ESPNChicago.com writer Scoop Jackson is spending this week trying to prove that when it comes to sports, there is no city like Chicago.
Day 5: Friday
You are not supposed to see your breath while watching a baseball game. Especially for a team that is 3-10 and down 4-0 in the first inning. I tried. I swear I did. But the sub-50 degree weather at Wrigley Field Friday (43 degrees according to my iPhone) was too much. I punked out.
I know this is “typical” mid-April Cubs weather in Chicago, but no one should have to sit in this type of cold weather and watch a pitcher (Chris Volstad) get batted around on before the first three outs of the game on a team that is returning home from a 1-5 road trip.
The Cubs aren’t worth it. Not in this type of cold. But I must be alone because it stayed packed at Wrigley. As it always does, damn near capacity. 37,000 people stayed, while I acted like I was from LA.
Why? Why does this city stand behind, care so much, care so deeply, unconditionally, obsessively for a team that year-after-year-after-year-after-decade lets them down religiously?
Thousands upon thousands of people freezing their REIs and Eddie Bauers off, drinking cold beer that’s not as cold as the temperature, watching the Cubs lose to a pitcher with the first name Homer.
I’ve tried to understand, but don’t. I tried talking to Cubs fans and have yet to hear an answer that doesn’t defy logic or reason. People standing on the corner of Sheffield and Addison, already writing this season off, already talking about “wait ‘til next year,” but still rushing to get inside and cheer the team on. To yet another loss.
The best news that came to Wrigley Friday was the news that Starlin Castro's criminal case was dropped. But by the time that news broke, I was long gone.
Maybe Sunday. The series against the Reds is three games and the St. Louis Cardinals arrive for three after that. That gives me six days to get a Cubs game in, six days for March’s mild weather to come back.
I’m not a diehard of a Cubs fan like that. If I was -- as my god brother used to tell me when we’d come out here on days like this back in the day -- then I’d be man enough to take it and the weather wouldn’t bother me.
“It’s all about the Cubs! It’s all about Wrigley!” he used to always say.
Friday wasn’t one of those days. Which is why I left and went to Ann Sather’s to get a hot cinnamon roll to warm myself up. Like I said, I punked out.