I was raised by a woman who loathed baseball. Back in the 1950's her step-father commandeered the one television in the house during the summer and fall months, nothing but baseball would air in their house. Growing up, I often heard my mother exclaim "I hate baseball! Turn that off!" and so we would. My father being more of a football/basketball fan, did not argue and so life went on and I never learned very much about baseball.
Enter my youngest son. From the moment he was born, balls intrigued him. Velour, leather, big, small, foot, basket, soccer ... it mattered not. If it was round and moved, my son would become completely engaged. It was a sure way to soothe him in any instance. Teething? Turn on a soccer game. Balls were in abundance in our home, if for any other reason than to appease my youngest child.
By the time he was able to stand, he had a ball in his possession at all times, even in bed at night. By that time, I was knowledgeable in all sports involving a ball. He was born in 1996 which was a very good year for basketball here in Chicago. Chicago has always made it easy to love ball involved sports.
When he was able to run, he played basketball, then football and finally tackled baseball. I believe he was 7 and the park district we chose was McGuane ... at 29th and Halsted. If you know anything about Chicago, you know that is a stone's throw from Sox Park. The love of all things White Sox seeped into our lives, and my love of baseball began.
My son was a natural, but for some reason, he did not fall in love as much as I did. He played baseball for a few more years, BUT I WAS THE ONE HOOKED.
He was made to sit in April, at Sox Park while I watched my two favorite teams battle in Opening Day Snow.
While we celebrated the White Sox World Series win together as Sox fans, the house would thereafter be divided for at least a decade. Whenever he would proclaim that the Cubs were going to the World Series, I would always simply turn to him and scream "RING!", and he would stomp away.
Then summer 2016 came. He would keep me updated on the Cub wins and my skin didn't crawl. By September, I may or may not have caught a tiny wisp of Cubs fever, but I did not speak it aloud.
When the series came to L.A. Dodgers versus the Cubs, I had to draw a line. I was NEVER a Dodger fan. I had to choose and so CUBBIES it became.
I even bought a hat. With 'Good Guy' black and gray of course. #GOCUBBIES