I was born to a mixed household. My mother is a Cub’s fan and my father is a White Sox’s fan. As the first born child, there was a minor war waged for my allegiance. My baby photos are littered with images of me clothed in both teams’ gear, however I was too young to remember the battle for my baseball fandom soul. I do know the moment that the war ended. I was five years old and I went with my grandfather and my uncle to my first baseball game at Wrigley Field. I felt the energy in the concourse and caught the aroma of hot dogs and peanuts. My heart raced as we walked up the steps, and that was when my eyes set on the greenest grass that I’d ever seen. I have no idea, who won the game, but from that day on I was a Cubs fan.