The Greatest Trophy in All of Sports Comes Back to Chicago
Last night I found myself in the exact same spot I was when the Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup three years ago, across town at my buddy Chris’s house. Back then, it wasn’t his house, it was Debbie’s–my wife and I wouldn’t introduce the two of them until the following Fall, and they would marry in December of last year. I hunkered down with my buddy and his brother for the game in Chris and Debbie’s living room.
After Bryan Bickell scored late in the third period to tie the game at two, Chris asked me, “Kev, you want another beer?” “Sure, we got time,” I told him, figuring yet another playoff game was headed to overtime, and that it would be a late night. Just then, Dave Bolland scored to give the Hawks the lead. All three of us jumped out of out seats, yelled and hugged each other (we’re really not that close, but it was a great moment!). With less than a minute to play in the game, the three of us were on our feet, intensely watching the Hawks fight off several Bruins scoring chances. With ten seconds to go, Chris started screaming in anticipation of the victory. When the clocked ticked down to zero, we repeated our shouting, jumping, and hugging act. We must have looked like a bunch of kids, but winning a game like this gives people a chance to act their shoe size, not their age. We watched in awe as the Blackhawks celebrated on the ice, shook the hands of the defeated Bruins, and were presented with the Stanley Cup which, for my money, is the greatest trophy in all of sports.
My wife, in bed at the time, texted me, “There are fireworks… Did they win??”
Later, on my drive back home across town, I honked my horn in celebration as I pulled down my street. I’m sure I woke up a few neighbors, but I bet there were probably more people who knew exactly why I was being so obnoxious. At home I re-watched the ending of the game (I DVR’d it in advance, just in case they won) and saw coverage of the masses of people swarming the streets in Wrigleyville, dressed in red, celebrating.
Today I’m at work, tired as so many other people in the Chicago area are, but smiling through the sleepiness.
—
Before the game started, I was at home with my wife, cleaning up after dinner. We were talking about sports, and what it means to fans to win a championship. She knows I’m a diehard Cubs fan, and I might have said something about weeping if they ever won the World Series. My beautiful, intelligent wife, has no interest in sports. She doesn’t mind that I watch games–I’m not one of those guys who’s glued to ESPN for hours everyday–but she couldn’t care less. She told me that she thought it was kind of sad that an adult would get so worked up over a game that kids play.
I can’t fault her for feeling that way. When you think about it, it is a silly thing for a grown man to yell at a television screen, or cry when a group of other men win a big game, even if it is a championship–even if, in the case of the Chicago Cubs, they haven’t won one in over one hundred years.
But sports are an emotional outlet. In life, we experience great days. My wedding day was the happiest day of my life. My dad, who I’ve never seen cry, wept when his three children were born. When else would a person feel similar joy as those monumental life events? Being emotionally invested in a sports team, something that, is of no real consequence but entertainment (“sports is the best form of reality TV,” one sportscaster called it last night), is another way for people to experience the emotional highs and lows that have so much to do with making us human. Who wouldn’t want to experience the emotional high that comes with your team winning a championship?
The joy that you feel when your team is successful is what makes it worth it to follow a sports team through good times and, especially if you’re a Chicago fan, bad.
To Be Determined 
My Dad said once during the Super Bowl, “Sports…the opiate of the masses.” I suppose it explains why he let me quit the farm league so easily when I was 9…what the hell did he care if I stuck with a game he had no interest in watching anyway?
I feel the same way he did to a large degree about professional sports, and it mainly surrounds the fact that they are so arbitrary. Sure, it’s awkward for a second whenever I tell a guy I don’t know, “Yeah…I don’t really follow it,” or, “Yeah, I heard about that on the news!”…but then I get back to knowing that I have so many other more productive things I should be doing. Sports is a time-killer, in my eyes. It’s true that if you can talk sports, you can talk to anyone. It’s also true that we aren’t going to find a cure for cancer while the game is on.
In a way, I DO wish Dad would’ve made me stick with playing baseball because I think that organized sports really are great for a kid to learn to navigate. It teaches teamwork, strategy, and physical prowess and coordination. There is only one winner and one loser, no trophy for second best. And further, there’s a hierarchy on the team, and everyone knows what it is. If you want to rise to the top, you have to put in the work. It’s as simple as that. If you want people to think you’re better than the guy next to you, you have to show everyone that you are. I haven’t missed my calling playing ball, I’m sure of that, but I DID spend way too much time goofing off in high school. My life would have taken a far different path, had I not squandered my time and opportunities the way I did because I couldn’t focus on having an actual work ethic.
I am a fair-weather fan, at best, rooting for Chicago (except the Sox) just because I grew up there. During the baseball season, if I have time to watch enough baseball, I’ll begin to know and remember the lineup, but it all goes out the window the second the Cubs get knocked out of the playoffs for the season. I have very little actual knowledge of baseball outside the rules and the current happenings. Very little history, very little context of each player. I’m like a black person voting for Obama. All I know is that Chicago is my team. I am puzzled by how excited I get when my team wins because it has no actual bearing on anything I do…I’m sure that’s built into our DNA over the course of history or something. I guess everybody needs a cause.
The danger with watching sports is that, especially for some men, it can be all-consuming. Playing sports teaches kids important lessons, though not lessons they couldn’t learn elsewhere, and watching them can foster a sense of community, and bring you joy, but so can a lot of other things.
I could never be one of those people who watches football from noon until eleven on Sundays, but I know people who do. You’re right, Jeff–there’s much more to life than watching sports, and they shouldn’t be one of the more important things in your life. But I do find that they can bring people happiness and joy.
On a podcast I recently listened to, I heard a priest say, “All good things in moderation.” Food, alcohol, and watching sports all apply.
He is the epitome of wisdom. I also have a hard time remembering that things can happen in moderation…for some reason or other, my mind tends to think in either/or scenarios, and most of the time sports just loses out!