CHICAGO. When Chicago native Robert Francis Prevost was elected Pope on May 8, 2025, many thought it would burnish the image of a city long tarnished by a high murder rate and political corruption. “It’s the biggest thing to happen to us since Chicago–the band, not the municipality–was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame,” says Mort Kleinwort, who edits a weekly entertainment newsletter for visiting conventioneers. “But wouldn’t you know we’d screw it up somehow.”
“Upon further review, the runner is sentenced to burn in Purgatory until the end of time.”
Kleinwort is referring to the decision by fans of the Chicago Cubs–the National League baseball team that plays on the city’s North Side–to elect an “anti-pope” to counter what they view as undue favoritism by Pope Leo XIV for the Chicago White Sox, the American League franchise that plays on the South Side. “He hasn’t done squat for us,” says Mike Adamik, a third-generation descendant of Polish immigrants as he drinks a Special Export brand beer in Numb Nuts Tavern on Division Street. “He could make the Sox play without a designated hitter, which would be like penance for a venial sin, but he’s too busy gallivanting around the world blessing lepers or something frivolous like that.”
The Cubs are the more popular baseball franchise in the city, as stoners are allowed to smoke marijuana in the bleachers of tradition-rich Wrigley Field, known as “The Friendly Confines.” The White Sox, by contrast, play in a stadium that frequently changes its name to distance itself from the team, having gone by “New Comiskey Park,” “U.S. Cellular Field,” and “Guaranteed Rate Field” before settling like a dog circling a rug on “Rate Field.” “Rate what?” scoffs Cubs fan Liam Hendricks, whose senior project at nearby Northwestern University asserts that Cubs fans have higher intellects, better-smelling breath, and more vinyl records than their South Side counterparts. “I’m not saying they’re dumb,” he cautions this reporter, “but numerous studies have demonstrated a link between low I.Q., lack of self-control and a propensity for violence.”
“Get him–he’s from Kansas City!”
Hendricks is alluding to a 2002 incident in which a 34-year-old man and his 15-year-old son attacked the Kansas City Royals’ Tom Gamboa during a White Sox home game, causing the first base coach to suffer permanent hearing loss. That attack was followed by another game between the two teams on April 23, 2003, at which four Sox fans ran onto the field and tackled first-base umpire Las Diaz. “I don’t know what it is about Kansas City,” said long-time South Side resident Oren Warsh. “Do they think they can come up here to the Hog Butcher of the World, all corn-fed and smiley, and not suffer the consequences?”
In order to elect an anti-pope, Cubs fans must first “go into schism” at the McCormick Place Convention Center on Chicago’s lakefront and deliberate while fraternal orders and trade groups hold meetings around them. Kielbasa smoke from a griddle in the complex’s food court signals that deliberations are continuing, while fumes from a “Chicago-style” hot dog with mustard, relish, onions, tomato wedges, a dill pickle, peppers, and celery salt indicate either that a new pontiff has been chosen or that a delivery of produce has spoiled.