It was Game 4 of the 1945 World Series at Wrigley Field. Most people were just happy the war was over. William Sianis, who owned the Lincoln Tavern, decided to bring his pet goat, Murphy, to the game. He had a ticket for the goat. He actually paid for it. But when the usher stopped him because the goat smelled, well, like a goat, Sianis allegedly threw his hands up and proclaimed that the Cubs would never win again.
They lost that game. They lost the Series. And then they didn't win another one for 71 years.
People think the curse of the billy goat is just some cute marketing gimmick from the 80s, but for generations of North Side Chicagoans, it was a heavy, persistent cloud of dread. You have to understand the specific misery of being a Cubs fan in the 20th century. It wasn't just losing. It was the way they lost. It was the "June swoon," the 1969 collapse, and the black cat crawling past Ron Santo in the on-deck circle at Shea Stadium.
What Actually Happened in 1945?
The facts are actually a bit weirder than the legend. Sianis wasn't just some random guy; he was a local character. He had two tickets for Box 44. When P.K. Wrigley himself supposedly told Sianis the goat couldn't stay because "the goat stinks," Sianis sent a telegram from Greece later saying, "Who stinks now?"
It’s easy to laugh at it now that 2016 happened. But for decades, this wasn't funny. It was a psychological weight.
Sports history is littered with these weird superstitions, but the curse of the billy goat stood out because it felt so specific to the venue. Wrigley Field is a cathedral of ivy and tradition, but until recently, it was also a museum of failure. When the Cubs reached the World Series in 1945, they were a powerhouse. They had stars like Phil Cavarretta and Stan Hack. They shouldn't have gone on a seven-decade drought. But they did.
The Near-Misses That Kept the Curse Alive
If the Cubs had just been bad, the goat would have been forgotten by 1950. Instead, they were often just good enough to break your heart.
Take 1984. Rick Sutcliffe was untouchable. The Cubs were up 2-0 in a best-of-five against the Padres. They were one win away from the World Series. Then, Leon Durham had a ground ball go right through his legs. It looked like a glitch in the matrix. Fans immediately started talking about the goat again. It was a reflex.
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Then you have 2003. This is the big one. The Steve Bartman incident.
Honest talk here: Bartman didn't lose that game. Alex Gonzalez's booted double-play ball lost that game. Mark Prior losing his command lost that game. But when that foul ball deflected off a fan's hands in the eighth inning of Game 6, the entire stadium felt a cold breeze. You could see it on the players' faces. They didn't see a fan reaching for a souvenir; they saw a ghost. They saw a goat.
Science, Psychology, and Why We Blame Animals
Why do we do this? Why does a rational human being believe a disgruntled tavern owner and a smelly ruminant can influence the trajectory of a baseball?
Psychologists call it "causal search." When we face repeated misfortune that feels statistically impossible, our brains look for a narrative. "We aren't bad at baseball; we're cursed." It’s a defense mechanism. It’s much easier to handle losing if you believe the universe is conspiring against you rather than accepting that your front office is incompetent or your shortstop has the yips.
The curse of the billy goat became a shared cultural language for Chicago. It gave the city an identity. The "Loveable Losers." Without the goat, they were just another team that hadn't won lately. With the goat, they were protagonists in a Greek tragedy.
Efforts to Break the Hex
Cubs fans are nothing if not dedicated. Over the years, people tried everything to get rid of the "hex."
- Sianis’s nephew, Sam, brought goats to the park multiple times to "apologize."
- Fans once hung a butchered goat's head from the Harry Caray statue. (Don't do that. It's gross and it didn't work.)
- A group of fans walked a goat from Arizona to Chicago to raise money for cancer research and hopefully appease the baseball gods.
- The "Reverse the Curse" charity was formed.
Nothing worked. Not until Theo Epstein showed up and decided that maybe, just maybe, focusing on advanced analytics and player development was more effective than worrying about livestock.
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The 2016 Exorcism
The funny thing about the 2016 World Series is that it nearly reaffirmed the curse of the billy goat forever. When Rajai Davis hit that home run off Aroldis Chapman in Game 7, every Cubs fan on the planet thought, "Here we go. The goat is back."
Then the rain came.
The rain delay gave the Cubs a chance to regroup. Jason Heyward gave a speech in the weight room. They came out, scored two runs in the tenth, and finally, finally, the drought was over. The date was November 2, 2016. It was exactly 46 years to the day that William Sianis died.
You can't make this stuff up. Even the "end" of the curse had a weird, supernatural timing to it.
Why the Legend Still Matters
We live in an age of data. We have Exit Velocity, Launch Angle, and Spin Rate. We know why a curveball curves. But the curse of the billy goat reminds us that sports aren't played in a vacuum. They are played in our heads and in our hearts.
The story of the goat is really a story about the endurance of hope. Being a Cubs fan meant showing up to a beautiful ballpark every summer, knowing something would probably go wrong, and coming back anyway. The curse gave a name to the struggle.
If you're looking to understand the history of American sports, you can't skip this. It’s as essential as Babe Ruth or Jackie Robinson. It defines the relationship between a city and its team.
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How to Experience the History Today
If you find yourself in Chicago and want to pay your respects to the most famous hex in sports, there are a few stops you have to make.
Visit the Billy Goat Tavern. The original is tucked away under Michigan Avenue (Lower Wacker Drive). It’s famous for the "Cheezborger! Cheezborger!" bit from SNL, but the walls are covered in Cubs history. You can feel the grease and the ghost of William Sianis.
Walk the Perimeter of Wrigley. Look at the statues. Look at the ivy. Imagine the tension in the air in 1945 or 2003.
Read 'The Cubs Way' by Tom Verducci. If you want the deep dive into how the team actually dismantled the losing culture from a management perspective, this is the definitive text.
The goat is gone, but the story is permanent. It serves as a reminder that eventually, every streak ends. Even the ones involving a smelly pet and a very angry bar owner.
Actionable Next Steps for Baseball History Buffs
- Audit the 1945 Roster: Look up the stats of the '45 Cubs. You'll realize they were actually a dominant team that got caught in a weird post-war roster shuffle, which explains the loss better than any animal could.
- Study the "Exorcism" Strategy: Research Theo Epstein's "Breaking the Curse" blueprint, which he used for both the Red Sox (Curse of the Bambino) and the Cubs. It's a masterclass in organizational psychology.
- Visit the Chicago History Museum: They often have rotating exhibits on Chicago sports lore that provide contemporary newspaper clippings from the day Sianis was kicked out.
- Support the Billy Goat Tavern: It’s still a functioning business. Grab a burger and ask the staff about the Sianis family; they’re often happy to keep the legend alive for the price of a beer.