I LIKE SPORTZ!

Being raised in an ultra-rural community in SouthEastern Idaho had its advantages.  For starters, the community pool (irrigation ditch) was open round the clock.  As you immersed yourself in the cool refreshing pesticide-ridden waters only later to burn yourself as you climbed onto your lopsided tractor tire inner-tube whose black rubbery surface had been baking in the sun, you often wondered, “What is that smell? Is this thing covered in engine grease?”   After that you’d wonder, “I wonder what’d be like to go to a professional sports game?”

You see, SouthEastern Idaho has never been the biggest draw for professional sports teams.  For some reason professional franchises didn’t understand that what we lacked in actual population we made up for in heart. 

Sure, we had baseball teams like the Pocatello Posse, but they were part of the MMLB, Minor Minor League Baseball.  In fact, I’m pretty sure they used potatoes for balls and that this was one of their star players:

Don't let the small frame deceive you, he could hit a spud all the way to Teton County.

The Idaho Falls Braves were actually a step up from the Pokey Posse. Believe it or not they were a legit Minor League baseball club.  Unfortunately they’ve had more name changes than P-Diddy and I’m not even sure they’re called the Braves anymore…they’re the Chukars? Really?  The Idaho Falls Chukars? What the hell is a Chukar? I wish I could have been a fly on the wall during that brainstorming session.

This just in: A Chukar is an Eurasian partridge (genus Alectoris) similar to the red-legged partridge, but with a call like a clucking domestic hen, native to the Rocky Mountains.

Don’t get me wrong. Idaho has its bright spots in the sporting universe.  Boise State? Yes, please.  And can I get a witness for the Snake River Pantherrrrrrrrrs?!!!!!!!!!

Ricks College had some sporting prowess until it subjected itself to heavenly inspiration and focused on silly willy academics.  ISU? Umm…let’s see…we wouldn’t have had the Holt Arena if it weren’t for you…where we'd cheer for the Snake River Pantherrrrrrrrrrs!!!!!!!!

But we’re not talking about College or Division A-2 High School sports teams here, that includes you Utah Jazz (zing!), we're talking about the big leagues.  Growing up, we Ruralings were given free range to select the professional sports teams that our potato-starch pumping hearts desired.  So what did I do?  I split my heart into mini-sports-fan horcruxes and devoted myself to the San Francisco 49ers, the Chicago Bulls (ironically), and Kevin Mitchell.  Baseball was a little trickier for me because, well, I don’t really like baseball, it’s kinda dumb.  So I clung to Kevin Mitchell like I was one of his illegitimate children.  And why did I do this?  Because he caught a ball with his bare hand, that’s why!  His bare freaking hand! And…that’s really all I knew/liked about him.

Alright, it’s time for this post to come to a head. (Who came up with that zit-based idiom? Every time someone uses it I inadvertently imagine a zit popping).  The reason I am writing is to hereby officially declare the City of Chicago and its affiliated professional sports teams as my own.  To show the seriousness if this commitment I invested (yes, invested) in an official hand stitched Dick Butkus Chicago Bears Throwback Jersey. When I suit up “The Butkus”, as it will now be known, may it be a shining symbol to my two boys, a rallying cry of sorts, that we are true Chicago Sports Fans.  And whenever Jay Cutler chokes, the Cubs fail to make the playoffs, or we collectively cringe as Carlos Boozer does that stupid scream when he bricks a shot, we will stand tall with our heads high and be grateful that we aren’t cheering for the Chukers, and that our inner professional sports fan has a place to call home.

Behold! "The Butkus"