Now before I lose every living soul on the northside of Chicago, I will qualify that I did attend a game with some friends to re-test my (then) theories about the phenomena we know as the “Hardcore Cubs Fan” (HFC), so don’t think I’m pulling this out of my ass. This isn’t to say I had a horrible time at the game. Far from, in fact. There were just too many things to bemoan to bump Cubs games into the regular event category. To make the visualization a bit clearer, you could equate the experience to a sub-mediocre one-night stand. More vividly, the one where you become instantly regretful and frighteningly sober from their south-of-the-border grooming ignorance, their “I-want-to-fuck-you-and-quite-possibly-puke-on-you-too” half crazed, half glazed over expression and perhaps most alarmingly, their Daughtry CD collection. Of course, it all starts out looking promising, but once you dig a little deeper, things get ugly. I’ll explain.

I was making the drive up from the NW ‘burbs around 2:30pm (I know this is a mistake, but I was coming from seeing a client, so I really didn’t have a choice), so I knew the all too familiar Chicago traffic would be dealing its wrath once I hit the highways. No big surprise there. I chose to forego the $6.50 (or whatever it was) shuttle option since I figured the ride back to the parking lot would be overrun by all the people you would regret having one-night stands with (which just so happens to be 90% of the stadium by the looks of them). I actually ended up needing some gas, so I pulled into a Shell station and popped a few bills into the tank. While I was maneuvering my way around the bee hive near my gas tank (don’t ask), I noticed a bunch of people parking and walking the extra 1.5 blocks to Wrigley. The attendant told me I could get an “easy out” spot for $30, so I obliged. Not really sure how an easy out spot involved me getting crammed against a wall and gangbanged from all directions by three other SUVs, but I guess that’s normal? Anyway, I digress.

En route to Wrigley, I ran into the myriad of fans that encompass Cub-dom. There were some, like myself, who went just to go and hang out with friends, people on work outings or with family and others slung on the arm of their S/O with their matching Cubs hoodies/jerseys/hats/panties/cell phone charms/etc. All of these things very normal. Acceptable. But along the way, you get a not-so-subtle preview of the hardcore fans. In the mind of a hardcore Cubs fan, the sheer drunkenness you possess before/during/and after the game directly reflects how 1) awesome you are and 2) how much you love the “cubbies”. Bonus points come from yelling random/unrecognizable shit at cars not moving anywhere and wearing carpenter jeans. Anyway this is all just on the way to the stadium.

Once I get there, the game starts up…we’re all hanging out…it’s cool. Somewhere into the 4th, we’re a couple beers in and we get up to grab some foot longs and nachos. Through all the eating, drinking and conversation, all of a sudden we’re standing for the 7th inning stretch and we’ve gone from winning to tied to losing. By this point, I decided to look around to put a face to all the HCF douchebags littering the bleachers. They are easy to spot amongst the crowd by virtue of their backwards hats, but also since they’ll be screaming literally anything “clever” that comes to their heads throughout the game. For example, an outfielder may have a last name “Jones”. The DB will proceed by saying, “Hey Jones…you fucking SUCK dude!” and high fives his DB-by-association-friend (who adds a very helpful, “Yeaaaaahhhh!” in a fratty frat sing-song). I know some people out there are like c’mon…they’re just being passionate for their team and talking shit for fun. Okay, fair. But I firmly believe yelling and talking shit should be reserved for exciting moments in a game – for which there are none in baseball. Honestly, I would bet that most players spit and eat 3 times faster than they actually play the sport so there’s no use in getting all hissy about it. So stop screaming shit and spilling beer all over my nachos. They were like $8.

Before we knew it, the game was over. We lost, but overall I had a great time spending time with friends and getting some good eats. It was relaxing – even with the obligatory “OMG THERE ARE SO MANY ASIANS AROUND US!” spiff. So what’s the problem?

First, the hardcore Cubs fan worships the team without fail. That’s the problem. Now it’s one thing to adorn yourself in team supportive paraphernalia. In fact I think you should if you’re a fan. And I’ll even excuse calling off of work to mentally prepare yourself to get mind-blastingly wasted for the game that night. Facebook it. Tweet that shit. It’s cool. It’s just that deep down beyond the layers of cubbie-blue cotton, fat and over-worked livers lies a misdirected, Daughtry-loving, jungle pubed man (or woman) on a one-way love affair. The sad thing about it is that I’m not even being harsh. The Cubs haven’t won shit in over 100 years. It’s not even funny…it’s fucking pathetic. Even the goat dude that “hexed” the Cubs back in the day is like “that shit was only for like 10 years max and I was fucking kidding.” But despite it all, every year is the year things will be different. Hardcore Cubs fans need to put some faith into something that will actually happen first. Like the second coming of Jesus. Or World War IV. Or their own death. And don’t tell me you bleed Blue and Red because that’s fucking impossible.

Secondly, the Cub is one of the least threatening mascots in the world. Next to the “Sox”. But at least the Sox win, so they can be whatever the fuck they want. Maybe Chicago should’ve avoided anything pertaining to Bears for mascots because it just never seems to work out right. When I think of Cubs, I think of fuzzy, fat teddy bears. And if the macho hardcore Cubs fan could stop chugging shit for a second, they’d realize they’ve got a fucking teddy bear on their shirt. Real tough. “Yeaaaaahhhh!”

Third, we’re so friggin’ bad that the owners resorted to gimmicks to change things up. It’s one thing to get phenomenal players from all over the world to help us. But when that doesn’t work, what do you do? You get some board game names MF-er like “Milton Bradley” or a dude named “The Riot” to distract hardcore Cub fans from the fact that we suck. No wonder our coach gets thrown out so much – I’d hate to be there too.

Honestly, with how emotional these HCFs get after the game you’d imagine they would keel over from a stroke or have killed themselves that night if it weren’t for their fantasy league discussion groups the next day. Speaking of which, what’s up with fantasy leagues? You can’t knock people who play Magic if you’re nerding it up in a fantasy baseball league. Nerd. Come to think of it, hardcore Cubs fans don’t have a right to criticize Bible pushers (or anyone really) because I’m pretty sure there have been more miracles than playoff appearances in the last 100 years. But back to fantasy baseball…is your life just that dull that you need a fantasy sport to keep it interesting? Have some fantasy sex or fantasy sandwich or something.

Anyway, as you may be able to perceive, I struggle with hardcore Cubs fans. If you can admit you go to Cubs games for a good time with friends, food and the ambience of Wrigley field, I totally get it. It’s a nice place to be. – especially if you pay no attention to the game itself. But if you’re out there believing the Cubs are going to finally bring one home this year, you make Tom Cruise look sane.

Anyway, just wanted to post up this new groove I came across on Ladylike…it’s ridiculously catchy. I’ve been listening/watching it while working on photos ever since I got back home and into post-production & catch-up mode. Check it out:

Man, I gotta say I’m pretty excited to hear more from Janelle Monae…she’s got a really cool look about her too. Okay that’s all…back to work. Happy humps.

Mannnnnn…I really want a pair of these. Anyone know if there are any Edwin retailers in Chicago? These are just way too cool to pass up. HELP!

For some really clever marketing.

There are tons of ways to describe Jean Michel Basquiat. I’ve always looked at him as the person that bridged street art -and high society. What he did for street style, is bigger than his art. I was just a pup when he died, wish i got to meet him. – Alexander Valdman

[Images via Caitlin Worthington]

C’mon son…get the f*ck out here with that. Who you think you are, Antonio Banderas or something son?

Too many good ones in this one to quote, haha