Is ignorance of the law an excuse for crime? Do uncontrollable circumstances serve as a crutch for mistakes and wrong decisions? Is being a Cubs fan in St. Louis my fault?
Graphic by Matt Williams
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When Sammy Sosa hit a long fly-ball over the left field wall I screamed. When Aramis Ramirez carried the team into the playoffs I prayed to God. When baseball legend Joe Maddon took the reins as coach I heard a whisper. When a couple big-shot youngsters were brought up to play I began to feel it. The buzz before a winning season. The breeze off Lake Michigan, blowing in a new direction. Each night I lay my head down as a Chicago Cubs baseball fan. Each morning I get up and enjoy the city of their enemy. I work. I play. I eat. I nap. I dream. I do all of this in a completely different nation than that of the lovable-losers. Does this make me a hypocrite? Does it mean I have the wrong color of blood in my baseball-thumping veins? This simply means my two worlds come together in in an awkward, yet perfect way. When the Cubs come to St. Louis, I dust off my cap.
The Cubs are the team of my childhood. They also have a wild chance of winning the championship this year. This would end a century-old drought. The curse would be over. I could walk the town proudly. My blue shirt displayed boldly. Yes, baseball heaven has a team. A very good team at that. A team with Championship titles. A team with spirit. A team that is arguably the best in the most recent decade. But, the ivy-covered burial ground beckons my love. The Cubs demand my affection. From late night to grandpa, to begging for a Championship win. I will remain faithful to the Cubbies. I will hear the jokes Still, I will sing our infamous tune. Go Cubs Go.
Emma Tihen 
Madison Coumerilh 
Kaylee Ascher