A Slice of Life: Cubs or Sox--A Seminal Decision at a Target Hat Rack

By Francis Davis  
     
I realized immediately it was one of the biggest decisions I would make about my son Sam’s future.  There I stood in Target in front of the boys hat rack, trying to decide what team’s baseball cap I should buy for my two-year-old son to keep the sun away as we spent the day at a water park in Omaha on one of those steamy Nebraska summer days.  My choice was not simple: Red Sox or Cubs.  I also knew that whatever hat I chose might be the team Sam would root for for the rest of his life. 

Now, a few years ago – before 2004 when the Red Sox won their first World Series in 86 years, breaking the supposed curse that had stricken the franchise since they sold Babe Ruth to the Yankees – the choice would have been redundant.  Loser A or Loser B--as the Cubs haven’t won a world championship since 1908.  One hundred and one years of pain and suffering versus 86.  What difference could it make? 

But all that changed when the Sox won in 2004 and then again in 2006, solidifying their position as one of the best franchises in baseball.  So my choice that day came down to a glittery winner versus a perennial loser.  And that’s an easy one, right?  This is America and America loves winners, right? 

Not so fast.  For one thing, this is also Nebraska and the Midwest is known for its toughness and endurance, and although the Cubs aren’t the Royals, it makes a whole lot more sense geographically to root for them than a team from the East Coast.
     
Okay, go with the Cubs, then?  Chances are they have to win one of these years. Right?  Plus, they play at Wrigley Field, a throwback stadium before throwback was trendy.  And Bill Murray loves them and they have all those cool guest singers for their famous seventh-inning stretch sing-along.  I couldn’t go wrong choosing the Cubs and all that tradition, could I?
     
But the Sox have their own traditions too – the green monster at Fenway, Yaz and Carlton Fisk waving that ball fair in Game Six of the 1975 World Series.  Also, my wife’s people are from Maine, so technically, Sam had bloodlines in Red Sox territory.
     
So there I stood in front of the hat rack, the sales clerks undoubtedly wondering why I was muttering to myself.  What’s a good father supposed to do? 
     
In the end, I chose the Cubs.
     
Maybe it’s because of the losing.  I’m a native Philadelphian – a city that’s as hard luck as they come – and Philadelphians seems to like it that way.  Until last year’s World Series when the Phillies finally won, no Philadelphia sports franchise had won anything since 1983 and though that’s a quarter century of letdown about which I can barely write, it’s also one I take a strange sense of pride in.
     
All this talk of losing gets me to thinking.  Maybe there’s something in the American zeitgeist that loves a loser – or at least an underdog.  We’re a country of underdogs, one that started as a band of rebels and perhaps there’s something in our bloodline that makes us want to root against the favorite. 
     
Anyhow, it made sense me.  I pulled the Cubs hat off the rack and positioned it on my son’s head, most likely dooming him to a lifetime of rooting for the Cubs.  And despite all my rationalization, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the little guy. 
     
Oh, well, I guess it could have worse – I could have chosen the Padres. 

Comments

[wendy-liondance]

"In the end, I chose the Cubs. "Good choice.