My favorite shirt during the summer months is a Cubbie-blue #23 Sandberg tee; it fits me perfectly and is nice and light for the hot Chicago sun. Wearing it around town one would think not much criticism would be directed at it apart from the hoard of White Sox fans, but Chicago remains perhaps the worst place to be a Cub fan. That is because Cub fans themselves are the worst fans in sports, and in Chicago they come in droves.
I am continually told how much of an idiot I am for supporting my lovable losers. That no matter how many off-season moves they make, or how many games I go to, it will never amount to anything in terms of winning a World Series Championship. I, being the diehard I am, respond with the annual “this could be our year” cliché I have used so many times. Yet, seriously speaking, who am I kidding? Cubs fans have been saying this for over a hundred years straight. If history repeats itself, and history does mind you, we are simply denying the inevitable and promoting the highly improbable. We are plain ludicrous for endorsing such an organization, and should switch our allegiance, perhaps to the White Sox. They did win the World Series in 2005, you know.
Listen, the end-all, be-all for the heat Cubs fans take will be the day the Cubs take home a championship; according to religious dogma, however, that will be the same day Hell freezes over, and since that is not happening anytime soon, it looks like we are in it for the long run.
Do not flee from the persecution of your allegiances to Cubdom, but rather embrace it. Admit you align yourself with the worst fans in sports. Cosign your name to the document that will seal your destiny as one who repeatedly sacrifices oneself for a franchise that will never achieve the glory it desires. Fail to do your job in motivating the team to win, and then, if you are really feeling the spirit of things, designate yourself as a beer-guzzling bleacher bum.
You see, sometimes being the worst is not necessarily the “worst” thing one can do. In fact, if worst is the best, then through simple logic, we as Cub fans are the best fans in sports. We exemplify some of the greatest traits known to man: loyalty, perseverance, empathy, etc. Heck, we don’t even blame the players for the misery we endure; instead we picked a goat. There is a greater purpose to our cheering and endless heartache; a purpose no other fans can understand. We instill our faith in a team who continually disappoints, and follow them whichever way they may go. We are believers, and one day, perhaps not in this lifetime, we will achieve our salvation in Wrigleyville.
“Funny the way perception works,” I think to myself as I throw on my Sandberg t-shirt.