What do we talk about when the season ends?

The final series of the 2025 season arrives not with a bang, but with a whimper. Cubs vs. Cardinals. Wrigley vs. Busch. A rivalry older than most of us, now softened by the weight of a long year. The standings may be settled, the playoff picture drawn and both teams find themselves on the outside looking in. But this weekend is not about stakes. It’s about endings.

What to make of a diminished thing.

The Oven Bird sings not of spring’s arrival, but of its passing. He asks what song we sing when the world turns brown, when the blaze of summer dims. It feels like a question baseball fans know intimately. September baseball without the promise of a postseason is something we watch not for wins, but for moments: a final at-bat, a rookie’s last chance, a sunset over the bleachers. It reminds us that baseball is not just about glory– it is about showing up. And sometimes about letting go.

So as the final outs are recorded and the sun sets on this season, I think I might be reminded of that bird, singing in the fading light. I’ll be thinking of all the fans who’ve kept score, kept faith, kept showing up. I’ll be thinking of you, Bleed Cubbie Blue, who’ve followed the Cubs through thick and thin and have read what I’ve had to say about the St. Louis Cardinals this season. And I’ll be grateful — for the season, for the stories, and for baseball.

As for the series itself, even more so than usual, I’m not sure what we can expect. The scheduled starters are Miles Mikolas, Matthew Liberatore, and Michael McGreevy. The sun seems to be setting on Mikolas; Liberatore and McGreevy, two youngsters, stand at the dawn of their careers. It’s the same on the position player side. There’s Nolan Arenado—perhaps a future Hall of Famer, but now diminished. And there’s Masyn Winn, beginning to make his mark. The Cardinals are a team in transition. I suspect many of these faces might be seen for the last time in a Cardinals uniform this weekend.

And that, too, is part of the song. Baseball is a game of arrivals and departures, of seasons and cycles. The final series is not just a goodbye—it’s a quiet turning of the page. A moment to say: we were here. We’ll be back.

The season ends, but the song goes on. See you next spring!