How we all became fans

For as long as I can remember, there has always been that one person in every group of friends/family who has a great uncle…what ever story. Almost like the game telephone, the more each story has been passed down from generation to generation, the less likely any of those oh so memorable flashbacks actually happened.

To me it never mattered if that recollection,of what always seemed like the oldest man in a 100 mile radius, began with their childhood, those many celebrations or what he had for lunch that day, I could always guarantee each story would conclude with a back in my day… Obviously referring to the Cubs, Blackhawks or Bears.

Though I may be 23-years old, or to most years young, I have been through more heartache than any one sports fan should go through in their life time. I guess I should thank my parents for that, their inability to predict a Cubs World Series potential has led to a more tears than any one of my high school boy friends combined.

From birth, Chicagoans are taught sticks and stones, what ever you say bounces off of them and continues to dig many sports fans into a deeper hole than they are already in. While I will give credit to the Green Bay Packers, St.Louis Cardinals and of course Minnesota Wild fans who, throughout my years in sports, have never learned to shut up around innocent kids. Gosh, my father yells at me almost every day for swearing on the phone, asking where I learned all of these terms from, hmm let’s think, 90 percent of fans mouths perhaps.

The one thing I still do not understand, after all of these years, while Chicago continues to strengthen their line-ups and overall records the rude interactions, and by far my favorite jokes about Jay Culter, never get any better. Granted that is a much bigger discussion to be had at a later point in time, I want to point out the fact that my professors at the collegiate level consistently demand for new ways to discuss Lord of the Flies after so many years. One wouldn’t think after numerous struggling seasons, great potential to bash the Windy City would result in such disappointment.

Over the passed couple years it has seemed as though my dedication to one MLB, NHL, NBA, and NFL isn’t shared by my fellow Chicagoland neighbors, let alone the rest of the country. I have experienced first hand way too many friends jump ship. Whilst I could take a moment to talk about one of my sisters, who became a White Sox fan after 2005, I simply want to point out the how effortless it is to forget about those stories as a youngster that meant so much to you.

While I do reflect back on those days just like that great uncle…what ever his name was, I can still appreciate the good old days when Derek Lee hit bombers out into left center field and Paul Konerko’s name read more times than not of every kids shirt in school. It is still humbling to stop and think about when dad told you stories about Chicago sports when he was a kid.

Though I don’t pay for, I would like to think I keep a mental note like most about Chicago sports history and accomplishments this town has made with a bat and ball, slap shot and even the power of the word Ditka.

For years, I stood by “my” teams through the ups and downs “Let’s be real, unfortunately it was more consistently down.”Through those downs though I can proudly say I have never cheered on any team but my own. I have occasionally prayed to sweet baby Jesus to help any opposing team to beat the Packers because Hamblin blood/Chicago blood didn’t raise a fool

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