I’m standing in the middle of the happiest place on earth. Chicago’s streets are filled with pure joy and alcohol as this proud city gathers to celebrate the Chicago Blackhawks victory over the Boston Bruins to win the Stanley Cup. The voices are shouting louder… and louder….
“F**k The Heat! F**k The Heat! F**k The Heat!”
Let’s rewind the story back a few chapters. I’m sitting at home, like I do most Monday evenings. I plan on watching a little bit of hockey. This is a little out of the ordinary for me. I’m not much of a hockey guy.
It’s not hockey’s fault, I promise! I am just already into so many other things that there is very little time for hockey. I already love basketball and football and, sometimes, I get into baseball, golf, and tennis. I decided at some point I should say “wuddup” to my wife, so hockey took a back seat.
I work on Michigan Ave., though, so there was just no escaping the buzz surrounding the potential of the Blackhawks winning the Stanley Cup that night. It was my duty to watch hockey, so that’s exactly what I did (While doing a little bit of laundry. I’m not going to waist my WHOLE night).
The game wasn’t looking so good, as most people know. The Hawks were down 2-1 with 2 minutes remaining and, somehow, managed to pull off one of the most amazing things I’d ever seen in sports. They not only scored to tie the game, but scored again to win! I still can’t believe this, as I type.
I’m sitting there, celebrating while folding the bath towels when suddenly I see a clip of the famous “Wrigleyville” neighborhood/human zoo. It looked insane and couldn’t imagine being there.
Very quickly, a couple of my friends and I start texting things like “Should we go?” and “Screw it. We should go.”
I want you to keep in mind the last time I went out with this group. The three of us (all married) just went bar to bar asking if they had a Golden Tee. So… that’s us.
Bottom line is, we wanted live like free men. Wrigleyville was only a quick 15 minutes away. I’ve never been in a sports town that won anything since I’ve been an adult. I had to see this. Done and done. I’ve got my raincoat on (smart move). I’m going. I’m meeting my friends. We are doing this!
We get there and we are immediately met by the Police Calvary, who weren’t letting anyone inside Wrigleyville. I was bummed for a split second before I turned and saw a group of people running through a dark alley. We followed because my mother always told me “Always follow groups of people running through dark alleys.” It turns out someone was letting people in the back door of their bar, which led to the front door… which led to Wrigleyville. We follow this path of sweat and thick air to the front of the bar.
Dreams accomplished. We made it and everything is happening around me. Vandalism, alcohol, dancing, drugs, senseless violence, singing, nudity and of coarse, near death experiences. It was everything I had ever hoped for.
The chants were my favorite part. Here were my favorite in order from normal to ridiculous:
– Let’s Go Hawks! (Makes sense.)
– We Got the Cup! (That we did!)
– Boston Sucks (We just beat them, so I get this.)
– USA ( I’m always ok with this)
– F**k You, Boston! (Alright. a little harsh, but sure)
– F**k the Police! (Not feeling this one, but it’s a party!)
“F**k the Heat!” (Whaaaat?)
And that stops me in my tracks. The Heat? Like, the Miami Heat? The team that just won the NBA title? Those guys? F**k those guys?
Let me remind everyone that this was a celebration of the Chicago Blackhawks winning the Stanley Cup. This had nothing to do with basketball or Miami or anything.
This chant led me to three different theories as to why this was being chanted.
1. LeBron is threatening Chicago’s hero.
I’ve made a strong vow that I will not compare Jordan and LeBron until LeBron’s career is at least close to being finished. At this point, there really is no need, but that doesn’t stop the majority of us from feeling the itch. I feel it ever-so-often. It feels so good, too… and every time LeBron screws up or royally succeeds, WE MUST COMPARE.
And guess what, Chicago? Someone’s inching closer and closer to being the best at a faster pace than Jordan and has no plans to take off to go play baseball. Yeah, Chicago feels this. Partner this with the fact that it’s LeBron that has been responsible for the Bulls’ demise year after year and all this Chicago hate is starting to make sense. Seeing the guy you hate so much threaten Chicago’s hero and his greatness as he’s beating you must sting pretty bad. It kinda makes you want to chant, doesn’t it?
2. Chicago hates literal Heat. (Go with it.)
To make me feel better about the people chanting “F**k the Heat”, I like to just put my head down and assume they literally mean actual “heat.” These people love their hockey and the heat usually means that summertime has arrived and hockey is almost over. This makes hockey fans sad, maybe?
Also, if you love hockey enough, you may be afraid of the possibility that too much heat will melt away your ice rinks and hockey shall be banished forever.
Yeah, that’s it.
3. LeBron is STILL incredibly hated by so many people.
Duh, right? Just yesterday, I read some tweet where someone asked if LeBron deserved to be hated. I thought, “Homie, please. Nobody really HATES LeBron.”
I was dead wrong about that. Tons of people hate LeBron, evidenced by the giant mob in the streets of Chicago chanting those words. I couldn’t believe that at a hockey celebration, in which Chicago proved it was the best at hockey, they still took the time to scream profanities about LeBron and his Heat. That’s a level of hate, I hope to never feel.
So let’s assume that this was directed at the Heat. What did LeBron have to say about all of this?
Well what did that Instagram link to? Probably a picture of him flipping off the camera!
Well, maybe they were just talking about the literal heat.