Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Lovable Losers? Not My Son!

One of the great challenges of living in an area where you didn't grow up -- especially being of the male sex -- is that because people don't necessarily know your history, there are plenty of assumptions about what sports team you root for.

For example, I am not a fan of the Chicago Cubs. Nor am I a fan of the Chicago White Sox. And, just so that everyone is clear, I will never be a fan of those two teams. Or any Chicago-area team. But most people assume that I love them all, love the teams, their histories, their ballparks, etc, just because I live in the city where they play.

But, no. I'm not one of their fans. And I never will be. It just doesn't work that way.

This fact is undeniable: You choose your teams (or your teams are chosen for you) at a young age. In fact, the latest you can become a fan of something legitimately is 21. This is a rule that, while possibly not written in the penal code of every municipality, it known to one and all. And those who choose to ignore it should be routinely harassed. (Is there anything worse than a bandwagon jumper? I think not.)

For example, my uncle, who was living in Brooklyn at the time of my fandom assignment, set me up with the Yankees and the Giants (for baseball and football, respectively) when I was six. And I have been fan ever since. When I went to college in Pittsburgh, I became a fan of the Penguins (at 18, I was still under the line), because I had yet to really choose a hockey team.

Yet when I moved here to Chicago as a 29-year-old, I was past the point of no return. I was not a fan of any of the local teams by then, so I could not become one. It's quite simple.

You don't just change alliances willy-nilly because you've moved to a new place. Sure, I'll go to a Cubs or Sox game, and I'll cheer and applaud with the rest of the attendees when the home-town team does something well, but I'll never -- EVER -- buy something with that red "C" on it or that Old English sox. I have principles, people.

With Barnabas, though, things could get challenging. Will I impose my fanaticism on him, forcing him to root for the Yankees, the Penguins, the Giants? Or will I allow him to choose on his own volition? He will be Chicago born, and he may actually want to be like the other kids in the neighborhood and wear that atrocious royal blue of the Cubs instead of the regal, navy blue of the Yankees.

Well, the answer is clear. He will do what I say and will root for the teams I tell him to. As his father, it is my right. (He will also not eat cream-based soups or watch Star Trek. Them's the rules.) He will be a fan of the teams that I root for, and so help me, if anyone dares... DARES... give us a Cubs onesie or a White Sox bib or (heaven help us) something baby-related from any Boston-area team, friendships may end.

It's that simple.

2 comments:

Jen said...

I disagree! I grew up with the Cardinals who did nothing for me. Sure they'd give my sister straight-A tickets and we'd all have to go as a family and talk about how great she was for sharing them with us but they ignored me and my B grades. But here in Chicago, the Cubs have given me free seats through work. They don't care that I was a B student and am currently a B (or C) worker. They love me for who I am. Plus, I can drink now thereby making baseball more fun. So I'm a bandwagon jumper who loves the Cubs.

manic mamajama said...

(This is Tara, by the way)
How about a lovely Detroit Pistons onesie? Tallen has one and just LOVES it. ;-)