It would seem that The Fourteenth Leo has some clarification to make regarding his CV. Not about his papal bona fides, which we are neither fit nor inclined to judge. So far, he knows how to wave to people who like him, which is both something and maybe most of the actual job. The issue here is whether he grew up a Cubs fan, as originally reported, or whether he is, as his brother later told WGN News, a White Sox fan. He owes the world an answer, and that clarification better not be in Latin, or read out of some leather-bound book of ancient Hebrew—if the Pope has an opinion about DeWayne Wise, we’ll need to hear it in plain, nasally Chicagoan. Preferably while Archbishop of the 35th Avenue Diocese Harold Baines holds up a copy of the Sun-Times behind him.
It would not be unlike some surreptitious member of Big Cub, perhaps the shadowy Archbishop Bartman, to jump the gun on "Pope Durocher," as they doubtless would call him. But let's say that the former Bobby Prevost’s brother John is right. Let’s say that the man who is now the pope did grow up a White Sox fan, in a household with a Cubs fan mother and a Cardinals fan father. There would, in this case, be some signs of pre-papal equanimity in making that compromise choice between two arch-rivals, and picking the White Sox would also make sense given that meek-inheriting-the-earth lie. He could put that debate to rest for good by beginning his papacy by forgiving all the Black Sox and Arnold Rothstein, too. But we can only speculate on such matters.
But please don’t be judgy. This is our first Pope, he didn't know his childhood choices would be fodder for post-modern idiots, and besides, Francis started the papal sports grift with his Argentinian soccer fandom. Gotta meet the sinners where they hang, right?
Whatever the case, it is perfectly Chicago for there to be an immediate spat over the rights to the Pope's heart, if not his soul—the Cubs swiftly bragged that the new pope was a Cubs fan on the Wrigley Field marquee; the White Sox trolled them for it once the story changed. If Leo is not neck deep in Sox and Cubs swag by lunchtime today, the two marketing departments should be fired en masse and force-marched to Wisconsin, Paul Pierce-style, to become druids. This matters, dammit, if only so much, and only to people who are already deranged. Chicago as a whole can claim this new pope, and woe be unto any restaurant east of O'Hare that doesn't have a Leo Combo Pizza on the menu by the dinner seating. But only one of these two fan bases can win this thing outright.
Of course, this particular debate leaves out the Bears, Bulls, Blackhawks, Sky, and Stars, not to mention Northwestern and Loyola Chicago; it hasn’t been a whole day yet, but nobody has said anything about the new pope's deep affinity for Walter Payton, Bob Love, or Tony Esposito, and he had already beat feet to Peru for work before the WNBA or NWSL made their Chicago debuts. Presumably Sister Jean would have dropped a hint during the 2018 NCAA Tournament if she knew something might be up on the papal front, and surely neither Ohio State, Michigan, nor Penn State would allow Northwestern to get an NIL deal with the heavenly father. With all due respect to the powers of the papacy, omniscience and omnipotence only goes so far when you need a quarterback.
No, this is shaping up as a direct battle between the Rickettses and the Reinsdorfs, the Chicagoland version of the Borgias and Medicis. They must decide which is which, because the advantage historically is with the Medicis, who installed two popes named Leo on their own, but there will doubtless be a war between the North and South Sides to see who gets to be whom. Leos X and XI, as an aside, had papacies as undistinguished as the recent Sox; Leo X was described by Wikipedia as "fun-loving" and apparently bankrupted the Vatican, which was no mean feat even then; XI died less than four weeks after getting the gig. Numerous Cubs and White Sox teams have delivered similar performances, so there’s little to be gained here, forensically.
But we digress. We're talking about the future of sports in Chicago, and which set of otherwise unfulfilled fans will get to capitalize upon Leo's promotion from Catholicism's version of the International League. Given the way Chicago politics has always worked, we imagine a festival of robustly bribed aldermen claiming, "I remember when Bobby worked the manual scoreboard at Wrigley as a kid" and, "He actually played for the Sox under the name Dan Pasqua so his parents wouldn't find out." This is going to get dirty, kids, and not just because Pasqua is Italian for "Easter."
The fact that we are already being bombarded with stories backing both teams suggests that, barring a soul-baring testimonial from Bobby Pointy White Hat Himself—either detailed recollections of Bill Nahorodny's greatest defensive plays or a spirited defense of Leon Durham on that ground ball through his legs in the 1984 NLCS—we could also imagine any number of teams claiming this pope’s true allegiance. These include the Phillies (Villanova), Mariners (the fisher of men), Padres (obvious), Cardinals (yay Pope Dad!), and Angels (not even infinitesimally subtle). You might as well include the Athletics here because if John Fisher can't get Vegas to happen, he would absolutely entertain relocating to Vatican City, provided he can get the organization to demolish the Sistine Chapel for free so he can build an “entertainment district.” And now that someone has found a familial link to New Orleans, he could be into the Saints (the absolute most obvious), Pelicans, or LSU. If a King Cake Baby ends up in the Vatican manger, we'll know. The only team that has no chance here is the Rays, of course, because that's what they get for screwing around with that Devil thing back in the '90s.
All we need is a sign from the pope himself, and the first team that gets him to agree to throw out the first pitch on a Tuesday night against the Colorado Rockies will be the One True Team. Healing the sick, regardless of background, is part of the deal, right?
