This is what it sounds like when Cubs cry

Tonight, the Chicago Cubs begin the journey to erase 99 years of futility with the opening game of their division series against the Los Angeles Dodgers.
This is our second straight trip to the playoffs, a feat almost unheard of in Cubs history, and our best chance to make the World Series since the 2003 Steve Bartman debacle against the Florida Marlins.
We earned the best record in the National League over the course of the regular season, giving us home field advantage in the playoffs. Unfortunately, if -- and it makes my palms sweaty and bowels loose to even consider the possibility -- we make the World Series, the American League will have the home field advantage thanks to that horrid, 15-inning epic All-Star game that the AL won 4-3.
It's difficult to effectively convey what the Cubs mean to me. My love and dedication to them runs as deep as my affection for Prince. But while my support of Prince has been repaid in my lifetime with triumphant moments in the 1980s and some thrilling spectacles recently (Super Bowl XLI), being a Cubs fan is like being forced to buy "Rave Unto the Joy Fantastic" over and over again.
I've been embarrassed at times to be a Prince fan, but he's never made me cry. In 1984, when the world was in a frenzy over "Purple Rain," the Cubs made me cry when they let a 2-0 series lead in the NL Championship slip away with three consecutive losses to a-hole Steve Garvey and the San Diego Padres.
In 1989, as Prince topped the album charts with the "Batman" soundtrack, the Cubs' bat men brought tears to my eyes again, losing the NLCS in five games to the a-hole Will Clark and the San Francisco Giants.
The next nine years saw Prince and the Cubs fall into decline. I stood by them both. Prince changed his name to an unpronounceable symbol and the Cubs were realigned in the NL Central Division. The Cubs benefited far more from the identity change and they returned to the playoffs n 1998 via the Wild Card, thanks in part to the record setting season of Sammy Sosa. The excitement was short-lived, however, as they were swept 3-0 by the Braves.
Five years later, Prince was a Jehovah's Witness and the Cubs put together their best team in ages, mounting a 3-1 series lead in the NLCS against the Marlins. The Cubs dropped Game 5, but were still only five outs away from the World Series in Game 6. That's when Bartman, also a die-hard Cubs fan, reached out for a foul ball and in the process triggered another legendary choke job. They lost in seven games and I cried.
Rebounding from a last place finish in 2006, the Cubs won the division in 2007, but made a mercifully quick exit from the playoffs, losing in three games to Arizona.
Besides solace from my friend Cory, I'm often left to suffer alone in my Prince misery. That's not the case with the Cubs. I don't think there's anyone in my family who isn't a Cubs fan, led by my beloved grandfather, who died never seeing the Cubs win a World Series. He watched every game of every season, cursing when they lost and jingling the ice in his whiskey and water a little louder when they won. Every time the Cubs come close to getting over the curse, I think Grandpa and Harry Caray must be up there pulling some strings and celebrating.
It's an emotional roller coaster I don't look forward to riding this October.
A couple day ago, though, I found some therapy in the form of a song by the great Eddie Vedder. He, like fellow 1990s superstar rocker Billy Corgan, is a big Cubs fan. I think there's an appropriate connection between grunge rock aesthetic and the Cubs. Apparently, Mr. Cub Ernie Banks understands that and asked Vedder to write a song for the team. This is what he came up with:

If you're a Cubs fan, it will give you goosebumps. Vedder sonically captures the optimism, spirituality, depression and passion of Cubs fans.
In the following clip, Corgan displays the strain and heavy-heartedness of Cubdom.



Prince remains silent on the issue.