Chicago neighborhoods are roughly divided into six sides, ranging from Southeast to Northwest, but there are only two baseball teams: The North Side Cubs and the South Side White Sox, with fan loyalties more or less divided geographically. This presented some complications during my early childhood, as we lived on the West Side, across the street from Douglas Park. At around age four, I asked my mother which team we cheered for. Because we lived south of Madison Street (the dividing line), she told me to cheer for the White Sox, and I have been a Sox fan ever since.
As I grew older, I realized that White Sox fandom appealed to my contrarianism. I have always preferred to reject conformity, and to make the unpopular choice. So even though the Cubs were by far the more popular team, I saw the White Sox as a reflection of independence, or perhaps eccentricity, even during my formative years. Cheering for the White Sox rather than the Cubs was a lot like voting Stevenson against Eisenhower – it was a rejection of the fashionable choice in favor of individualism.
In my eyes, at least, there was also a liberal class consciousness to it. The Cubs played on the affluent North Side, while the Sox were on the more proletarian South Side. The Cubs were owned first by the corporate Wrigley family, then by the actual Tribune Corporation, and now by the mostly right-wing Ricketts family. The White Sox, beginning in 1959, were owned by the maverick and racial progressive Bill Veeck (they are now owned by the self-made Jerry Reinsdorf, who is a Northwestern Law School alumnus).
Now, you may be asking why I did not cheer for both teams. If so, you obviously are not from Chicago. You simply did not cheer for both teams – and if you did, well, you just were not a true fan. And in the way of all rivalries, it was not enough to root for your own team; you also had to root against the other one. You could, of course, have a second favorite team, which led many people to say, “My favorite team is the White Sox, and my second favorite is whoever is playing the Cubs.” My actual second favorite team was the Pirates – my father having grown up in Pittsburgh – which turned out to serve the same purpose.
Exclusive fandom was not unique to White Sox fans. One of my friends, an ardent Cubs fan who grew up on the North Side, still tells the story of figuring out four best words in the English language.
At first, he says, they were “Pitchers and catchers report,” which signaled the beginning of spring training each year.
Later, he decided that his four favorite words were “Cubs win, Cubs win,” but that did not quite get it right.
Finally, he realized that he was made happiest by “Cubs win, Sox lose,” and I had to admit that he had a point.
For most of my life, the two teams had more in common than their fans cared to admit. They were both long-time losers. The White Sox had not won the World Series since 1917, and the Cubs had not won since 1908. The White Sox had thrown the World Series in 1919, achieving infamy, while the Cubs had choked badly in 1969, achieving fame for a near-historic collapse. Even so, Chicago was a Cubs’ town. They have almost always outdrawn the White Sox attendance-wise, and their affiliation with the Tribune and WGN provided them with a national following as well. When I went to law school at the University of California, my classmates, who were from all over the country, were astonished to learn that I didn’t cheer for the Cubs. White Sox fandom was treated like a curiosity – and this was in an era when Maoists were more common in Berkeley than Republicans.
But that is what it was like growing up in Chicago in the 1950s and beyond. You cheered for one team and against the other. President Obama has acquired the same attitude, evidently by marriage. Bill Murray recently showed up at a White House press briefing in full Cubs regalia. Asked for his reaction, the president replied, “He was wearing a Cubs jacket – which for a White Sox fan is a little troubling.” Well, he is the president of all the people, so you can see why he had to be circumspect.
Of course, childhood tribalism is hard to maintain over the passing of years. By the time I reached middle age, my disdain for the Cubs had ripened into an attitude of mature indifference. I still cheered for the White Sox, of course, especially when they won the World Series in 2005. But as for the Cubs, well, I simply didn’t care. “I wouldn’t walk across the street to see them in the World Series, “I quipped, quite confident that I would never be put to the test.
But now the Cubs are actually in the World Series, and I have to admit that I am cheering for them. Years ago, I might have looked forward to seeing the familiar crestfallen look on the face of Cubs fans, once again resigned to failure, but now I am hoping for a victory celebration on the North Side.
Why cheer for the Cubs after all these years?
Because it will be one of the greatest stories in the history of sports. Not only will a World Series victory end a 108 year old drought, but it will be the second time Theo Epstein has put together a team capable of breaking a so-called curse, having done it with the Red Sox in 2004. First the “Curse of the Bambino,” and now the “Billy Goat Curse.” No one ever again is likely to overcome nearly 200 years of combined futility. Who wouldn’t want to see that happen?
In the end, my writerly instincts have eclipsed the prospect of schadenfreude.
So yes, I will say it: “Go Cubs, Go.”
UPDATE: Here is what Hillary Clinton had to say about it, in a 2003 interview:
In our neighborhood, it was nearly sacrilegious to cheer for the rival White Sox of the American League, so I adopted the Yankees as my AL team.
She grew up in north suburban Park Ridge.
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