Thoughts from the Windy City

I've spent the past few days in Chicago staying at the Amalfi Hotel, where my room overlooks Harry Caray's Chicago Restaurant. We're officially a few days into summer and the Cubs are in town. One of the people I'm here to work with--who lives near Wrigley Field--told me that he heard the biggest roar he's heard in years the other night when the Cubs came back to win a game in the ninth. Right now they're riding a six-game winning streak.

The White Sox won last night after rallying in the eighth.

A couple of things I've noticed being on the road. First of all, I find it almost impossible to completely cut myself off from the sporting world. I don't say this because I'm some kind of a super fan; in fact, I just had to check the standings to see how the Cubs and the White Sox are doing this year. I say this as a person who just goes about his normal routine. Yesterday for lunch, I stopped by a pub for a burger and was served by a bartender wearing a Cubs t-shirt. She paused in mid-conversation with me to give some kind-hearted grief to another patron who had the audacity to suggest that the Cubs were going to lose their next game. And of course, there were four televisions on in the bar, with sports on each of them. The USA Today paper that gets delivered to my hotel room every morning has sports highlights on the front page, as do the news websites that I glance at when the meetings grow boring and stale. I know it's not a huge revelation, but sports is all around us. Let's face it: if it weren't for sports, would Harry Caray's name be used to brand a restaurant chain?

Another thing I've noticed here in Chicago is the different attitude the people have towards their local sports teams. As everyone knows, the Cubs haven't come close to a World Series title in years, and even though they're on a six-game winning streak, they're still below .500 on the season. Yet, I haven't heard anyone complaining about how they're doing. Of course, a true Yankees fan would tell you how that attitude plays a big role in the losing: if you expect to lose, you're going to lose. That sentiment can certainly be applied to Red Sox fans. But I'm not saying that everyone is happy here in the heartland. Yesterday at lunch, for instance, I read through the sports section of the Chicago Sun-Times and read one columnist who was looking forward to the time when the Cubs won't be owned by the Tribune corporation anymore, seeing as how their incompetence has only served to extend the already interminable wait for a championship. And at the airport, I heard some typical fan disgruntlement regarding poor management of the relief pitchers and disbelief that one guy's slump can last so long. So, the criticism, fair or not, is there. What's not there is the venom that goes along with that criticism that is so common in Red Sox Nation. If a Cubs fan is like Eeyore, just waiting for the black cloud to pour down rain, then Red Sox fans are like the compulsive gambler who craves the high of winning but deep-down inside expects to lose, and when the losing begins, he'll be the first to mock himself and those around him with the most bitter phrase he can think of: I Told You So.

My neighbor, when I told him that I was going to try and root for the Red Sox asked the perfect rhetorical question: Why would anyone want to root for the Red Sox. Turns out he was just the first person to say that to me.

So, as the baseball season advances towards July 4th, it's safe to say that I have not been completely successful in embracing the Sox. The other night, for instance, when the Red Sox lost to the Mariners in the 11th, I have to admit to feeling satisfied and elated rather than bitter. But I have made some progress, if I can call it that. Most importantly, perhaps, I've managed to convince Sam and Owen that I'm rooting for the Red Sox. Is it right to lie to my children? I don't know. All I know is that a large part of fatherhood, I've found out, is becoming adept at managing the world of parental half-truths and strategically withheld information. We do it for their comfort; we do it for our own sanity.