Why I Hate the Cubs
By DeMark

I am a man that loves baseball.

I have spent a significant portion of my life enjoying the “Titanic struggles” (to borrow a phrase from Hall of Famer Marty Brennamen) of my beloved Cincinnati Reds. In total, I estimate that I have been to more than 600 home games in my short life.

When I was seven, Paul O’Neill beaned my little brother in the head with a foul ball from 350 feet away. He must have known he was bothering me at the time, but needless to say, I was hooked. And I think the Reds needed me as much as I wanted them. For a number of years, the Reds amassed a considerable winning record when I attended games, though those were of course better years for the ol’ Redlegs. I like to think they need me even today.

When I left for a summer in Africa a few years ago, I left the Reds in first place. I wasn’t in a locale with running water let alone Internet access for two weeks, and when I finally hitched a ride to the nearest computer, I found the Reds had been so heartbroken at losing their biggest fan that they had refused to win a game since I left. I took their descent from first to near cellar (thank God for the Pirates) as a quiet vote of confidence.

But this is why I am conflicted. As a new resident of Chicago’s north side (or North Side as they insist it be spelled, as if it were a separate state of the Union), I was as enamored as anyone with my first Wrigley Field experience. In my first full season, I made it to about a dozen games despite never having cared for the team.

And there’s the rub.

I don't like the Cubs team itself, but I don't hate them either. I don't see them as a threat either to winning the division or perverting baseball with "bought championships." My disdain for their fans, though, has continued to grow in me since the Cubs "magical summer" of a few years back when only a billy goat's curse and a dork named BartMan could stop the inevitable and all of a sudden everybody was from Wrigleyville.

I’ll first state my defense: true Cubs fans DO exist. As I left a rain-soaked, freezing game two nights ago at Wrigley for two teams I could care less about, the fans that stayed to lambaste me as I exited at the end of the 7th with the Cubs down 4-0 were Cubs fans. Even good baseball teams in good baseball towns of considerable size do not fill the seats daily. But there is no question that the 15,000-25,000 people at the Cardinals stadium live and breathe their team. Like me, I am sure they ache with pain at every mid-May blown hold that costs their team the game.

Unfortunately, there is half a stadium and half a Cubs Nation that actually prefers to see the Cubs near-miss. They think pro sports are about the camaraderie. That’s what little league is for. The big leagues are about winning, entertainment and carrying the hopes and dreams of an entire city, state, region or nation on your back. “Winning isn’t everything”… but you better at least be on your way to winning.

And so I ache. Baseball truly is America’s pastime. It embodies everything that is good and right not just about our country, but about humanity. As I am fond of saying, sports are the perfect microcosm of life. Of all baseball havens I have ever set foot in during my life, Wrigley Field is the closest to heaven. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why before. A friend noted that the miraculous thing in this day and age is when you go to Wrigley, you’re not bombarded with advertisements (I’ll give the Wrigley brand a pass on this, though when the team is sold, we might find ourselves with something like “Viagra Field,” which I guess would be perfect. “Viagra Field: Home of the Chicago Cubs. We play hard, but if we play hard for more than 4 hours, consult a doctor immediately.”).

But I think the real beauty of Wrigley is that the ivy is a metaphor for how baseball just grows out of the city, like entertainment in this fashion is a natural extension of what it means to be human.

It really is beautiful, and I understand why the casual fan might be induced to regularly attending games. Yet instead of using this unique position shared by only a few cities and a few stadiums around the country to force true fans to really show their allegiance and ensure that casual fans either don’t make it into the stadium or pay a hefty price to do so (which would go towards better talent and more winning), the Cubs embrace the “lovable losers” tag and embrace the fan base. The White Sox have not been having trouble getting people to their games either, yet all over the city are phrases from Jim Thome and the like such as, “I didn’t come to HEAR about championships.”

Baseball still occupies a fairly unique position amongst major sports in America that embraces market capitalism in running the team. More money generally translates to more championships. If you’re not winning with that kind of money, you ought to at least have a pet project in mind (see the Anaheim Angels’ goal of creating the first all-Latino baseball team in America). I hate the Yankees, but I know that it’s at least in part due to jealousy.

I hate Cubs fan because half of them are apathetic about the team and the other are apathetic about excluding them.