I grew up a sports fan. I did not follow my father’s favorite teams. I knew who I was going to follow and I have never wavered.  The Minnesota Vikings; University of Michigan; The Chicago Blackhawks; and my cross to bear, The Chicago Cubs – all with the highs and lows only true fans suffer.  The toughest thing as an adult sports fan is maintaining the youthful fervor of fanaticism. As the responsibilities of being an adult rule and guide our lives, we fall subject to the brutal reality that sports can no longer occupy the majority of this life. My sports heroes of yesteryear were not paid ridiculous sums of money and had to actually work jobs during their offseason from their respective sports. Disturbingly, todays athletes make embarrassingly huge amounts of money on the high end and at league minimums of 10 times what my heroes made.

Because of these enormous salaries, the cost of going to a sporting event is difficult and expensive. A family of four will easily spend $200.00 just to sit in the bleachers at a Cubs game and indulge in having some hot dogs, peanuts, sodas and beers. Tickets for the Wolverines in the Big House are $75.00 each; pro football is probably the most expensive. I do not blame the athlete. If I were in their shoes, I would negotiate for the most money I could get as well. The team owners have created situations that force them to raise ticket prices; from stadium upgrades or even brand new stadiums to gourmet restaurants and food served inside the stadium. It appears the sports of my youth have created an even larger chasm separating the fan from the player, their team and their sport. The difficulty lies in the fact that the common man can no longer afford sports hero worship. Even the peripheral memorabilia, jerseys, sweatshirts and caps are outrageously priced. Today’s sports have become the bastion of the upper middle class and the rich.

I want to go to Wrigley Field and watch my beloved, lovable losers play on a hot summer afternoon. I would love to cross off the Vikings winning the Super Bowl from my bucket list; and I’d cherish a national championship for my maize and blue.  I guess I will just have to do it from my rapidly depreciating flat screen smart tv and my over-priced cable package.  I know, wah wah wahn, I should go cry on my cable box. It sure seems there are much more difficult things in life, but I wish the youth of my fleeting memory wasn’t so nostalgic for my old jerseys, my trading cards and the heroes that were elevated by both.