A Day at the Beach

I woke up sad this morning.

The 90 degree heat, bright sun and clear skies made for an absolutely gorgeous day in the city, but I couldn't help thinking about my family cooking out and hanging on the beach in Maine... without me.

After a little pouting, I decided to join my roommates and head to Chicago's version of the beach: sand patches along Lake Michigan. I had never been, but was both excited and skeptical to see what is was all about. I knew it could never compare to the ocean, the waves or--no offense to my roommates--the company.

Perhaps it's the warm weather and the summer season in general that awakens massive amounts of nostalgia in me. Ever since I was a tyke, I've spent summers adventuring with my family, whether it was camping, trekking down to Pennsylvania in a motor home or spending long weekends up at the cottage in Maine. Days at the beach followed by afternoons sipping on seltzers and noshing on chips, waiting for the evening which would almost always involve a walk on the beach and a trip to Scoop Deck for a massive ice cream cone. Warm memories of clever conversation and comfortable moments of silence are often taken for granted. Now that I know I can't be sitting on that porch talking about nothing with my parents, it means everything.

As I lay on the sand working on my Irish tan (aka sunburn), in between thoughts of sunscreen application and worries of burning to a crisp, I thought fondly about my past but also tried to realize the privileges of my present. Sand is still sand (although it isn't as sticky here), and although this freshwater lake isn't the ocean, it does a good job filling in. As I looked down the beach and out to the water, I saw bright blue water for miles (with the occasional clump of floating seaweed dotting the plain) and people having fun. So why wasn't I joining them?

I decided that I would always have the memories of the ocean, and hopefully a week to spend up in Maine this summer with my family. In the meantime, I need to soak in my surroundings and enjoy being in one of the greatest cities in the world. For example: instead of having to drive through two states to get to the ocean, I only have to walk a mile and a half to get to the lakefront. I have ice cream in the freezer and cold beers in the fridge. And at the rate I talk to myself these days, I can have plenty of clever conversation.

But there will always be an increased amount of nostalgia to sadden me a bit every time the mercury starts rising on days like these. But I just have to remember how I handled today.

When I got home from the beach, I made myself a drink and called my family. Just because the body of water is different, doesn't mean everything else has to change.

Fire Drill

On Thursday, my sports writing class took a field trip to the Chicago Fire game to play sports reporters.

The Fire is the city's professional soccer team (MLS) and plays in a neighboring suburb. Thankfully one of my classmates drove so I didn't have to take the El to Midway airport and then hop on the shuttle to the stadium. Although it sounds like a lot of work to get to a soccer game, I think it's great that the team makes it convenient for car-less fans to get to the matches.

Seeing we got to the stadium early, the three of us decided to tailgate with some cupcakes another classmate brought along. We felt pret-ty cool wedged between fans tailgating with burgers and beer! We thought about trading our fourth cupcake for a beer.

After stuffing our faces with delicious desserts, we headed to the press area to take advantage of the night. My professor secured press access for the few of us who responded the quickest, including access to the post-game press conference and the locker rooms (although we never did get in there). There, we ate some real food before heading to our seats with the normal people.

Toyota Park is one of the few soccer specific stadiums in the country. There is no bad seat in the place and the close proximity to the players and the field add to the fan-friendly experience. The section behind one of the goals, the section next to us, was filled with fans who chanted and waved flags the entire match (yes, it was as annoying as it sounds).

The match ended in a 1-1 draw (which is soccer speak for tie), so the coach and the players weren't all that excited to speak with the press after the game. The mood was somber as we stood outside the locker rooms in the "mixed zone." I was a little disappointed that we couldn't get into the locker room, as I really wanted the full true reporter experience. However, because they had tied (and were acting like they had lost) and I didn't really have any good questions to ask about the technicalities of that evening's effort (mostly because I don't understand the details of the game yet), I was a little relieved.

Oh well, at least I got a cupcake out of the deal. Also, in my post-game research for my assignment/article, I discovered that the New England Revolution will be in town in August. I will definitely be in the crowd. As long as I can navigate my way to the shuttle and all.

Not So Tickled Pink

It seems I am going to need a new roommate. My current one has just informed me that she is in the market to buy a pink Blackhawks hat.

The only thing I hate more than pink sports apparel is overcooked zucchini and the Yankees.

I’m not talking about Breast Cancer Awareness hats. As someone who has lost family members to the disease, I would wear a pink ribbon hat in a second to support the cause. I am talking about pink baseball caps that have been mass produced by professional sports organizations in order to capitalize on the growing audience of fashion-seeking, bandwagon fans.

Pink hats, or any other type of pink sports apparel, scream “bandwagon fan.” Women who wear the stuff give off a vibe worse than a middle-aged man drinking alone in a bar dropping cheesy pick-up lines. Without saying a word, they shout “I don’t really care about this game but my boyfriend wanted me to come.” A pink hat or bedazzled jersey coupled with a pair of sky-high stilettos is a sports fan’s worst nightmare.

I can trace my disdain for blush colored baseball caps back to 2004, when the Boston Red Sox won their first World Series in 86 years and all of a sudden it was cool to be a Sox fan again. Subsequently, I stopped being able to get tickets to games and watched helplessly as pink hat fans flooded Fenway Park.

The same thing happened during the 2007-2008 basketball season when the Celtics introduced the Big Three (Boston signed Ray Allen and Kevin Garnett to complement Paul Pierce) and later won the NBA Championship. Now when I go to games my legs are cramped sitting in an overcrowded arena in scalped seats next to a girl in a pink Paul Pierce jersey texting on her phone.

In an effort to take region out of the equation—and to prove I’m not just drunk off a handle of Hater-ade— I asked my sports-loving friend Lisa from Dallas her thoughts on the issue. Thanks to Jessica Simpson—who supported her Dallas Cowboys quarterback beau Tony Romo by donning a pink jersey in 2007—Lisa also drowns in waves of pink hats at sporting events.

“It’s the only way to get some women to watch or go to sporting events,” she said. “In Dallas you can tell a woman is only going through the motions of liking sports if she is wearing a pink hat. To sum it up, pink is for posers.”

While I may hate pink hats and bandwagon fans, I loathe what they represent more (after all, someone had to think up the idea of a pink hat before women started wearing them). The pink hat may be one of the most glaring examples as to how much of a business baseball and sports in general have become. To some, it’s just a hat. To others, it’s a personification of owners and organizations sucking the purity out of America’s pastime. Teams will do anything—and sell anything— to make money.

As my soon-to-be-former roommate asked, “What’s wrong with pink hats? They’re still buying tickets and supporting the team.”

Therein lies the problem. No longer is it enough for teams to market the game and their players, but sports is now seen as much of a commodity as the pink hat itself. How else can you explain the $300 seats at the New Yankee Stadium? What blue-collared baseball fan can afford seats like that? Some games have even become giant social events (let’s hear it for 75 percent of the “fans” sitting in the bleachers at Wrigley Field).

Major league organizations might not care what they are selling or to who, as long as they are raking in the dough like autumn leaves. But real fans—like myself—have a problem with it.

The movement against pink hats may be at its largest in Boston (which explains my subtle opinion on this matter). We suffered through the losing seasons. I wore my green Celtics jersey and relaxed my legs across empty seats at games B.C. (Before Championship) and cheered on the Sox despite the alleged curse of Babe Ruth. Now that Boston teams are winning, the pink hats infiltrate the stands, soaking in the winning percentages and blissfully unaware of the heartache that used to fill their very same seats.

So I guess the real enemy is not pink, but green—the color of money and the hue of overcooked zucchini. Without this particular ‘green monster’ in modern sports, we might find ourselves pink hatless.

While I can’t control the influx of pink hats in modern sports, I can however make sure my apartment is quarantined from the epidemic. This is why my roommate will be evicted immediately should she dare follow through with her threat to purchase a pink Blackhawks cap.

Fanny packs, windbreakers, and leggings... oh my!

On Saturday, one of my classmates and I joined hundreds of people (most of who broke out the spandex, hi-tops and windbreakers) to remember the 80's and participate in Crawl Chicago's "Back to the Pub Crawl" event.

The pub crawl covered 6 bars in 8 hours. While we only made it halfway through (guess I can't party as well as I used to), it was a ton of fun and quite a sight to see. It also gave me a chance to rock my Larry Bird jersey (tied to the side of course) and a side pony tail that would make Stephanie Tanner laugh at me.

I took pictures for the Wrigleyville blog, for those who spent Saturday stuck in the 2010's. A picture really is worth a thousand words... check out the photo gallery here!

Ahh-ha Moments and Health Care Reform

It costs how much to stick that down my throat?!

At least that’s what I should have asked last November at my doctor’s office. It would have prevented me from suffering a lot of pain when the medical bills started arriving a few weeks later, in total adding up to over $1,000. But because on that day it hurt to even put on clothes and because it took every ounce of energy to even get to the doctor’s office, I just sat there and said “ahhh.”

Being sick or injured is painful enough, but having to watch your bank account’s bottom line dwindle as a result of inefficient health insurance only makes it worse. The bills bring back the chills… and the feelings of nausea, dizziness and the sudden need to lie down. But thankfully, there’s another bill that will hopefully help remedy the situation, kind of like how a good antibiotic cures an ear infection. The alleged prescription: President Barack Obama’s health care reform.

The new legislation—dubbed the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act— will soon start sweeping the nation in an attempt to clean up the American health care mess. The law is designed to help individuals like myself when it comes to health insurance. As an unemployed 27-year-old graduate student, I don’t qualify for the increased Medicaid benefits nor am I able to latch on to the amendment granting young adults coverage under their parents’ plans through the age of 26.

I guess I was a little naïve—even spoiled—after having consecutive jobs out of college that provided great health insurance. It didn’t take long to realize my current student plan was very different, costing more money for less coverage (read: for emergencies only). After two bouts with strep throat last November, I became aware of the disparity and in turn, more interested in any health care reform which offered affordable health care for all. But I was also skeptical.

I found that contrary to my original impression, there is a part of Obama’s health care law that caters to my demographic. One of the programs calls for the creation of health insurance exchanges for the uninsured, permitting them to seek and purchase health insurance plans designed to present an affordable and more competitive alternative to the individual and non-group insurance plans. In essence, access to insurance that provides more benefits and at a better price. The law also provides subsidies for people who purchase insurance through the exchanges, depending on the individual’s income level (which decrease as one climbs the income scale).

These new insurance options sound like great alternatives to having no insurance at all or an anorexic student plan. However, they’re not just options. Beginning in 2014, most individuals will be held to the responsibility of maintaining a minimum essential coverage or otherwise face a hefty fine ($95 or one percent of income in 2014, $325 or two percent of income in 2015 and $695 or 2.5 percent of income in 2016). This does not bode well for an unemployed grad student who might be forced to scrounge for pennies in sofa cushions in order to pay for this mandatory insurance. Seems like it might be cheaper to masquerade as a scofflaw in 2014 instead of a law-abiding and insured citizen.

Another stipulation regarding health care reform is that these new policies require the correct execution and stiff implementation in order for the intricate details to work as planned and for them to be the most beneficial. If proper attention is paid, the exchange system should help remedy an unemployed 27-year-old student’s health care ailments (both physical and financial).

But the 2010 status quo, and over the next few years, will remain unchanged. While the new health care bill might be able to help individuals in my situation, we are still cursed with investing in expensive yet limited insurance until President Obama’s plan takes effect in 2014.

And that’s only if all the pieces fall into place the way they are supposed to.

The new health care reform might work for me. But for the next four years, I’ll need to start asking before the doctor starts swabbing. Guess that’s what you call an “ahhh”- ha moment.

A Slice of (Pizza) Heaven

Last night, Dimitri Syrkin-Nikolau, managing partner of Ian's Pizza Wrigleyville, gave me and my co-RedEye Wrigleyville blogger Victoria a lesson in Pizza 101.

He showed us a behind-the-kitchen look at how each pizza is carefully made, and even let us try our hand at making two of our favorites: Mac 'N Cheese and S'mores!

Stretching the dough and making the crust is much more important than you would think, one mistake affects the entire process. Look at what a pro I became in a few short hours!

Although Victoria and I learned we'd rather leave the pizza-making to the professionals, we had a blast making our misshapen pizzas, and even more fun eating them! Read the entire post here.