Ladies and gentlemen, I have an announcement. A proclamation, if you will: I have been living here for two years, but now I am officially a Chicagoan. I have finally found the losing team to which I am going to give my undying support.
That’s right, someone get me a Bulls jersey. (Actually, don’t. I’m fundamentally opposed to people wearing jerseys in public. All you balding fat guys out there, get the memo: You are not Eddy Curry!)
So I missed the Michael Jordan glory years by about a decade. I’m OK with that. Everybody has to have a team to root for in their city.
It won’t matter that the Bulls are in a bit of a slump. From what I’ve gathered, it seems like the gist of being a Chicago sports fan is about being miserable because your team sucks and calling into radio stations to complain about it. (In fact, if my boyfriend makes me listen to another caller on The Score carry on about the Bears’ quarterback situation, I’m either going to punch someone or break up with him so I can listen to my Tim McGraw CDs again.)
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I never realized a town could be so crazy about its sports teams–even when they suck–until I moved here. In Los Angeles, you cheer for the Lakers when they win, and at UCLA, where I went, you wear your “A Bruin lasts forever, but a Trojan is only good once” shirt for the big rivalry game. Then you go back to writing your screenplay.
Here, it’s like you’re supposed to cover yourself in body paint and run naked through subzero temperatures when your team is losing to its fiercest opponent just to prove your loyalty. And then you commiserate with your pals in rivers of Old Style.
Well, I won’t be pounding beers over the Bulls this year. Too many calories. But I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities to get pissed off and be the token female caller on some postgame show.
This weekend’s season openers were a perfect example. Two starters were missing because they were suspended for brawling in a preseason game. Despite this obstacle, the Bulls gave several surges of effort and had a chance to win both games, but didn’t pull it out.
I haven’t been following the team long enough yet to know whose head I want on a platter as a result of these losses, but someone should definitely be fired!
(Do I sound irate yet? If I do ever get on a postgame show, I definitely don’t want to be outdone by any middle-aged men who are supposed to be mowing the lawn but have snuck their cell phones outside so they can call in.)
I guess I just don’t understand why people can’t be optimistic about this season. One of my bosses told me it’s because no one cares about the Bulls anymore because they’ve been disappointed year after year. She said that once I live here for a while longer, I’ll likely lose interest too.
But the Cubs are routinely terrible and they sell out every game! I guess that’s just because there are more Lincoln Park trixies wearing children’s-size Cubs shirts at games.
But if you step back and think about it, the Bulls can beat that too. They have the Luvabulls–and they actually gyrate, thrusting their pelvises in odd directions. (Although I suppose one could argue that this happens at the Cubby Bear after the 7th inning as well.)
The bottom line is that the Bulls are just being unfairly targeted with the city’s winless angst this year because they are the most recent team in memory to deliver a winning dynasty.
I may be new to town, but I say, ease up people! Maybe, just maybe, that glass you’re holding is half full.
Besides, if you’re gonna watch someone lose, Kirk Hinrich is way cuter than Nomar Garciaparra.
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