Whoo wee! The Democratic National Convention is in full stride! How about that Michelle Obama speech!?! Smart lady; but she didn’t say anything I (a card carrying Dem) hadn’t already heard, so I’m going to skip the commentary all together (just for today) and get right to what’s going on:
I’m an uncle!
Again, yes, my sisters are having kids like crazy. But let me tell you, dear readers, this child’s birth has much more at stake than usual. Depending on how you look at it, the impact of my young nephew’s entry into the world is paramount. You see, Caleb Ryan (that’s his name) is the son of my sister (a devout Cardinal fan) and my brother-in-law (a die hard Cub fan). Indeed, Caleb Ryan’s fandom future is of the utmost concern.
If he is to be a Cubs fan, he will offend his mother (not to mention me and the rest of our big, bad, Cardinal family).
If he is to be a Cardinals fan, he will offend his father (who could easily take me in a fight, not to mention the rest of his Cubby crew family who could also probably take me in a fight — each of them, one by one, until the end of time).
Caleb’s choice will not be easy. An entire genetic line awaits his decision. And so I cringe at what I feel is already the inevitable.
For his father is a Cubs fan and the father has the most influence in this decision, right?
My sister, though devoted in her Cardinal Nation following, still probably couldn’t name anyone on the team except Albert Pujols (because he’s Pujols) and Adam Wainwright (because according to her, he’s “super cute”).
On the other hand, my brother-in-law is a force of baseball trivia — a man who knows the game (and his team) inside and out — one who probably would never allow the birds-on-the-bat to be displayed across his young son’s chest.
After much consideration, I have come to the conclusion that I am, at last, okay with that. Because if my sister and her husband have proven anything during their four year marriage, it is that their relationship is the ultimate paragon of compromise: they give and take, stretch and lean, move in tandem up-and-down and side-to-side, always staying in tune with one another through thick and thin (and any other cheesy cliche you can think of). To put it in perspective, folks, their license plate reads: CUBNLS.
For this, they have my highest respect. So too does their child: Caleb Ryan.
And that, dear readers, until the end of time will always be worth more than any game, any city, any rivalry — ever.
I know it’s asking a lot of my new nephew, but I sure hope he doesn’t hate me… at least not ‘cuz I’m right.