When the Cubs voluntarily visited the Trump White House, I winced and carried on.

When the owner of the franchise that donated generously to my old school became the chairman of the Trump Victory Committee, I cringed and carried on.

 When Chicago’s beloved “lovable losers” hosted an event at Wrigley with prominent Republican donors and politicians, I ruminated and carried on.

When the team that put me through a cathartic experience in 2016 partnered with right-wing propagandist Sinclair Broadcasting, I contemplated leaving but carried on.

When the owners of my precious “Cubbies” tried to use dark money to influence an aldermanic election, I finally surrendered my loyalty to the Cubs.

Normally an owner’s political persuasion is irrelevant, but this is not a normal period of American history. One party fervently denies the existence of anthropogenic global warming. One party’s president considers Congressional subpoenas optional, said that there “were very fine people on both sides” of the Charlottesville rally, bowed down to the leader of a foreign adversary in a bilateral summit in Helsinki, and pulled out of the Paris Agreement. One party spoils our generation’s future with “trickle-down” economics and put a former coal lobbyist in charge of the Environmental Protection Agency. 

The Ricketts, in their unwavering support of Trump and the Republican Party, are indubitably complicit. They are complicit in the weakening of the Endangered Species Act, complicit in voter suppression, complicit in the widespread distrust of the free press, complicit in the separation of families in the Southern border, and complicit in the president’s dismissal of the FBI director who was investigating him. By buying tickets, Cubs fans are indirectly funding Trump’s reelection and, therefore, facilitating our government’s gradual shift toward tyranny.

I find it odd how, in the center of one of the most inclusive neighborhoods in the Midwest, sits a team owned by a GOP donor dedicated to reelecting a president who banned transgender patriots from serving in the military.

In my disgust, I found a Tribune article written by Eric Zorn about how recent events eased his loyalty shift to the White Sox, and I decided to give it a shot. Like Zorn, however, I had a difficult time moving on. The Cubs had given my previous school, Blaine Elementary, its beautiful turf field. Cubs stars frequently visited Blaine to recite the pledge of allegiance and meet their adoring fans. I had gone to Cubs game since I was four, and I’ll always remember my euphoric pilgrimage to Wrigley after the Cubs’ 2016 World Series victory.

But why wrestle with my conscience about supporting this team when another one plays nine miles south? Why give the Ricketts money when another team represents this beautiful city? Being a Cubs fan for years, I naturally claimed that I hated the White Sox. But how could you hate a struggling team in your own city? How could you hate a group of lovable underdogs, not unlike the “lovable losers” I’d supported on the North Side for so many years?

I don’t know if I will ever fully love the White Sox or if I won’t feel a slight trace of excitement when the Cubs win their next championship. I don’t know if I will ever truly stop hating Cubs’ rivals or not smile when Javier Baez no-look tags a Cardinals player at second base. But I do know that, until the Ricketts stop supporting a president with such blithe disregard for obeying the rule of law, I will no longer support the Chicago Cubs.