Note to moderators: This ain't about food, but it is about Chicago.
I like sports. Always have. Grew up watching the Cubs after school, and living and dying with each pitch, until it hurt too much to see them always lose in the end (I believe 1973 was the end for me) and I went cold turkey.
Been going to Bears games since 1965, and have seen some wonderful things. Including Gale Sayers score six touchdowns. Including the Super Bowl season, every darned home game, cried when they best the Rams (I admit I had tickets for the Super Bowl, too, but I was just married, my wife was pregnant, and like a good husband, and against the Bride's advice, I scalped the tickets and took the cash - stupid, stupid, stupid). I also missed the game when Sweetness broke the record, again for my love, but this is not about that.
For me, the absolute best, most consistent, most enjoyable, was the period in the late 70's and early 80's when I had Blackhawk season tickets. You started with that hulking old Stadium in that gray and threatening neighborhood. Then we crawled up the dark and dank stairs to our seats - first balcony, second row on the goal line the Hawks attacked in the first and third. And you felt the excitement grow as the players warmed up, the stadium filled, and the buzz grew. Next came the cathartic, building, roar of the National Anthem, as the fans limbered up their vocal chords, plugged into the game, and prepared for what was to come. And finally the game, fast, violent, fluid, and amazingly skilled on that tiny ice surface. Denis Savard, Tony Esposito, Steve Larmer, Tom Lysiak, and all the heros and bums that passed through town.
They were always quite good, though never quite good enough to win. Always Minnesota (Dino sucks!), Edmonton or Pittsburgh stood in the way. Unarguably more talented teams, except the North Stars. And when the opposing team was not villainous enough, there was always a Wirtz, Arthur, or later Bill, to vilify with much good reason. (Though there was the precious time when Michael McCaskey tried to get the city and state to condemn all the propery Wirtz had amassed around the Stadium, so the Bears could build a football stadium there, and Wirtz not only killed that with ease, but suddenly the United Center appeared, without discussion, argument or to do, while the Bears languished in a pit by the lake until McCaskey was removed - I liked Wirtz briefly at that moment, but I digress).
But things change. Along came the United Center, and between PSL's, work, and fatherhood, it no longer seemed to make sense to go to games. No more season tickets. Time has proven I made the right choice - the team has gotten steadily worse, and the Stadium, is now just the stadium. The roar is gone. The visceral, cathartic experience that watching the Hawks once was, is no more. And while I follow the playoffs with mild interest, because the games are exciting and the talent is awesome, hockey is best viewed in person in a raucous, old barn on West Madison, that is no more. I guess I am spoiled.
So now I find myself hoping that the lights stay off this time. I hope a sports league, even one that is an after thought today, is finally brought to its knees by its own greed. And Dollar Bill loses money on a business deal. That is how I feel, at least, when I take the time to care, which is not too often.
For I have other things to do - the Cubs are nothing if not entertaining in their ongoing soap opera which clearly will end badly, we just are not sure exactly when or how, there is time to speculate on what the Sox will look like next year, the Bears are looking up (hope springs eternal) and soccer season is in full swing. Who needs hockey?
Still, I miss that roar.
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Feeling (south) loopy