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ChicagoSide
PODCAST: ChicagoSide’s Jonathan Eig Joins Slate’s “Hang Up and Listen”
By Jonathan Eig
Editor-in-Chief, ChicagoSide
What happens when Linsanity meets Irrational Eig-zuberance?
It’s Hang Up and Listen, the Slate podcast with my old pal Stefan Fatsis and my new best friend Josh Levin. We talk, of course, about Jeremy Lin. How does he compare to D-Rose? Listen for my indisputably correct answer. We also talk about some European sport called soccer. I’m pretty quiet for that part. But I rebound in the third period when it comes time to talk about the exciting state of sports journalism on the web.
Best part: After the rough intro, nobody calls me any names. (LISTEN HERE)
CASTING CALL: New Chicago Guy With No MLB Team For Month-Long Video Project
WHO: ChicagoSide is looking for a young, funny, Chicago newbie who has not yet chosen a favorite local baseball team. ChicagoSide—the city’s newest sports website—is here to help. You need to be:
- Funny. Really, really funny.
- Young-ish.
- Camera-comfortable, in front and behind. (editing skills a plus)
- A guy.
- Available March 1 through early April.
WHAT: Spend March 2012 getting poked, prodded and paraded around Chicago as we expose you to all this city and its ballclubs has to offer. You’ll film and write about your meetings with rabid fans, team-testings, street stunts, and more as you immerse yourself in Chicago baseball, culture and history. And beer. On Saturday, April 7, you’ll announce your Chicago baseball allegiance to the world.
WHERE & WHEN: Open auditions to be held:
Second City Training Center
1616 N. Wells Street, 4th floor
Chicago, IL 60614
-
Wednesday, Feb. 224:00-7:00pm
Room #407 -
Saturday Feb. 25
10:00am-1:00pm
Room #403
» E-MAIL chicagoside@gmail.com to confirm your audition. (You can also ask questions or send video testimonials preparing us for your audition.)
» BRING headshot + rez, or something else to identify your body and personal history.
» PREPARE a 30- to 60-second something that shows your personality and sports exposure.
My Kid Is A Football Genius. Please Don’t Tell Him.
By Jeff Ruby
I’m in an NFL pool with people from Pittsburgh. As a man with no real rooting interest, I exploited my advantage over the years, picking winners without emotional bias. (Note: I’ve been in Chicago for 15 years, not long enough to make me a Bears believer. Talk to me in another 15 years.) Meanwhile, week after week, my opponents slavishly chose the Steelers to cover the spread, even if it was 17 1/2 points, the Steelers were playing in Green Bay, and Roethlisberger had advanced gangrene in both feet. Won a little money here and there.
For whatever reason, though, my luck in the Pittsburgh Pool died the past couple years. Certain teams stymied me, like the Redskins, who always seemed to lose by three when they were favored, and win by three when they were underdogs. Goddamn Redskins.
Eventually, my impartiality eroded; my judgment clouded. Then the Steelers started covering the spread, so I started picking them, at which point they stopped. Goddamn Steelers.
So this season I turned over the pool to my 4-year-old son, Max. The kid
Michael Jordan Is A Jerk.
By Ben Strauss
“People look to their role models to be almost flawless and I guess I’m the closest thing to being viewed positively, very little being flawed in my life. It’s hard to live up to something like that, really harder than basketball. It’s really the biggest job I have.” — Michael Jordan, “The Jordan Rules”
For kids growing up in Chicago in the 1990s, Michael Jordan wasn’t a sports star or a super hero. He was possibility incarnate. When Jordan had the ball in the closing seconds of the fourth quarter—clock ticking down, tongue hanging out—he inspired such confidence that as if by osmosis our own lives became less daunting. As long as No. 23 took the last shot, book reports were writable, Brussels sprouts edible, and middle-school girls kissable.
Following each of the clinching games of the early ‘90s three-peat, I sprinted out my front door to see sparklers light up the parking lot down the street. And during the redux in the latter part of the decade, three more Grant Park celebrations weren’t prepubescent wonders, but certain and quantifiable proof that:
2011 Chicago Bears: All Thumbs
EDITOR’S NOTE: Starting April 1, ChicagoSide goes daily, bringing you the best Chicago sports journalism on the web, with dozens of the city’s top writers slugging it out for space. Until then, from time to time, we’ll give you a taste of what’s to come. Let us know what you think.
By Jim Coffman
Sir Isaac Newton once declared the anatomy of the human thumb fundamental proof of the existence of God. Too bad Newt never had to palm America’s favorite prolate spheroid—aka The Pigskin—drop three steps and rifle a strike to a streaking receiver. Bummer he never had to cradle the rock like a newborn while following a 350-pound blocker toward a game-changing touchdown.
If he had, he might have noted a few shortcomings in the structure of said digit. The thumb is short. The thumb is stubborn. The thumb is vulnerable. Such a righteous digit should not be so easily injured.
There is one particular thumb that, after being broken this fall, caused Chicago sports fans enough consternation to induce hysterical fits of googling: “broken thumb,” “thumb anatomy,” “thumb surgery + recovery,” and “NBA lockout.”
You know what happened next, even the part about how Kristin Cavallari could not, in fact, kiss it and make it better: L, L, L, L, L, W (against the Vikings.)
Bears GM Jerry Angelo, whose thumbs were, metaphorically, the ultimate determinants of the team’s failure or success, is the season’s primary casualty. Offensive Coordinator Martz was next, although he was spared a front-facing termination and allowed a philosophy-based resignation.
Where do we go from here? To find out, let’s go back to Nov. 20, 2011, a telling game that included some of the most encouraging—and unfortunate—plays of the season:
