How I became A Cubs Fan

It was 1982. 

My new step brother was a baseball fan. 

As a new to baseball girl, I had no understanding of the north/south divide or the rivalry between the Cubs and the Sox. To me it was all baseball, it was spending time with my new family, it was learning a new game. Although we watched all sorts of baseball on TV, we went to Comisky to watch the Sox play. To me, it was all baseball, it was spending time with my new family.

We watched the Cubs on TV. It wasn’t until later that I learned that the reason we watched the Cubs that year was because of Ryne Sandberg and Leon Durham. I still remember their names. I still remember seeing the ivy on the walls of the Friendly Confines. I remember Harry Carey loudly say “Hooooolllly Cooooow” when good things happened. Harry Carey was an icon: his massive glasses, his gravelly voice, his “holy cow.” 

To me, it started being Cubs baseball. It was spending time with my new brother, watching baseball in the basement on the wood paneled floor console TV. It was seeing the green ivy, the “Hoooollly Cooooow” of Harry Carey, the crack of the bat. Cubs win! Cubs win!

It was because my brother loved watching Ryne Sandberg and Leon Durham that I became a Cubs fan. It was because of how excited he got when they each did so well. I would pay extra attention when they were at bat or if a ball was headed their way. I knew that if they did well, that Jeff would be happy.

Imagine the irony when I found out that Jeff was actually a Sox fan. We laugh about it to this day, him wondering where he went wrong as a brother, me fondly reminiscing watching baseball in the basement on the wood paneled floor console TV. It was seeing the green ivy, the “Hoooollly Cooooow” of Harry Carey,  the crack of bat, the awe on my brother’s face.