As you may or may not know, your humble blogger was born, raised, and remains a fan of the hapless Chicago Cubs – a professional baseball team that hasn’t done much of anything, besides lose, in more than 100 years. Literally. Being a Cubs fan was never forced on me, it’s just something you pick up – from drinking the water, perhaps, or from watching WGN – when you grow up a couple of hours from Chicago.
While the Cubs’ stadium, Wrigley Field, is a lovely place, being a Cubs fan is little more than a curse. Lord knows I’ve tried to break it, but alas, I remain a Cubs fan.
I was hoping that our boy could avoid that fate. He was born in New York, after all – and you could actually see Yankee Stadium from the room! Not that I’d want him to be a Yankee fan, but still. He’s not been raised in Chicago, he’s never been to Wrigley Field, he’s never even seen a moment of Cubs baseball on the tellie.
Alas: one well-meaning uncle comes along and gives him a Cubs onesie. Nyan loves it. Game over, I suppose. C’est la vie.