For as long as I can remember, I’ve bled good ‘ol Cubbie Blue. I love Chicago sports with my entire being — going to games downtown is a pastime I’ll cherish forever. In fact, to say there’s no city like Chicago is an understatement. So why, some may ask, did I choose to leave the Windy City when I embarked on my undergraduate career?
Though my heart lies in Chicago, I knew it was time for a change. I never truly saw myself going to school within a small radius of my hometown. There was so much out there I had yet to explore. I yearned for a taste of something new, and choosing Penn State would spark the kind of adventure I always dreamed about. But it’s not always easy.
I can count the number of times I’ve seen a Cubs hat around campus on one hand. My college friends don’t know what it’s like to go sing “Go, Cubs, Go!” at Wrigley field on a summer day. When I was at dinner with a friend last week, a guy sitting near us shot me a dirty look and said, “So now those stupid Cubs hats come out.” And Penn Staters certainly weren’t cheering when the Cubs shocked the world and scored a place in the 2016 World Series.
Penn State has become a beloved part of who I am, and I couldn’t be more proud to be a Nittany Lion. But it was times like this when I found myself wondering what it would’ve been like if I had just stayed a little closer to home. Why didn’t I go to the University of Illinois, where kids packed the bars in Champaign just to join together in watching their favorite team? Why didn’t I go to DePaul, where students live close enough to Wrigley Field to congregate and celebrate just outside of the field itself? Why didn’t I go to a school where the energy from a Cubs win would be electric?
When Penn State beat Ohio State in one of the biggest upsets in football history, the world around me changed. I’ll never forget the earthquake that was Beaver Stadium when Grant Haley ran back that blocked field goal to put the Nittany Lions in the lead. I can still feel my friends’ hands gripping mine when we realized we actually had a chance.
But Happy Valley didn’t rumble when the Cubs made it into the World Series for the first time since 1945. Kids didn’t take to the streets like they did during Penn State’s legendary football win. The Penn Staters in my life did, however, make a little extra effort to understand my love for my favorite team.
Whether it be investigating the history of the legendary “curse” for themselves or debating over which Cubs player would make the best husband, my friends got a kick out of learning more about a team that meant nothing to them just months before. Though they’d never come close to converting, the people around me took a new interest in something unfamiliar.
When the Cubs began to pave their way through the Playoffs, friends of mine chose to watch the game with me on those nights instead of making other plans. And though it wasn’t their own beloved team, they didn’t have to fake the intensity with which they stared at the screen waiting to see what would happen next.
When it came to the Cubs’ historic journey this year, my collegiate peers became the most unlikely audience with whom I shared that experience. And if I had the chance to go back and change things, there are countless reasons why I wouldn’t.
It’s because they broke down that wall. It’s because they put their virtual Cubs hats on, if only for a moment. It’s because they said, “I’m rooting for you tonight,” and they meant it. It’s because they were so truly, genuinely happy to fly the W simply because they knew how much it meant to me. And if that’s not a win, I don’t know what is.