Running on Empty

I hate this time of year.

I always find myself torn and my attention pulled in too many different directions. Do I watch my struggling White Sox, who no longer have any chance of going anywhere? Or, do I watch the soon-to-be-struggling Bears, who I can, at this point, still hope to see go somewhere?

My heart is still with baseball in September. Maybe it is because, in all honesty, I just like baseball better. Although, it could be one last sad attempt to hold on to summer and not accept that fall and school have in fact begun.

Whatever it is, I never know where to focus my attention. I really could use a week of recovery in between seasons – a period of rest to reflect on the season and prepare myself for the next season to begin.

The transition of being badgered by Cubs fans for being a Sox fan to being badgered by Packers' fans for being a Bears' fan is a tough one. Either way, I end up on the bottom.

At least during football season I can depend on my fellow Chicagoans for emotional support. During baseball season I join a minority of White Sox fans that must constantly defend their faith in a team that, for whatever reason, has become the neglected stepchild of the Windy City. At least none of the Wisconsin folk mind that I'm a Sox fan. In fact they are generally in full support, since being a Sox fan means I hate the Cubs probably as much as they do.

It's not so easy during football season though. I have to mentally prepare myself for what is to come. How do I defend my support and devotion to a below par team?

Every September I seriously question my decision to go to school in Wisconsin. What was I thinking? Wisconsin is a dangerous place for a Bears fan during football season. Sometimes I worry that I need to fear for my life. The 90-mile drive home is extremely tempting those few Sundays when the Bears play the Packers.

It sounds pathetic, but then you've never watched a Packers' game with my roommate. The words that come out of her mouth astound me and I'm pretty sure one day my TV is going to end up with a big crack down the middle. You would fear for you life—not to mention your TV—if you were me.

Please excuse me while I prepare for the transition and as I prepare for the attacks I will soon face. Statistically, maybe their team is better. But how can I turn my back on a team that brought music into my life through the Super Bowl Shuffle?