The boys in action.

Sweet Home Chicago

"We're on a mission from God." - Elwood.

There is one thing in the city of Chicago that gets people going better than the news of never-happening lower taxes, or things actually working in the Springfield legislature, and that is city sports. It used to be basketball, football and baseball. Shit, people lost it when the White Sox won the series. And it was the White Sox!

And now hockey. Welcome back. The die-hards will tell you that it never left and that the assholes just jumped on the bandwagon. Maybe they did. But what a bandwagon!

As soon as I found out that the goal that Patrick Kane of the Chicago Blackhawks scored was official, my mind had melted. I couldn't believe that the team had actually won a cup named after a guy named "Stanley."

I knew that the city would celebrate right away. And my neighborhood wasn't any different. And while I adhere to the cynical notion that watching sports on television is pure bullshit that I also enjoy, that the fans are just a bunch of drunken assholes who are mean to girls and the ushers at the games ala "Show us your tits!," that the girls are actually willing to show those twins for the hell of it once expensive champagne shows up, I was quite psyched about the reality that the Blackhawks brought the Stanley Cup back to the city after all these years.



My first impulse was beer. Where is it? Or what about the cheap champagne? How can we celebrate this shit without the proper helping of alcohol? So I did what every other exultant fan would do, I went to the streets.

They were gathered by the masses by the time I got to the major intersection in my hood.

And by now, I don’t think that anyone is disappointed. The sports pages had a field day with covering the hockey team in and out, the words to the Fratelis’ “Chelsea Dagger,” and why Patrick Kane could drink on the parade tour bus despite the open liquor law because he was 21-years-old.

For me Kane’s winning shot meant one thing. “Where is my camera?” Out here on the Northwest Side of Chicago, getting people to riot takes a lot of work. Trust me, I tried. The Blackhawks winning was that final push that let the people free and wild that night.

And we all know how that parade turned out on June 11. Even if it wasn’t the 2 million estimated people who showed up to the rally, there sure as fuck was a lot of motherfuckers wearing red.

But that win during Game 6 showed some promise. Back before all hell broke loose in downtown.

This is Harlem and Belmont avenues.







However, despite the numerous championships that the town has won, Chicago folks know that that is an opportunity to act like, well, clowns. I think that this fan is wearing a clown nose.



Love the Chicago Blackhawks. Congratulations, boys.