseball.  It wasn't pretty.  My only solace was I could stare out at the ocean and soak in the Great Barrier Reef after each setback.

I couldn't bear not to watch it.  Even on vacation.  I thought it might be the only time I see them get to the World Series. 

I'd love to go back to Australia this year and do it all over again only with a better ending.