Is raising your child to be a Cubs fan bad parenting?

As I made my way into Miller Park with my 13 year old brother at my side I thought one thing, "I really hope the Brewers win today." As of two years ago my little brother had no interest in the Brewers, or sports in general. That was until he attended his first game. He got Prince Fielder, the one player he had heard of at the time, to sign his baseball. That moment right there, a kind gesture by Prince, created a baseball fan for life. The Brewers just beat Chicago two days in a row, and I knew it was going to be hard to win a third. I hope for a Brewers victory every game I go to, but when my little brothers along I want it a little more. The excitement in his eyes when they capture a "W" is definitely worth the $15 to park, the $40 of tickets, the $7.50 beer, and the $6 lemonade(let me tell you that the lemonade does come with a "collectors" cup.)
After a hard fought game, and missed opportunities the Brewers fell two runs short. We were both a little bummed, but we had a good time.
This got me thinking, I have spent about 15 years of my life watching a team struggle to even make the playoffs, with a World Series not even in question. Then I thought, Cubs fans have waited over 100 years to be able to call themselves Champions of Baseball.
As we exited Miller Park and saw enough Cubs fans to make you feel sick to your stomach, I wondered how many of those little kids with their Sorriano jerseys on had no choice but to be a Cubs fan. Their parents raised them that way, and they don't know any better. They probably are not aware that their parents never saw them win a Championship, and their grandparents probably haven't either. Bad parenting? I think so. You wouldn't let your children play with fire, no of course not, they might burn themselves. You wouldn't let your children play near water without supervision, of course not, they may drown. You wouldn't let your children cheer for a baseball team that hasn't won a World Series in over 100 years, of course not... why would you wish decades of disappointment on your children?

M-E-S-S Mess, Mess, Mess

Last fall Green Bay Packer fans couldn't get their hands on a #4 Jets jersey soon enough. I'll admit it, I also found myself watching "the other team from New York." I grew up with Brett Favre. I knew one Packers quarterback. If anything I was happy for the whole situation. I now had two teams to watch and cheer for. The transition from Lambeau Field to Giants Stadium was a little more easy on me due to the similarity in color schemes. When looking at the television on a Sunday morning, with squinty eyes and a headache from whatever I did the night before, green and white looked very similar to green and gold. It was a good way to say goodbye to my childhood idol without having to say goodbye for good. It was very similar to those clean break-ups I've had with girls. The ones where you say, "Yes, lets still be friends." You talk for a few weeks, the talks turn to texts, the texts turn to maybe a Facebook message once a week, and in a few months you don't even remember her favorite color. Comparing ex-girlfriends and sports probably explains why most of my relationships have failed(I spend way too much time watching sports) but it seems to be a good analogy.
Now here is where the J-E-T-S turns into the M-E-S-S. It has been brought to my attention, and pretty much everyones attention, that Brett Favre doesn't want to officially retire. The latest rumors were saying that the Minnesota Vikings were interested. If I really wanted to I could go into a rant about how much I hate the idea of Brett Favre wearing purple. But I don't think it's really that necessary. I'll be the first one to say that Brett Favre was only bringing all this up because he knew people would talk about it. I do not want to be one of those people talking about it. But still, here I am, blogging about Brett Favre and his triumphant return to the football field. If he still thinks he can play football then I wish him well. But I'm sorry Brett, you've said your goodbyes too many times for me to get worked up again.
In five years maybe I will attend your Hall of Fame induction, but until then you're just a washed up QB who wanted to play for the.... Vikings!