The Awful Truth

barrelmakersdaughter.com ♦ June 14, 2012 ♦ 2 Comments

Besides being the name of my favorite Cary Grant movie, the awful truth is something I often have to admit to my friends in St. Louis: I am a Cubs fan. Having resided in Cardinals territory since 1995, I have learned that this news is akin to confessing one has leprosy–at least a social leprosy. It’s even more unforgivable than not having grown up here and thus being unable to answer the all-important-question, “Where did you go to school?” (For those not from St. Louis, this refers to your high school, not your college, and it is VERY important to the natives!) Being a Cubs fan surpasses even that as a social transgression in these parts.

My favorite columnist works for the St. Louis Post Dispatch. Bill McClellan writes in a style I absolutely love–and he is a Cubs fan, too. He occasionally tells of the trials and tribulations of being a Cubs fan, particularly one living in the hometown of a sworn enemy. And I adore him for it! His columns about being a fan of the Cubbies make me feel a little less alone, a little more acceptable and a little prouder of the fact that I am usually rooting for the losing team! It’ll never be about jumping on the glory train–we Cubs fans love with a pure love that doesn’t even expect a win in return for our loyalty. It’s truly an unconditional love!

I grew up going to Wrigley Field with my grandparents, who lived in Chicago. We would drive in from our home in the suburbs, ride the ‘L’ and wind up at a place that always felt bigger than life for me. The ivy covered wall is forever etched in my mind as what a ball park should look like. We always sat along the third base line–I wish I knew the story of why that was the preferred spot. (They weren’t season tickets, so there must be a reason for the preference. Note to self–see if Mom knows why that was.) At any rate, being there with my Grandma and Grandpa during my youth is a priceless memory from my childhood. And could a hotdog ever taste better than one eaten while sitting in the stands between my grandparents? I don’t think it possible.

I imagine most of my native St. Louis friends who are diehard Cardinals fans have similar memories of attending games with their parents and grandparents. (Although, a big difference is they likely saw a winning game by the home team!) Maybe they can even understand my nostalgic attachment to the team and forgive me for cheering on a team that is usually in the “loss”column after a game. But as any Cub fan worthy of the name knows, it’s about the hope, belief and faith that one day, one very fine day, there will be another pennant for our Cubs. And I’m happy to be a part of those eternal optimists. Go Cubbies!