“Not that I condone fascism, or any -ism for that matter. -Ism's in my opinion are not good. A person should not believe in an -ism, he should believe in himself. I quote John Lennon, "I don't believe in Beatles, I just believe in me." Good point there. After all, he was the walrus. I could be the walrus. I'd still have to bum rides off people. “
Above is a quote from 'Ferris Bueller's Day Off (I take no ownership of the above clip, it is the property of its owner(s) blahbitty blah blah blah)
I've had this post on my mind for a long time. Long before I started this blog in March.
You know that letter, that conversation, or that speech that you plan in your head for the longest time? The one you write & scribble out dozens of times in your brain? The outpouring of feelings, the piece of your mind that's intended for that girl you like, for your jerk of a boss, or the kiss-up co-worker?
That is what this post is. It's a scribbled, scratched out wrinkled up, un-wrinkled, flattened out piece of me that's finally seeing the light of day. It's about -isms.
Racism, Sexism, Classism, etc. etc.
Everyone knows I've been doing freelance graphic design work as well as freelance art for a while. So everyday, I read the Sun-times, picking out names of companies in a story, searching the 'want' ads, etc. looking in to companies that peak my interest.
Every day, I come upon Richard Roeper's column.
He’s a great writer who “tells-it-like-it-is”, often serving up a smack to the back of the head to stupid celebrities, and others more famous than I.
Roeper’s a dedicated White Sox fan. Good for him.
However.
Every year that the Chicago Cubs and Chicago White Sox play each other, the next day, Roeper will talk about all the ‘idiots’ and ‘drunks’ at Wrigley, poking jabs at the Cubs fan in front of him in line for a hot dog with something like “Man, this line’s about as long as … the 100 years since your team won a World Series!” (I then picture him high-fiving the nearest sox fan within 3 feet, so as not to step out of the hot dog line.)
Now, I was born and raised a Cubs fan. And yes, I heart my Cubbies every season no matter what. Losses suck, but wins are great. That pretty much is the standard in … life.
I was fortunate enough, in 2008 to be at the Sept. 20th game where the Cub’s clinched the division. I also was grateful that I could share that moment with my family. (Dad, mom & sister)
It was great to see 41 thousand+ people on their fee for over an hour, still inside Wrigley Field, dancing, singing, and loving the stranger next to them in a fan type fashion. Then seeing and being part of the (at least) 42 thousand people taking up (and shutting down) all of Clark & Addison for another hour or two, snapping pictures, buying hats, basking in a great moment.
It’s a great memory that I’ll have forever. (even hearing that, after a trip to Al’s beef, that 3 hours after the official game had ended there were still fans inside Wrigley taking in the moment, celebrating w/ players who had come back on the field w/ champagne bottles in hand) (and before a smarmy comment pops up, beer was cut off in the 7th inning, just like every other game. They didn't make extra trips around
to celebrate.)
So I tell you that story, to tell you this story.
At the end of 2009, everyone was doing the ‘best and worst of the decade’.
Richard Roeper was no different, writing 10 best & 10 worst things of the decade. (in general, not solely sports centric) The column consisted of 3 or 4 White Sox moments in the ‘best’ category (out of 10); The World Series in 05, the perfect game, and … something about Ozzie probably.
Good for him.
But then I got to the ‘worst’ section.
Eight.
Eight out of ten of his ‘worst’ column in the 2000’s consisted of Cubs related happenings.
Read that again, because it bears repeating. (yes, it’s bears not bares, not to tie another Chicago sports team into this story)
Now, in my time, I’ve learned that hate is a stupid emotion and a waste of time, simply because it does no one any good. (I’m not saying I haven’t hated things before, but I try extremely hard not to. Cause it’s dumb.)
That being said, I don’t HATE Sox fans. Good, I’m glad you are able to follow something important to you. Yahoo for you.
But the outpouring of White Sox fans that HATE Cubs fans is absolutely overwhelming.
Roeper is one of those people.
Constantly bringing up the 100 year ‘drought’, the fact that the President is a White Sox fan, the fact that Wrigley is near ‘boys town’, the billygoat curse, and Steve Bartman. (leave that poor guy alone, please)
Now, I’m not singling Roeper out, he’s just the one with the nationally read column.
So here’s where everything ties together.
When I go to a Cubs game, I don’t go to get blitzed by inning 3 and blacking out the rest of the game.
I go because I bleed blue. Because inside Wrigley Field there is a buzz, a collective connection between fans and players, and a love & devotion to the entire history of the team. (Ranging from the kids with mitts on to the old ladies with 600 pins in their floppy hat)
Listen to Ron Santo, Ryne Sandberg, Andre Dawson, or Greg Maddux talk about playing as a Cub.
What you’ll hear is passion and love combined with a lump in their throats for a team, a city, fans, and friends that they have connected with in a way that is unable to be expressed in this text.
One of my favorites, is Andre Dawson signing a BLANK contract, just so he could play for the Chicago Cubs. Meaning, he didn’t care what he got paid, he just wanted to play baseball for this team.
Dawson said: "If I had to do it all over again, I probably would do it the same way. It was just a matter, for me, of going somewhere that I knew I would enjoy the game… I couldn't have picked a better place. I always loved daytime baseball and I always enjoyed playing in Wrigley Field."
So, to Roeper, and everyone else who says that they HATE the Cubs (without any real rhyme or rational reasoning behind it)
If you’re going to judge me, think different of me, categorize me, or hold something against me based on the pigment of my hat … my friend, you need to take a look in the mirror, cause there is a problem staring back at you that you need to address.
So let me drink my Old Style, let me sing the 7th inning stretch, let me wear my hat proudly, let me have a good time, and let me cheer on my team without your judgment.
There are bigger problems in the world, or even your neighborhood, that don’t involve the logo on my hat.
Hello again everybody!!
--Nick
Directions here.
