Wrigley Regulars
WRIGLEY REGULARS
Finding Community in the Bleachers
Holly Swyers
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS PRESS
Urbana, Chicago, and Springfield
2010 by the Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois
All rights reserved
Manufactured in the United States of America
1 2 3 4 5 c p 5 4 3 2 1
This book is printed on acid-free paper.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Swyers, Holly.
Wrigley regulars : finding community in the bleachers / by Holly Swyers.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-0-252-03550-0 (cloth : alk. paper) ISBN 978-0-252-07740-1 (pbk. : alk. paper)
1. Wrigley Field (Chicago, Ill.) 2. Chicago Cubs (Baseball team) 3. StadiumsSocial aspectsIllinoisChicago. 4. Communities. 5. Community life. I. Title.
GV416.I32S89 2010
796.357068773'11dc22 2009044158
Contents
Acknowledgments
A book like this is built with the help of an entire community. At various points in the past several years, many regulars have given their time and energy to this project, and even if they do not appear by name in the pages of this book, they are here, cheering, laughing, crying, sharing. This list is in no way comprehensive, but it reflects regulars who went out of their way to help me, who let me interview them, who read draft chapters and cheered me on when I struggled. They include:
Centerfield: Marv, Judy, Colleen, Bill, Bea, Jeff, Sue, Cyndi, Connie, Linda, Streamwood Linda, Fred, Sal, Howard, Norb, Richie, Fireman Tom, Tom, Tammy, Kathy, Jan, Bobby
Leftfield: Ron, Karen, Mary Ellen, Robyn, Jonathon, Ellen, Tim, Jim, Fred, Donna, Gary, Keith, Anthony, Stephanie, Ken, Jack, Joe
Rightfield: Al, Jeff, Howard, Phil, Linda, John, Billy, Mary Ellen, Cheryl, David, Mike, George, Uncle Mel
Everyfield: Mary, Jimmy, crowd control and concession workers at Wrigley
I want to give special mention to Connie from Centerfield, who passed away in January 2010. She will be missed.
Additional credit is due to Hayley Wolfcale, Ben Zarit, and Emilie Vrbancic, who gave a lot of time to checking readability and proofing later drafts. My thanks also go to the anonymous reviewers who went through two completely different drafts of this book and made it progressively better, and to Dave Zirin, who gave me a new title for the manuscript. I also owe a debt of gratitude to the editors and production and marketing staff at the University of Illinois Press, who worked patiently with me and did a great job getting this text from manuscript to finished book form.
Pregame
When I tell people I am doing a study of community in the Wrigley Field bleachers, I get knowing smiles. Usually, someone will remark, Uh huh, research, complete with finger quotes around the word research. Occasionally, Ill hear indignant mumbling about research dollars and crazy professors wasting time and money. Most people, though, will lean back and say, Okay, explain that one to me.
This skepticism has valid reasons. The lure of the corner of Clark and Addison, where Wrigley Field is located, is pretty clear in popular imagination in Chicago. There is the image of sunshine, tanned young bodies, cold beeran eternal party state reminiscent of frat house keggers. It hasnt always been this way, but it has been for enough of the last twenty years to cement the reputation of Wrigley Field and the neighborhood around it. Wrigleyville is perceived as a place to go to have fun, an entertainment district for the post-college, pre-marriage, predominantly white, professional class demographic. The word to describe it would be something along the lines of carnivalesque rather than community.
There is a much lauded residential neighborhood around the ballpark, distinct from the bar and restaurant scene, although its relationship to the Cubs is fraught. The ways in which this part of the neighborhood is a community are most evident when residents are struggling against their famous baseball shrine, fighting for fewer night games, stricter parking rules, and more policing of unruly and drunken fans. Otherwise, the most striking element of the residential Wrigleyville area is obvious and accelerating gentrification, one of many frequently cited bugaboos of urban community.
Some of my interlocutors assume, with some correctness, that I am talking about die-hard fans. Cubs fans are notorious for their devotion to their lovable losers, and whether that devotion is seen as quasi-religious or sadly delusional depends more on the observer than any other factor. Many of these fans treat Wrigley Field as a site of pilgrimage, which brings them into occasional conflict with both the party set and the residents. At the end of the day, though, the die-hard fan does not require a community to validate his or her love of the Cubs. Nor does loving the Cubs automatically create a sense of community in the way that most Americans seem to mean it, imbued with nostalgia for kinder, gentler days from the misty past. Socially speaking, loving a sports team at best lends a lubricant to introductions and business luncheons, providing a topic of conversation that is relatively safe for comparative strangers.
Nonetheless, loving the Cubs can become the baseline for community, and that is exactly what we see among the bleacher regulars. These die-hard fans claim their piece of bleacher bench two hours before every home game, ready with heckles and cheers even during batting practice. They count one another among their closest friends and will say to anyone who asks, We are a community. This is the community I have studied.
By this point, the question could be fairly asked, What the heck is a community anyway? An argument could be made that it does not really matter what academics think community is; a person who experiences a community knows s/he is in one. Likewise, a case can be made that too much scholarly ink has been spilled over the question of community already. Countless movements on all sides of the political spectrum have mobilized around one definition of community or another, and almost invariably, community is treated as a cause, a site of potential or actual loss that must be shored up or empowered. This is as true of the American family values movement as it is of various anti-gentrification campaigns in major cities. Community has become a buzzword, as laden as freedom or patriotism and as relatively empty of content.
And yet, I propose to write about community.
Why bother?
The first answer is derived from the morass described above in politics. Contemporary world politics holds on to two strong, interrelated myths. The first is that industrialization and globalization are the enemies of community, and the fast-paced world of the twenty-first century has destroyed our abilities to connect with one another. The second is that any indigenous or disadvantaged group has the power of community over the forces that would exploit them. The problem with letting politics dictate how Americans think about community is that it encourages people to substitute an abstract