How Art Became a Cubs Fan

First of all, I'd like to say that I'm excited to be contributing to Andy's blog. Not that I have anything noteworthy, interesting, funny, or readable to show you, but it fulfills a deep-seated need to bare my soul to a ton of strangers. So, I thank him for that.

Anyway, onto the thing.

Fair warning: this entry will address baseball. If you don't care about baseball, you can just skip to the end- I've left out the baseball stuff, bolded the text and ENLARGED it, so you can go there to get the gist of this entry.

Baseball Season is Almost Here! And if you're a Chicago Cubs fan, you're counting down the days until you can say, "Oh well, there's always next year."

I've been a Chicago Cubs fan for as long as I can remember. Of course, back when I started caring about baseball, I was also a Chicago White Sox fan.

Which is okay!

I think people in the "sports fan community" want you to pledge allegiance to only ONE sports team per league. (Exceptions being, if the sports league has multiple conferences, you're allowed to have one favorite from each conference but a premier favorite team of whose basket you will place all of your eggs in.)

For years I would watch both Cubs baseball games and White Sox baseball games. It wasn't until my freshman year of high school when some very unpleasant sophomores were proudly displaying their White Sox garb did I make my decision.

I still remember the day I chose to be ONLY a Cubs fan: it was a bright and sunny April afternoon. I was sitting near the back of the school bus, because I thought that's where the cool kids sat (when in actuality, they sat near the middle of the bus...I never understood that but, my lack of understanding of coolness is a succinct enough explanation of why I was not one of the cool kids).

One had a White Sox hat on with long, stringy hair flowing from underneath it. He exuded the type of personality that hinted he couldn't let go of the grunge or post-grunge era of the 1990s (Granted, it was 1997, so I suppose I should cut him some slack in retrospect...but I won't).

This young man was yukking it up with his fellow jabronies, being obnoxious, but in a "I-wish-I-was-as-cool-as-those-guys" kind of way...from my point of view. Well, there was something about the way they acted that compelled me to make my choice.

One of the major differences between middle school and high school (at least for me) is that school ended 35 minutes earlier. Even though the bus ride from middle school took 15 minutes and the bus ride from high school took 45, it meant that I could listen to Cubs Radio on WGN. To listen to Ron Santo and Pat Hughes- even at the tail end of the game- would provide some valuable information- most notably how large the margin of loss was. (I never listened to the Sox on the radio, but I did appreciate Ken Harrelson and Tom Pacioreck in the television announcing.)

ANYWAY

I made the mistake of thinking that these jokers were also Chicago sports fans (even though we were in Bartlett) and made an even greater error in assuming that they would divulge any positive information about the Cubs game (even though they were wearing Sox garb). Boy was I dumb.

13-year old Art: Hey guys, do you know the Cubs score?
Sophomore Jerk: The what?!
13-year old Art: The Cubs score. Series opener against the Dodgers.
Sophomore Jerk: Okay, dude, do you see this hat? <points at his hat>
13-year old Art: Yeah.
Sophomore Jerk: What does it say on it?
13-year old Art: It says "Sox".
Sophomore Jerk: So what does that tell you?
13-year old Art: That you're a Sox fan.
Sophomore Jerk: And what do you think that means?
13-year old Art: That you're a Sox fan?
Sophomore Jerk: Not only that, but that we HATE the STUPID CUBS!
13-year old Art: Why?
Sophomore Jerks: <ignores my question> South Side for LIFE!
13-year old Art: I like the Sox too.
Sophomore Jerk: Oh really?
13-year old Art: Yeah. I like Magglio Ordonez, Mike Cameron, and Ray Durham*
Sophomore Jerk: Well, nobody cares about the Cubs.
13-year old Art: I do.
Sophomore Jerk: Well, where are you from?
13-year old Art: Chicago. Where you from?
Sophomore Jerk: Bartlett.
13-year old Art: Yeah. Cool.**
Sophomore Jerk: No dude, not cool.
13-year old Art: Why?
Sophomore Jerk: The Cubs are a bunch of @#$%^&!. They have %!$ uniforms and their park is full of drunks who don't know #@$! about baseball.
13-year old Art: Oh
Sophomore Jerk: Yeah, kid. Learn somethin'.
13-year old Art: Does that mean I have to pick a team?
Sophomore Jerk: Real men make choices.
13-year old Art: Okay. I need to think about it.
Sophomore Jerk: Don't think too long- your #$%! will shrink.

I never did learn the Cubs score from him. I also never talked to those guys on the bus again. I never met the super cute girl that they hung out with that passed around near-nude Polaroids of herelf. I never wore any Cubs or Sox gear to high school.

Then again, the Cubs lost that day (11-3). I never saw those guys in an honor roll assembly in the auditorium (it was a big auditorium). I probably would've gotten in big trouble if I met that super cute girl who was desperate for male attention (as much confusing fun I would've had). And besides, I hung out with a bunch of nerds in high school who chastised each other more for misquoting the Simpsons rather than for rooting for the wrong baseball team.

That day I decided, fairly or unfairly, those Chicago White Sox ambassadors were hostile to their fellow fans. The one thing that I didn't understand is why this guy did not want to connect with me on my interest and genuine enjoyment of White Sox baseball. The White Sox team was cool. The uniforms were cool. I grew up watching Harold Baines and the Hawk. Old Comiskey had just as much history as Wrigley does now, and I know that was just as much consternation as excitement for New Comiskey (or whatever it's called now). I learned that White Sox fans connected through anger and resentment before connecting through the love of the game.

So I became a Cubs fan.

I am not naive about fandom.

I know that there have been more riots in the 20th and early 21st century over soccer (football) than over civil rights and freedom (probably). I know that marriages between couples where one attended Ohio State and the other Michigan end in either divorce or murder/suicide (probably). Being a sports fan is a good substitute for religion and in some parts of the country, it's the other way around. And of course, Chicago is a wonderful (segregated) city with a dynamic (tumultuous) history and a proud (borderline embarrassing) baseball tradition. These lines are stark. But do they have to be? Would the world be worse if they were blurred a bit? Would the world be a bit nicer if Cubs fans rooted for the Sox (when they did not play each other) and vice versa? I submit that the world would be a little bit calmer and the tradition in the city might shine a little brighter.

Well, now that Ozzie's gone, I'm sure that will be a bit easier. Okay, that was a cheap shot. That was unnecessary.

I'm sure 20 years from now, I'll have a similar soliloquy on Cubs and Cardinals fans....but...yeah. I dunno. That's a tough one.

Go Cubs! (There's an story from even earlier in my life about how I initially encountered the Cubs, but it doesn't involve social alienation, gross profanity, and misdirected teenage sexual urges...so I left it out.)

For those who skipped the baseball part: We can learn a lot about each other if we are willing to listen. Also, those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Oh, and the Mirror of Erised will show your deepest and most desperate desire. Okay, I didn't write about that. Or did I? If you go back and read this whole thing, you'll know for sure! (Oh, and CTRL-F might not work, because I may only refer to it tangentially instead of directly.) 

Thanks again Andy for letting me write for your blog!





______

*The White Sox had NO pitching during this era. It was strange.
**At this point, I thought I was making a friend.