I have lived behind Wrigley Field for more than a year. The bleacher sign that reads “Chicago Cubs” only reads “Cicago Cubs” at night when the lights are illuminated.This has been the case ever since I moved to the neighborhood in February 2008.
The Cubs and Wrigley Field bring in millions of dollars a year, but yet, they have been unable to pay someone to repair the disfunctional signage. I wonder why?
I know it is a small change, and no one probably notices it that often, but it does cause an eye sore to those who live in the area.
Would the building management please change your lights.
Support, oppose
- April 8, 2009
I find it amusing that the people who so valiantly supported
President Barack Obama during his campaign are now the ones complaining about his actions as president. Some people are just never satisfied.
—Jennifer Nunez
Chicago
I have heard about these things, podcasts, as they are called, for the past year or so. I figured it was like a newscast; but I could listen to it at any time. Sounded pretty lame at the time. I never thought about it. I listened to a podcast this week. It was called the Rescue Me video podcast. It was pretty neat. I could watch something at whatever time I found conveinent just like DVR or something. Most podcasts are just audio, but the visual added in made it just that much better. Denis Leary is a funny guy, and I saw him at the Chicago Theater last weekend. I was happy to be able to hear some of the more funny moments on the podcast. It was like I was at the show all over again.
Podcasts aren’t as good as being there in person, but they bring people information and entertainment for free. And that, to me, is the best benifit.
I never thought about having to learn how to work a photo camera or a video camera when I decided to become a journalist. I thought that writing was all I would have to learn how to do. I was so wrong. As a journalist I need to know how to take good, clear, and unique photos; and I have to know how to upload, edit, and post to the web. I also need to know how to work a video camera, hold it still, how to ask questions on camera, and how to edit clips into one cohesive unit that will engage viewers and inform them all the same.
It is exhausting just thinking about it. Journalism is no longer getting the dry facts and jotting notes down in a notebook; it is in dept interviews, and constant visual accompaniment. Today’s average person doesn’t have the attention span to read 2,500 word stories, they need pictures and video to help tell the story so that they don’t have to read so much. They are busy people on the go.
I always thought that being in a relationship, having a boyfriend or husband, would be like floating on a cloud; laughter, flowers, holding hands and stealing kisses when no one was watching: that was when I was single.
Now, don’t get me wrong; being in a relationship is wonderfully pleasing. The hand holding, the kisses, the flowers, it’s all there; and the laughter too. But a relationship is a lot harder to manage than I initially thought. People’s flaws wiggle through the woodwork eventually and sometimes those imperfections can eat away at your soul. And, if you don’t communicate and work things out, the very thing that attracted you to this person is now the thing that drives you down right out of your mind; in a bad way.
I am not an expert when it comes to relationships. I have dated here and there, but until recently I have never had a serious relationship. I am new to it, so I may not be the best. I may not know when to shut up and let something go. My nature is to be consistent until what I want happen happens, or I drill it to the ground and it blows up in my face. I may take things too seriously and jump to conclusions that don’t exist.
Fights happen, people get angry, and things are said out of frustration. The key to fighting fiar is to communicate and respect each other’s opinions and feelings. Otherwise, it’s just a bunch of yelling and screaming for no reason at all; and no one wants to wake up the next morning with a soar throat and dry eyes for nothing. Do it for a reason; work things out. The difference between a relationship that works and one that fails is the effort in communicating. That, along with love is the simple recipe for relationship success.
Sticking together through baseball season
I am writing in response to a letter to the editor by Jennifer Nunez (“Baseball widows, unite,” Voice of the People, Feb. 28). Nunez writes that the oncoming storm of the Cubs season marks an uninvited separation between men and their significant others. While the Cubs and their games do occupy a large strip of time, and stretch over a grueling six-month (or more) schedule, by no means should she call the other half “the widowed.”
For thousands of men, the Cubs hold such a strong grip on our lives that, yes, during that time, our daily life changes. Major League Baseball Gamecast shows up on our computer screens during work. Bank accounts feel the weight of inflated ticket prices. WGN has more people watching it.
But for the masses of Cubs fans, this does not upset the general flow of life.
Yes, 60 games in a season is on the excessive side. Season-ticket holders stretch their relationships thin. But for the other 90 percent of Cubs fans, the change in our lifestyle only sways with final scores, injuries and questionable coaching decisions. Relationships don’t always strain throughout the season. Only the foolish hopefuls who hang their hats on “believing” let the Cubbie Blue filter through their blood enough to create widows out of wives.
While I love the Cubs and baseball above everything, I have survived through relationships with this addiction. The answer comes to compromise. Compromising time spent in the stadium. Compromising night games for night dates. Compromise.
But that goes both ways. Instead of wincing at post-game interviews, our women should learn the tidbits of baseball that make us love the game. They should share something instead of letting something break us apart. They should embrace the passion, not bash the deepest thread in many of our lives.
Oh, and girls love the Cubs too.
—Chris Lazzerini, Chicago
Another widow
Thank you to Jennifer Nunez for her “Baseball widows, unite” letter to the editor. I have been married for more than 25 years to the eternal Cubs fan she described. Our life is like the movie “Fever Pitch”!
I tell my friends every year that I am a widow to the Cubs for six months, but they think I am crazy, probably because their husbands/significant others are not that into baseball.
I am sending Nunez’s letter to all of them so now they can understand I am not an over-reacting female.
—Mary Beth Wolcott, Highwood
True love
Poor Jennifer Nunez. The lady doesn’t really understand that true Cubs fans suffer 24/7, 365 days per year. They epitomize the concept that “life is hard.” Her whole argument is a “girly man” view of the real commitment to a vigil that is long on agony and short on ecstasy.
That is the real mantra of Cubs rooters.
So who cares if brides have to work through Cubs spring and summer game schedules to plan weddings? And, frankly, if their husbands, boyfriends and significant others only focus on the North Side ballclub from March through September, why should their female counterparts complain? For my wife that trial and tribulation is a year-round affair.
This understanding of my ongoing commitment to Cubs futility, along with her ability to make a good cup of coffee and iron my shirts, is what true love is all about.
—Dean Dranias, Chicago
About 10 years ago, going to the local bars or catching a movie was considered hanging with your friends. Today, exchanging text messages via facebook or twitter, could be considered spending time with people. The social world has flipped upsidown. People date via facebook and myspace accounts and see eachother through photo updates and blog posts.
They also break-up via these social sites. There was a news story last year about a girl who broke-up with her boyfriend at a concert by changing her status on facebook to “single” from “in a relationship.”
People don’t even have the courtesy to talk to someone when they are right in front of them—although, I’d have to admit, that was kinda clever. Sounds like something I would do.
Social networking Web sites have created suspicions of cheating in a relationship. I admit that I check my boyfriends’ comments on myspace and facebook regularly—well not so much now than in the beginning. I even hacked into the email accounts to check those— I know I’m bad for doing it, but these sites create serious paranoia.
I’m not the only one though, I’ve heard of other women checking and visa versa. The internet, moreover, social sites, have created a whole new realm to cheat. It’s more secure than a phone, but less secure with openess to post comments viewable to anyone.
Social sites have also enabled me to connect with old friends from high school. I added at least five new “friends” to my list from school. It is great to get in contact with these people. Social sites have forever changed the way we communicate for the better and worse.
With the Cubs making it to the playoffs in 2007 and 2008, fans in Chicago are gearing up for a hopeful Cubs baseball season in 2009. Most would see this as an exciting time of hope and joy for those dedicated North Siders; however, to me it means another six months of desolation, another six months of always coming second to a baseball team and another six months of being invisible to my boyfriend.
Last fall the Tribune printed a handful of stories about brides postponing weddings and couples postponing vacations, all to enable their grooms and husbands and boyfriends to watch the Cubs’ assent into the holy grail of baseball, the World Series. Unfortunately for the Cubs and these women, the team exited the playoffs after losing three consecutive games—just as it did in 2007.
I feel for these poor women who have to rearrange their lives in order to accommodate for their fiancés’ and husbands’ obsession.
Why? Because I am one of them.
I am merely one of thousands of girlfriends and wives who lose our significant others six months out of the year (seven if they go into post-season play) due to Major League Baseball’s wild enchantment on our men.
We are the baseball widows of America.
Some of us accept our significant others’ outlandish passion for the Cubs; others fight the war over and over, battle after battle, only to lose in the end or be forced to raise the white flag and surrender.
These overly dedicated fans can never get enough of the Cubs no matter how they try. They sleep, eat, breathe and dream the Cubs. The legendary history of the club and more than 100 years of pain keep fans entertained and forever loyal.
My boyfriend went to more than 60 Cubs games last season—two of which were in Milwaukee, two in New York City, two in Los Angeles, one in San Diego and one in Cincinnati. Even our vacations were planned according to the Cubs’ schedule.
San Diego was nice, for the four hours I had to enjoy the city between games and travel time.
Los Angeles was exciting, for the one day out of four I was allotted to peruse Hollywood (although we had to be back at the hotel by 6 p.m. to catch the game on TV, of course).
When my boyfriend gets home from a game, he catches the post-game interviews and recaps on TV and radio, and then is sure to watch the news for more highlights, then switches to “Baseball Tonight” and finally “Sports Center.” If WGN replays a good game later that night, he is sure to catch it, if not tape it for future viewing.
But didn’t he just see the game live at Wrigley? Didn’t he see firsthand all of the hits and catches by his beloved Cubs? Why watch the same plays over and over?
Someone once told me that “your love for your favorite sports team will always come before a significant other because they have been there the longest.” What kind of ignorant idea is that?
Some of us have never been married, and yet we are widows. Our men have been seduced by the most dangerous vixen of all: baseball.
When everyone is dressed in Cubbie blue this spring, I will be wearing black, mourning the temporary death of my relationship with my significant other, like so many other baseball widows out there.
The other day, while reading the newspaper in Panera Bread, I overheard a group of three men discuss their girlfriends’ purse style. One man described a large overpowering bag of sorts. “She keeps her books in there, makeup, I just don’t get it.” The other retorted that his girl carried around a tiny wristlet with lip gloss, a camera and ID one night while out. He complained that he had to hold on to it the whole night, safely tucked in his pocket, of course. “I don’t get why she had to bring make up to the bar; she already put on a pound of that stuff before we left.”
Oh, men; how you will never understand the needs of a woman on the go!
