Lovable Losers Literary Review

It’s May first and, in Chicago, that means that baseball season is in full swing. The unique thing about this year is that the Cubs are coming out of the gates swinging. They scored nineteen runs last night against Milwaukee and the entire lineup looks good. There’s a saying that you learn as a Cubs fan: Wait until next year. And every year we all hope that this year will be next year, although we’ve learned to temper our hopes with a healthy dose of cynicism.

It’s been one hundred years since the Cubs won the World Series. There’s a whole mythology that’s evolved about the reasons for that drought. Most of them involve Sam Sianis, the founder of the Billy Goat Tavern, and his goat. If you don’t already know the story, you can Google it; it’s interesting. Whether or not you believe in curses, it’s been a long, long time since the Cubs were world champions. It’s about time.

This year’s a watershed year for the Cubs in more ways than one. Their parent company, the Chicago Tribune, was bought by a Chicago investor last year. Sam Zell has made a lot of money in real estate but he’s out in territory he knows nothing about. He’s called the Grave Dancer because he likes to buy troubled companies at discount prices and make money breaking them apart; which is fine if you’re talking about a string of shopping malls or apartments. It’s not so acceptable when you start messing with a Chicago institution like the Cubs.

Zell wants to rename Wrigley Field. He wants to explore exploiting the historic stature of Wrigley to increase advertising revenue. Without spending a lot of time on the subject here, there are a lot of reasons that this is a bad idea. Since it’s obvious that common sense and good taste are not arguments that Mr. Zell appreciates, let’s look at the more practical – it won’t work. To find an example right in our own back yard, just look at the White Sox. The Sox tore down their historic Comiskey Park and erected a hulking suburban shopping mall in its place. Then they brought in a corporate sponsor who anointed the place U.S. Cellular Field, or The Cell. No one, and I mean no one calls it that, except the media who are forced to by their bosses.

The Sox won the World Series two years ago and they can’t get people to come to the games to save their lives. The Cell was build in a cold, sterile, calculated attempt to wring every cent of revenue out of the fans that attend the games, but the major problem is the fans don’t come. You can walk up to any game, any time and buy a ticket. Meanwhile, at Wrigley, the Cubs sell out every game. Why would anyone mess with that?

Yes, there are more complicated reasons that fan attendance doesn’t really mean that much in terms of overall team revenue. But the fact remains that the Cubs are one of the most passionately loved franchises in baseball and if you mess with that loyalty and the fundamental reasons for it, you risk alienating a huge number of people. I would hate to be the company that buys the naming rights to Wrigley Field. They say there’s no such thing as bad publicity but I think this might test that theory.

I’m writing about the Cubs and their fans today because a certain group of fans with a literary bent stumbled over my website and invited me to join them at their next reading, Wednesday, May seventh. The Lovable Losers – are a group of Chicago writers who formed to celebrate or mourn the Cubs one hundredth year without a World Series win. I’ll be reading a clumsy attempt at poetic satire that I wrote, the main subject of which will be the aforementioned Sam Zell. If you’re bored, you can read it at the end of this blog.

The Lovable Losers will meet once a month for the duration of the season and it looks to be a lot of fun. Or anyway it’s meeting at a local Mexican restaurant, El Jardin’s on Clark Street, a place famous for its margaritas, so fun will be had regardless of the quality of the work.

Writers and drinking go hand in hand. And writers know all about struggling against unlikely odds. The Cubs are looking great thus far, but it’s a long way and a lot of baseball until October.

If you’ve never been there, you need to visit Wrigley Field at least once in your life. And you’d better hurry before some genius destroys it forever. Going to a Cubs game is taking part in a long, historic tradition. Win or lose it’s a great way to spend an afternoon. We all root for the Cubs, but we temper our optimism with reality; don’t risk too much hope. After all, there’s always next year.

The Zell©
(With Apologies to Edgar Allen Poe)
Ric Hess

Hear the grumbling of the Zell
Old Sam Zell
What a world of bad news
His ascendency foretells
He’s leveraged our tomorrows
With all that cash he borrowed
Now the Cubbies are for sale
And we hear the manic wail
Of the men whose reason fails
When they jump to do the bidding of the
Zell Zell Zell Zell Zell Zell Zell
As they kiss up to the backside of the Zell

Watch him build a Jumbotron,
Samuel Zell
As he puts the Walmart logo
On the bleachers where we all go
For some beer and friendly banter
He’s the man who’d sell his mother
Or his sister or his brother
For some trinket or another
That would further line the pockets of the
Zell Zell Zell Zell Zell Zell Zell
That would bring another billion to the Zell

And what else becomes of Wrigley with the Zell?
Who will be the landlord
Of our beautiful green scoreboard
When fireworks shoot up into space
And Best Buy owns first base
With a clubhouse by Bill Gates
And a Cubbie’s pennant race
Brought to us by Sony
Or Oscar Mayer Baloney
And a perky Bud Beer pony
Who will trot around the basepaths owned by
Zell Zell Zell Zell Zell Zell Zell
Why he’ll even sell the horseshit, that’s the Zell

Who knows what will the end be for the Zell?
Who can know the story that the future holds to tell?
When he’s mortgaged every inch
And he finds he’s in a pinch
He’ll say, “Been nice to know ya”
Move the Cubs to Arizona
Take the corner that we all know
Build the Wrigley Field Condos
Then a keening funeral knell
Will replace the magic spell
When the Cubs are forced to sell;
Do you smell that sulfur smell?
He has to dance a little faster
For the one he calls his master,
You’ve earned a special place in hell
Samuel Zell Zell Zell Zell Zell Zell Zell
Keep your mitts off Wrigley Field
Mr. Zell

Ric Hess, 2008
All Rights Reserved

— Ric Hess, May 1, 12:31 PM

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