Chicago Sux

Thanks for that grand introduction, Coletrain. I think a good way to start my tenure here would be to explain this nom de guerre of mine. Far from a reference to life's most unforgiving beverage, Nati is actually short for my beloved hometown, Cincinnati OH (and spell it right, goddamn it!). Stuck here as I am in Chicago, it's important to remember my roots. The contrast could not be any greater between two Midwestern cities, the first named after the greatest leader of the greatest nation in history, and the other named after a wild onion. Despite having cheaper housing, cheaper alcohol, and hotter women, Cincinnati still gets a bad rap from everyone out there who thinks Chicago is the quintessential symbol of Midwestern toughness and even-temper. But we only need to look at two recent events to dispel that rumor: sports and cigarettes. Today, I'll describe the first of those two, and save my thrashing over the recent castration that is the Chicago smoking ban for later.

Cincinnati and Chicago are both known for having two legendarily awful teams. The Bengals haven't had a winning season since 1990, and since then have had a svelte 71-153 record before this year. The Cubs, well, if you haven't heard their fans sulk every year about their trials and tribulations, consider yourself lucky. Both teams have recently experienced a dramatic season of success, and how their fans have handled it tells a lot about the character of their respective cities. When the 2003 Cubs imploded, missing yet another chance at the World Series, the gnashing of teeth here was insufferable for any non-Cub fan, and the sad temper tantrum was only slightly worse than Cub fans' shameful bashing earlier this year of the victory of their honorable sister team to the south, the White Sox. Not once did one of them admit that maybe their team just didn't deserve to win that year. The only enjoyment I could gather from this cheese-and-whinefest was the realization that Cub fans, deep down, want their team to fail, because it gives them something distinctive to attribute to their sorry lives devoted to lovable losers. This sentiment has become all the clearer since the 2nd and 3rd biggest losers in the majors, the Red Sox and White Sox, have won back-to-back World Series, leaving the Cubs the only team more famous for its failures than successes. If I have to hear one more lame story about that damned goat or the antichrist Steve Bartman, I'll jump off the Hancock. I'll take the Curse of the Bambino and the Black Sox scandal any day.

Which brings me to the good news, the long-deserved success of the Cincinnati Bengals. Maligned for their terrible record and their obnoxious team colors, it finally seems as though they're playoff-bound for the first time in 15 years. But the behavior of their nouveau-riche fans is just as impressive. There is no Cub-like venom, no bitterness over the years of suffering, only joy, hope, and perspective. Unlike Cub fans, Bengal fans understand the two advantages of being a pessimist, as George F. Will (ironically, a Cub fan) once wrote: first, you're usually right, and second, you're delighted to be wrong. The Bengals have a tough road ahead to reach the Super Bowl in the face of the juggernaut Indianapolis Colts, but if they fail, no one in Cincinnati is going to cry about a goat or speak unspeakables about one of their own fans who happened to catch an errant foul ball without thinking. They're going to say, "This year was incredible, and we'll do even better next year." That is the distinctively Midwestern optimistic pessimism that I grew up with, and long to feel again. No offense, Chicago, but you belong on the East Coast.

How's that for diversity?

Category:

• Nati
• Sports
• Society