Anyone who’s been to Logan Square’s hipster destination The Whistler wouldn’t expect the bar to have a Super Bowl party. But not so fast! The countrified Golden Horse Ranch Band has a monthly residency at the venue and February 6, Super Bowl Sunday, just happens to fall on one of the group’s dates. The solution? Broadcast the game from the stage while the band performs, and when the Bowl concludes, auction off the television. “The residency fell on the same day as the Super Bowl, but what can we do?” Jennifer Boeder, assistant at The Whistler, says. “We’re broadcasting it on a five-inch piece-of-crap television, from the stage. They’ll play, and play the game from the stage, and talk about the game and give updates. If you actually do care, you can kind of keep score, and if you don’t care, it’s a good alternate activity.” Leave it to The Whistler crew to even make the Super Bowl some kind of art piece.
Liars Club, Saturday night, frigid waves of gusty wind keep smokers indoors and the room itself relatively empty. A smattering of dancers shuffle to “Single Ladies” on the floor; something old, 1970s-tinted, is on the television mounted near the ceiling. The bar, dark as a cave as always, becomes paralyzed by new chills each time someone walks through the door, the unreal air having the advantage of surprise. DJ walks a tightrope between Jay-Z, Stones, Rick-fucking-Springfield. He wants to tell her that he loves her but the point is probably moot.
This is a weekend of moot points, as the NFL’s regular season comes to a close and only twelve teams advance to the postseason, the Chicago Bears not one of them. Last April, the Bears traded for Jay Cutler in what was easily one of the biggest and most ambitious deals the franchise ever made. Hopes soared to alarming levels: Would the team make the playoffs for the first time since its Super Bowl run in 2006? The Bears finished 7-9, the team’s worst record since 2004. For fans, disbelief turned to disappointment, which quickly deformed into distaste and resentment. This JC was no messiah, after all.
A familiar guitar note, a D chord. Tom Petty? “Well she was an American Girl…” Enthusiasts flood the floor and move and shake. The night united. An American song, an American bar, as American as cold beer and football. Even the losers get lucky some time. (Tom Lynch)
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Between Waveland and Pine Grove Avenues the far east side of Lakeview hides no fact that Chicago is a baseball town. In the New York high-rise familiar faces associated with Wrigley Field such as Alan Trammell and Ronnie Cedeno frequent the convenient store inside the building’s lobby. And this year they’ve been smiling all season.
But even on the North Side there are Sox fans. And we all had a great reason to finally wear a smile on our faces today, the morning after the Sox won the American League Central division.
I’m on my way to the bus stop, still riled up since last evening’s victory. Ahead of me an older man in a flannel robe walks his dog—I have seen him dozens of times over the past years—and he has a big grin on his face and a black Sox cap on.
“Did you see that game last night?” I can’t help to ask.
“I sure did. I was there,” he says.
The 145 pulls up to the bus stop but we keep up the conversation—the amazing plays from the game, how Junior’s throw to AJ at home was a game-saver, how Thome’s bazooka-blast of a homerun was monumental, how having Brian Anderson in centerfield in the ninth inning made all the difference with his game-winning diving catch.
The conversation continues with more baseball: the North Side, the South Side, the game of yesterday and the game of today. We talk stats, numbers, big plays, the ‘05 Series. I realize I’m talking to a true Sox fan who knows baseball.
A few minutes pass—I can see another bus approaching. Before I leave I introduce myself.
“We’ve been neighbors for a while,” I tell him, “I’ve seen you dozens of times and it is finally nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too. I’m Minnie,” he says. “I’m Minnie Minoso.”
Then he holds out his hand for a shake, a hand that belongs to a man who has his own statue inside the Cell. (Anthony Regan)
Billing your event as a way to escape nightlife is not an often-used marketing ploy. And, it’s hard to imagine such a shtick being very successful.
Zach and Kerry Maiorca, the creators of Midnight Yoga and the owners of the Bloom Yoga Studio, are, however, finding success with such a selling point. Their late night yoga workshop, touted as an alternative to barhopping, has been going strong for four years now, consistently gathering twenty-to-thirty people to its once-monthly classes.
“I kept coming back after first trying the class because it was such a relaxing way to start a weekend,” shares regular Veena Iyer. Sarah Pikcilingis also likes its weekend-improving effects. “After trying it the first time, I went hiking the next day and didn’t feel sore at all,” she says.
But is escape from Chicago nightlife really what keeps these late-night lotuses blooming (yogi-cally speaking)? Probably not. “We went to a bar first and then came here,” revealed Pikcilingis about herself and Iyer after Friday night’s class. Michelle Lingle displayed similar disregard for the class’ selling point. “Yeah, this class is a good alternative to going to bars but I think I am going to the bar next door right now,” she says.
Could it be that a pre-gaming (or post-gaming) with yoga trend is the real source of Midnight Yoga’s success? Unfortunately, other workshop attendees contradicted such a revolutionary conclusion. Ian Bonso confesses, “I just come for the free cheese.” (Meaghan Strickland)
In a sleek modern storefront on West Armitage, Coldplay and The Wallflowers play softly as fitness enthusiasts of all ages and sizes vibrate slowly on machines designed for cosmonauts. The Power Plate Institute is the only facility of its kind in America. Six days a week, at half-hour intervals, the Institute offers training sessions on its four Power Plates, each of which resembles a kind of generalized exercise machine without the moving parts. Posters on the wall proclaim dramatically, “It’s not a miracle. What it does for you is.”
Quick count: are there more stubbed-out cigarette butts outside Cicero Stadium, or more sleeve-tattoos inside?
The gymnasium, full up on plastic cups of beer and sausage-and-cheese slices, with stands packed from floor to ceiling, has reached an uncomfortable temperature. The Windy City Rollers season is nearing the playoffs—the undefeated Hell’s Belles are set to take on the reigning champions The Double Crossers, and in the first bout, The Fury fight the heavy underdog Manic Attackers. Elastica’s “Stutter” tumbles through the gym’s speakers. Then Metallica. Then Veruca Salt. It’s a mid-nineties meltdown until “Hey Ya” shakes the Polaroid. Read the rest of this entry »
There is nothing too superstitious for Cubs fans. The ESPN Zone’s Brian Hanover knows the pain of being a suffering Cubs fan in the centennial year without a World Series win, so in an effort to raise hopes, he’s asking all of Chicagoland’s centenarians to gather their spirits, their fondest Cubs memories and their walkers for a “Brunch and Watch” party for the Cubs game on April 13. “Ideally I would love to see generations of Cubs fans show up,” Hanover says. “You could conceivably have five or six generations of fans here.” The 100-year-old fans and their families will receive a free brunch and a forum to share their frustrations and adorations for the team. Hanover is not quite sure what to expect as far as attendance but he is looking forward to bringing fans of all ages and designs for an afternoon of mutual team spirit. “Who knows—we might find the oldest living Cubs fan here,” he hopes.
Almost everyone’s up in arms over Sam Zell’s recent comments about being open to selling the naming rights to Wrigley Field, including Lincoln Square Festa T-shirts’ owner Christopher Festa. The avid Cubs fan is fighting the name change and making some cash on the side with his “Keep it… Wrigley” T-shirt campaign, which launched from his shop last Friday. Festa has already sold a hundred shirts to Wrigley Field advocates like himself. “We just wanted to help people—the point of the shirt is that it’s not just a cool design and not just a cool slogan, it’s to help people show their loyalty and show their feelings,” Festa says. “I think this is really a special situation and if they leave it alone, it’ll make everyone more happy and prosperous in the long run…I think that the owners of the team—whoever they are now or in near future—are meddling with primeval forces that create the magic and aura of the Wrigley experience. They are alienating people on an emotional level for changing the name.”
By Tom Lynch
This year marks the 100th anniversary of the Cubs’ last World Series title. Herewith, a hundred reasons why the streak ends here.
North Siders need mercy from Sox fans’ badgering
The team must win before Wrigley Field is renamed Viagra Park
Won’t be able to handle embarrassment of playing home games at The Cell without having won
Weak division, yet again
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