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Mr. Jenson struggled to crack open his beer and sighed.

It was September and that


meant the Cubs were on. Whether it was root beer on his dads lap or ice chips in
his hospital bed the Cubs were always on. It was his one constant in life. He was not
a church going man but he never lost faith. He didnt have many friends left but he
knew the Cubs would never leave him. Every May gave him hope and every autumn
took it away. He could hardly remember his grandchildrens names but every
glorious memory of Wrigley shimmered.

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