The wait is finally over – it just took 108 years is all.

These were years full of despair, embarrassment, ineptitude and soul-crushing disappointment, but after enduring all that, Chicago Cubs fans of all ages achieved something that they had always hoped for and when it happened, the feeling was pure joy.

In the early hours of Thursday morning, the Cubs slayed all of their postseason demons and ended the longest championship drought in the four major sports. Their last title came in 1908 during the Theodore Roosevelt administration. Just to give more perspective on how long ago that was, Czar Nicholas II was the leader of Russia, the Ottoman Empire still existed and there were only 46 U.S. states.

I was born in 1984, the first year the Cubs made the playoffs in 39 years, and my brother was born in 1989, the next time Chicago made the postseason. It was almost as if we were meant to root for the Cubs; but if that was the case, we got a raw deal until this season.

Becoming a Cubs fan was instilled in me before I could speak. There are baby photos of me wearing a Cubs T-shirt, Cubs bib and a tiny Cubs hat, some of them all at the same time.

Of course, my dad was responsible for this, but as soon as I could talk, I latched on tightly to America’s most downtrodden franchise.

When I was 2 years old, I thought every team on TV was the ‘Cago Cubs. Listening to legendary announcer Harry Caray was a fun time, although to me, he just looked like an old guy with funny glasses.

When I was younger, the Cubs were just my favorite team and it was just a fun alliance. As I grew older, though, I started to wish I hadn’t chosen that team. There were long stretches of just flat-out terrible teams and the excruciating loss to the Florida Marlins in 2003 that led to infamous Cubs fan Steve Bartman going into hiding and me wandering my college campus with friends like a stoned drifter after the loss in Game 7.

So when the playoffs began a few weeks ago, I started watching the games with cautious optimism, as did my friends. The Cubs had the best regular-season record in the Majors and were the favorite to win it all despite their years of gut-wrenching disappointment.

The first task was to take down the San Francisco Giants, a team that had won the last three titles in even years and had the talent to do it again. After dispatching the Giants, they moved on to Los Angeles, the team that had easily eliminated the Cubs from the postseason about a decade ago.

However, even when down in the series, Chicago didn’t give up and took down the Dodgers. At this point, I was starting to become convinced that this could be the year.

Now the final stage was set. The Cubs were up against the Cleveland Indians, a team that had its own title drought going back to 1948. One of the teams was going to end the pain for its followers and for the majority of the series, it looked like it was going to be the Indians.

When the Cubs fell down 3 games to 1, I wasn’t ready to give up, but I started to mentally prepare myself in case I, my family and the rest of us massive legion of fans were disappointed again.

Unlike Cubs’ teams of the past, the 2016 edition kept fighting and eventually tied the Series.

When Game 7 rolled around, I was nervous and hopeful at the same time. I tuned in for the first few innings and watched the Cubs jump out to an early lead and then continue to pad it.

While others were crowning the Cubs on Twitter and Facebook, I wasn’t about to do that. This franchise had broken my heart too many times for me to pack it in.

Sure enough, as you know, the Indians came back to tie the game. At that point, I couldn’t bear to watch and I turned off the TV. If the Cubs were going to blow this completely, I didn’t want to see it. My stomach was in knots, so I sat in my chair and hoped that things would turn around.

Meanwhile, my dad relentlessly texted updates of how the game was going and how things had turned around, which were then passed on to me from my wife. Finally, I turned the TV back on and watched the Cubs pile on each other around the pitcher’s mound at Progressive Field in Cleveland.

As I watched my beloved Cubs celebrate, I wasn’t sure how to react. This was a moment I has wished for since I was in elementary school, but Chicago had always come up short. Now that it had occurred, all I could do is smile as it gradually sunk in.

I listened online to the massive crowd outside of Wrigley Field sing “Go Cubs Go” in unison and watched fans cheer, cry, high-five and hug each other. I spent the remainder of the evening – technically the morning – reading articles on my phone about how it meant to so many people. I tried to go to bed, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

In the hours before I wrote this, I watched videos of senior citizens reacting to the win with glee and it warmed my heart.

I read a story about how Cubs fans took to the walls of Wrigley Field and wrote messages in honor of those who didn’t live long enough to see this “curse” end.

Another one involved a woman whose mother had passed away during the earlier games of the Series and how much it meant to her that the Cubs finished the job.

There was the man who drove all day to visit his father’s grave three states away and listen to Game 7 on the radio with him.

This title wasn’t just for the players, coaches or even Chicago. It was important to millions of fans around the world. It was a way to cope with the tragedy of losing a loved one, to get closer to family and friends, to connect with strangers, or simply to get away from the stresses in life.

As painful as all those losses were and how frustrating it was to watch teams like the New York Yankees or St. Louis Cardinals rack up title after title, in the end, it made things more meaningful.

We went to sleep, work, school or just out in public happy. The feeling of a gigantic weight was lifted off our shoulders and it was amazing.

Now we just hope that other teams like the Indians and their fans can experience that as well.

The year 2016 will live on indelibly in our minds and hearts. Hopefully, it won’t take another 108 years to feel this way again, but even if it did, it would be worth the wait.

Ryan Stieg can be reached at 906-228-2500, ext. 252. His email address is rstieg@miningjournal.net.