On Common Ground

My day started with a train ride from the Bloomington-Normal area, two towns in the heart of central Illinois. Even though we’re supposedly at war with our northern neighbors, there wasn’t a checkpoint, barricade, or wall preventing my son Jonathan and me from leaving Union Station on our arrival. We met my son-in-law, Jake, and his father, Dave, who reside just outside the city. Their Cubs apparel identified them as fans, and our plain shirts and pants reflected our neutrality in the contest we were there to see — the hometown team against the visiting Boston Red Sox. Still, nothing identified us as upstate or downstate.

We took the L to Wrigleyville, where we joined thousands of others lining up for the game. People of all shapes, sizes, and colors entered the ballpark. The only requirement for access was a ticket. The only apparent reds and blues were the crimson Bs of the Sox fans and the blues of the Cubby loyalists.

Jonathan and I have been to Wrigley before, but this was our first time sitting in the bleachers. Dave and Jake claim it is the best way to experience the game. Bleacher fans have a reputation for extreme behavior. However, even with the bench seats packed, the only thing extreme I witnessed all day was a love for the game.

A variety of people across a spectrum of age, race, and gender surrounded us, whose only real difference was which team they cheered or jeered. There was good-natured ribbing across American and National League lines, but team loyalties were respected and accepted. The accents of Bostonians and Chicagoans are foreign to each other. Although these distinct voices were raised in opposition, they didn’t ring with anger.

In our section, a young father sat with his two-year-old daughter. Toddlers, crowds, and confined spaces are a recipe for disaster. But Cubs and Sox fans alike gave him space, an occasional hand, and graciously accepted the little girl’s precocious antics. Dad’s hat and jersey identified him as a Cubs fan. The accent and shamrock tattoos of the older man beside him identified him as being from Boston. He was accompanied by his son, a young man old enough to drink. The two families began the afternoon as strangers, but by the time Chicago dad and daughter exited in the seventh inning, all four were exchanging handshakes and hugs.

The conversations I heard from the first pitch to the last were about stats, player salaries, and shared ownership gripes. As we left the park to the song “Go Cubs Go,” I even saw some Boston fans singing along. On the sidewalk, everyone peacefully moved off to cars, buses, trains, and bars. We took an L packed with people quieted by post-game fatigue to the train station and quietly left the city.

Robert McKee is an expert on the substance, structure, style, and principles of storytelling. McKee says a compelling story requires conflict. A struggle within individuals, between people, or among society. A compelling story also requires conflict resolution.

Society’s story doesn’t have to end with headlines and tales of uncrossable partisan chasms or a crippling cultural war. As 34,931 people showed three days before our nation celebrated its declaration of independence, people in conflict and competition can find common ground. Even if it is just the ground surrounding a baseball diamond.

Baseball was once dubbed “America’s pastime.” America, it’s past time to come together on common ground.

Originally published at https://www.joestrupek.com on July 27, 2022.