POSTING BY JB MADDAWG
Sports’ greatest tax write off took to the field once again here in Chicago, and they are poised to disappoint a fan base of highly confused baseball fans, north side residents looking for entertainment and fictional characters, i.e. Ferris Bueller. OH, and Jim Belushi, lest we forget the less talented of the Belushi brothers, and the one any decent Chicagoan would trade for the return of his deceased brother, John. Nothing like having a stale acting career and falling back on just “being a Cubs fan” as your occupation. Get a life, you talentless hobo. Once again, as I’m prone to do, I digress.
I’ve really had enough of every “baseball purist”, whatever the hell that is, out of towner and foreign exchange student pestering me how awesome it must be to have witnessed a ballgame at historic Wrigley Field. Well, I’ll tell you. If you make the mistake of taking a car there, you’ll immediately find that Wrigley Field has no parking lot. Yes, a major sports venue with no parking. But don’t worry, Chicago has made certain there is plenty of room in the surrounding areas for bars and housing for serial killers. If you don’t believe me, just a few short days ago, someone had a package sent to Wrigley Field’s gate K. Contents of the box? A severed goat’s head. Welcome to Chicago.
Immediately after paying thirty bucks to some guy that smells of sauerkraut and wearing a Cook County Steamfitter’s Local #597 tank top to park your car in his “driveway”, one can expect to have a nice 15-20 block jaunt to the historic park. Ah, but the majesty of the park itself. Inside, the wafting scents of rewarmed bratwurst and spoiled urinal cakes will permeate the senses. And fail. Oh, how the fail presses down on the fans from the shadows. The feeling of dread inside is most certainly a close simulation of entering Hades itself, lost souls paying to have their guts ripped out by the many reapers dressed in Cubbie blue pinstripes. Don’t worry, management sensed the similarities to Hell and had the “Omnem dimittite spem, o vos intrantes” sign taken down. Look it up, Joe.
After that, find your seats located somewhere between “there’s a giant I beam in front of me” and “nobody said I had to sit on a rooftop”. Trust me, there’s a fine line between being at Wrigley Field and in the vicinity of Wrigley Field. Either way, expect the next three hours of your life to tick away watching the beloved Cubbies lose 11-3. I also advise you to stay in your seat for the duration, since you stand a 67% chance of having a brick from the upper deck fall on you as you make your way to one of the scant few restrooms. Speaking of restrooms, if you venture into one, don’t breathe, soak your shoes in peroxide when you come home, and ignore the dead body in the last stall near the entrance. It may be Cubs longtime shortstop, Joe Tinker. They’re running some tests.
And as one exits the historic ballpark, which is a nice way of saying really $^$%# old, and follows the masses of drunks and disheartened that look forward to the 20 block walk to find one’s car trapped by ten other vehicles, or if public transportation was the gamble, risk being urinated or vomited upon by one of the many riders of the red line. Take me out to the ballgame. Indeed.
Yes, I am a White Sox fan. Yes, the park on the south side has problems. Yet, the minor inconveniences of U.S. Cellular Field can be swept away as soon as a glimpse is had of the giant hanging banner that reads “2005 MLB World Champions”. But, in comparison, Wrigley Field has a lot of overgrown vegetation on the outfield walls, so that’s something. I’ll put it another way. The ballpark on the north side has issues that could be overlooked, if the Cubs just came close to the World Series. The Cubs team of last season was rated by many city publications as one of the worst teams in baseball history. That’s well over a century folks. It’s getting to the point where Cubs fans should get some sort of tax break for being devout masochists.
And remember the severed goat head I spoke of? Go reread, I’ll wait. All good, then? The goat was sent as a nod to the late owner of Chicago’s famed Billy Goat Tavern, Billy Sianis, who brought his goat to the World Series game at Wrigley Field versus the Detroit Tigers in 1945. Sianis was asked to remove the goat, which prompted the Chicagoan to state that because of offending said goat, the Cubs would never win a World Series. Ever. And this has come to pass so far, making fans do all sorts of crazy stunts like trying to sacrifice farm animals in front of the stadium to reverse the curse. As one can plainly see by the World Series banner that isn’t hanging in Wrigley Field, no attempts have been successful.
So much has been put on the curse of the goat, it sometimes dominates common sense for the fans. As a friend of mine once said, “the goat thing happened in 1945. What’s the excuse for the for the previous 37 years of not winning?” Yes, my peoples, the Chicago Cubs last won baseball’s most prized possession in 1908. 104 years of pride swallowing siege. In fact, let’s have a look at various things that have transpired since the Chicago Cubs last won the series.
- Haley’s Comet passed the Earth. Twice.
- Alaska, Arizona, Hawaii, Oklahoma and New Mexico became states.
- Flag poles were placed on the roof of Wrigley Field to hold future World Series banners. They’ve all rusted, and been removed.
- Longtime Cub’s broadcaster Harry Caray was born, and died.
- Pluto was classified as a planet, and had that classification revoked.
- The theory of relativity was introduced.
- Radio was invented.
- The Titanic was built, sank, lost for decades and found again.
- Nuclear power was invented.
- The Soviet Union was established, and collapsed.
- Women and African-Americans were given the right to vote.
- The moving assembly line was introduced.
- Commercial aviation was established.
Life, once again, stranger than fiction. As for 2013, the Chicago Cubs are already on their way to disappointing a new generation of fans. And those fans will be able to say, “I do not fear Hell. I’ve been to Wrigley Field.”
Those tragic souls will be in my thoughts as I lean back in my comfy box seat across town, watching the White Sox give a crap about the people who come to the ballpark. Peace.