Death in the Second City

The mood is still -- silent.  Not a breath is taken without force.  Not a soul is able to find content under an otherwise brisk breeze, rejuvenating half-moon.  Yes, dear readers, the White Sox season is over and those who still have the ability to feel are holding back the tears, swallowing their emotions and drowning their sorrows at Jimbo's right now.

But I couldn't.

I have a hit blog to write.

And on this evening, with the mass exodus of black-clad Sox fans streaming out of U.S. Cellular field hand in hand, heads on shoulders, feet in mouths, my Southside neighborhood resembles a death train, complete with stunned silence peppered by the occasional Irish keeling.

If New York is the big apple, then Chicago is the big fat lady who takes up two seats on the crowded bus. 

Because that's exactly what the Cubs and Sox both did for the playoffs this season: take up space that could have otherwise been used by a more formidable competitor.  And believe me when I say that I make that statement with the most loving of hearts for my neighborhood Sox.  I wanted nothing more than to see them continue on; but at the end of the day, the grinderball game came to a grinding halt.

So now we Chicagoans are left to ask ourselves: How 'bout 'dem Bears?

Or: How 'bout 'dem Dems?

Or: How 'bout 'dem Hawks hockey?  Does anyone pay attention to hockey anymore?

The answer is: No.  Not if you have any dignity aren't from Detroit... which reminds me that things could always be worse.  We could all be Tigers fans.

So go ahead Cub fans... hate me.  You already do anyway.  But don't hate me 'cuz I'm right when I say the Second City is dead and we're lying in the same ditch together.

Peace,

Jeffy