NEW YORK — Way before wild cards and “Moneyball,” before instant replay and interleague games, before the Chicago Cubs had endured seven painful decades without a single stinkin’ pennant, the dubious drought was more akin to a mid-life crisis: 39 years old.

It was 1984 and apparently anything was possible, according to George Orwell.

Even at Wrigley Field.

Especially at Wrigley Field.

As summer heated up and the sun finally shined on Chicago, the old town was all abuzz about its baseball team on the North Side. Ryne Sandberg and Rick Sutcliffe had the Cubs steaming toward their first winning season in 12 years, seemingly primed to stop those two infamous streaks at long, long last.