Summer has embraced us in record-setting fashion. The Bulls found out one man was even more important than they thought, the Blackhawks got another dose of NHL parity, the Fire is good but probably not enough for glory, and the relentless heat just won’t leave us alone. Were our record-breaking temperatures another version of the hated Miami Heat?
And what of Da Bears? Well, they are being the Bears, predicting Super Bowls while playing with most of the same guys that haven’t come close since 2007.
So what have we got? The Cubs and Sox (in alphabetical order, so I don’t get mugged anywhere in the city). Just the other day, however, I got a shock from these infernally lovable but eternally “come-up-short” baseball teams. I looked up from my MJ memory book and discovered last week that the Sox were on an eight game tear and led the American League Central by three games. And even more wondrous, the Cubs were 8 of 11 going into the All-Star break. Do they only win when they’re in last place?
So who do I follow now? Who gets my loyalty for the next six days or weeks? The frustration of Cubs-Sox relationships flooded my feverish Chicago mind.
When I came to Chicago in 1965, I vaguely knew the Cubs had not played in a World Series in a long time and hadn’t won a championship for even longer. Later, the Sox won it all once in the early ’80s. Naturally, I latched on to the Cubs ship. I figured it this way: “The Cubs haven’t won lately, so they’re due. So if I’m on their bandwagon, we’ll all party soon. (I was caught up on Cub history later.)
Webster defines a bandwagon as “a faction, or cause that attracts adherents or amasses power by its timeliness, showmanship, or momentum; a current or fashionable trend.” I didn’t see much timeliness or showmanship in the Cubs, and momentum seemed to be something they didn’t know much about. But what the heck, I jumped, and away we went…sideways.
Along the way, I found out that Chicagoans, even in the ‘burbs, were measured by their loyalty to either team. Talk to a Cub fan, and mention of the Sox gets a stare that terrifies you. Talk to a Sox fan, and a Cubs joke gets you a ticket to What Cheer, Iowa, to watch grass grow. “You are either a Cubs fan or a Sox fan, but it’s permanent, not temporary; you can’t switch,” fan after fan shrieked at me in sports bars and even church socials. “But I like a winner. Why can’t I recognize the best team when I want?” I shouted back.
Well, I got on the Cub bandwagons in 1984, 1989, and 1999, and what did it get me? Instant annihilation in the postseason. Then came 2005, and Ozzie and the boys figured it out for one lovely October. I almost had a heart attack running down south to jump on the black-and-white wagon. I loved it even though I saw most of the big plays from my hospital bed.
I like August-September bandwagons. If the Cubs are 20-5 in April, I stay cautious and wait. If the Sox are 40-25 in early June, I continue holding my breath.
So here comes 2012. The Cubs are rebuilding; be patient, management says. They break out of the gate with their legs crossed. Then comes Rizzo, LaHair starts to hit a bit, and the July rally takes place. And the Sox? Come on, Konerko fans, our boys walloped Texas four straight and built a three-game lead in the awful AL Central. The wagons await.
I can’t help it, Sox and Cub fans. I am a transplanted Chicago baseball fan on a mission, like the guys in “Saving Private Ryan.” I recognize and support the team that rises to the top in any given year, by August or September.
So there.
One problem remains, though. What do we do, fans, if both the Cubs and Sox win pennants? More to the point, what do I do? Okay, okay, one miracle at a time.
That’s best left to another column.
