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The Cubs have made the postseason for the first time in the era of my fandom, and I didn’t want to miss the chance to see a playoff game at Wrigley Field.

The first hurdle to cross: could I even make it happen schedule-wise? Games on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday (if needed) were not the ideal scenario. Tuesday wasn’t great, but it was better than Wednesday.

The second hurdle: who could I get to join me? I started with some of the Cubs fans and season ticket holders I know. Next, I moved to the Padres fans I know. Finally, I tried Chicago residents. The first Chicago friend I asked — my buddy Mike — was down to make it happen and host me on his air mattress.

The third hurdle: not overpaying for this. I tried my best to balance timing and opportunism to get the flight and ticket at the right moment. I messed both of these up. I bought the flight assuming the game time based on my research, and I got that wrong. Changing the flight negated the good deal I got by using my miles a little early. Buying more miles was my only option — not terrible, but not “free” anymore.

I got seats with a good view at a low-ish price point on a third-party site after trying online and missing out, as the remaining seats sold out in two minutes. A day before the game, a buddy with season tickets offered his unsold ones to me. It was a unique scenario in which waiting until the last minute would have been beneficial. Still, I have a sneaking suspicion that if I’d waited, it wouldn’t have worked out either.

So, why cross all of these hurdles in the first place?

That sunk in during the third inning, as Mike hopped over the railing to go get some beers and hot dogs. I was standing, looking out over the field, and I felt a wave of emotion wash over me. My eyes were watering. Why, in the third inning of a baseball game?

Because I really wanted to be there, and I really wanted to meet a friend — and it was happening. On top of that, I really wanted the Cubs to win. I realized that in this year of paying more attention for the sake of this memoir — listening to Cubs games, postgames, and podcasts — I’d begun to care about this team and the roller coaster season they’ve been on. I’m invested, I’ve been showing up, and I care.

Maybe that’s the friendship lesson for the day as well. As Mike and I hung out over beer and burgers afterward, and I heard about his day, I became more invested in him. As he dropped me off at the train and headed off to work, I was left hoping his meetings would go well. I was hoping his year would go well, and that all sorts of things I heard about would resolve or move in a good direction.

I want him to win. I care!

And to care, I had to be there. Maybe that’s the simple truth.

I Care was originally published in 2,000 Miles to Wrigley on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.