Cubs Territory—or How to Become a Cubs Fan
I had never seen a cockroach before I moved into my two-room garden studio near the Belmont El stop. Most of the long-legged girls who strutted past were boys. Alleys bore the transient tags of skirmishing gangs, the most frightening of which was the Insane Unknowns.
At that time, Wrigley Field lacked lights for nighttime games. The Cubs played only in the afternoons. As a college student, I had afternoons off. My boyfriend and I would walk the few blocks from my studio to the ballpark. After half an inning a sidewalk scalper accepted a few bucks. At the 7th-inning stretch, the bleacher doors opened wide. Students and other misfits could catch the end of the game and an Old Style buzz.
It was the Dark Ages for the Cubs. I learned about baseball while I witnessed one of the rare “almost!” seasons. Nonetheless, I caught the Cubs virus.
For the next 35 years, Wrigley Field remained my neighbor. I endured dozens of baseball seasons, and the Chicago Cubs burrowed into my heart. Alas, by the time the World Championship 2016 season changed the world, I had already left Chicago. Now I am back, a short CTA ride to Wrigley. I have my tickets for a few games, including arch rival the Cardinals on July 4. After that, I’ll see how the season goes. It’s the Cubs.
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Lake Michigan's Left Coast 