Most cities have a serious crush on their sports teams, and Chicago, obviously, is no different. As a way of fully assimilating into the North Chicago lifestyle, I did what any brat-eatin’ sports-lovin’ person would do (if that was me) – I attended a Cubs game, against the Phillies no less, in Wrigley Field.

My good company was Patrick, who I’m sure does in fact bleed Cubbie blue since he’s from Chicago, and of course, JGunn 1 and JGunn 2, like myself having been relocated to Chicago for a gig. After meeting at Goose Island Pub across the street, we made our way to … Wrigley Field.

Clearly I don’t really know anything about sports, but I have heard of Wrigley Field and the legend that it is. Having been to games in other cities in major sport complexes named Verizon or Clear Channel, or some other nonsense, it’s nice to be in an old ball park, no fancy lights, no frills, and really experience the game as it was meant to be. Because honestly, do most fans need the frills?

I’ve been to more Philly-teamed games than anything else, so of course I was torn – but mostly my fondness for them resides in the memories of going to games with my dadoo, him actually watching the game and me stalking the Phanatic, the green fraggle-rock like mascot. But seeing the bitterness and then slightly violent predictable exchanges of the Phillies fans, I’ve decided to go with my Lakeview roots, and become a Cubs fan. As Patrick pointed out as we left, they even make Cubs gear in Kelley green. I can get on board with any team that does that.