How to Give Birth (To A Sports Hatred)

My girlfriend and I were in one of the many Cubs stores in Chicago last weekend, and I walked up to the man working behind the counter with a question. Now keep in mind, this guy is the guy who can't wait to bring up the fact that he works at the Cubs store at the Water Tower in downtown Chicago any time he even remotely thinks the Cubs are being mentioned. If you start to tell a story involving your cousin, odds are he'll interrupt you because he thought you were going to say "Cubs", therefore buying him a split-second to intervene. I indulge him:

Me: "Got any Milton Bradley jerseys?"

Cute, right? I didn't really have anything, but for some reason I felt like popping off an innocent, Indiana-mall-guy-would-laugh-at-this joke.

This was a mistake. My attempt at humor was met by one of those "I'm intently staring at the wall behind your right shoulder (not giving you the time of day for that joke) but make no mistake about it, I think you're a prick" faces.

Said Face

Him: "Clever."

Now I did deserve that. The joke was lame, but at least it let him know I follow sports. My presence in a baseball store alone should have sufficed, but you just can't tell with these rascally Chicago Cubs fans. Then, my foot slipped from the balance beam:

Me: "I'm not from here. I hate the Cubs."

(Face still applicable)

No words spoken. He just stands behind his desk while I'm pretending to look at the old cards in the glass case. He walks over to a co-worker and says?

A) "Man, Cubs sure are looking good."

B) "Dude, I just don't know if we're gonna catch the Cards."

C) "Is Alfonso Soriano seriously the worst baseball player in the world now?"

D) "Curtis, you better get this fucking guy out of the store right now, or I'm going to get fired for what happens."

If you said D, you're a winner!

(Unlike the Cubs)