Park Tavern

On April 26, 2011, Chicago sports fans hunkered down in area sports bars and geared up for a perfect storm of spectatorship. The lights were on at Wrigley Field, and the Sox were in New York hoping to outscore the love-to-hate Yankees. Even more pressing were the Bulls and Hawks games—each team was preparing for a first-round postseason match-up. It was a night that gave fans, whether because of out-of-town games or impossible-to-get tickets, a reason to be thankful for their favorite sports bars.

In the midst of Ohio State’s 20-plus game winning streak, we sent our writer (an OSU grad) to McGee’s Tavern & Grille (950 W. Webster Ave.) in Lincoln Park on a November Saturday morning to watch the Buckeyes battle the Illini. From this report, he dispatched a list of reasons why McGee’s in the best Ohio State alumni bar in Chicago. Watch them there for the regular season’s final game against Michigan on Saturday, November 30, at 11 a.m. 1. The call-and-response. Throw out a rousing “O-H,” and you’re guaranteed to get a return “I-O.” You’ll be welcomed instantly. 2. Scarlet and gray everywhere. Speaking of which, wear scarlet and gray if you want to fit in (maize and blue if you want to be shunned, a Kirk Herbstreit mask if you want to be loved, hated, and then driven from the state). 3. The 32-ounce, custom red plastic mugs filled with great, cheap American beer. The mug itself costs $2 (refills are $8), and it bears the school’s Block O logo. 4. The bone-rattling air horn. It blares every time Ohio State scores. Situated above the main bar in the front, it doesn’t appear any different from a fire truck’s horn. Even when bracing yourself all the way at the back of the house, the sheer volume startles. One can’t help but tense up in anticipation. Many cover their ears. When I was watching the Illinois game, the Buckeyes won 60-35. That’s nine blares from the air horn. 5. The confetti cannons. The bartenders shoot them off after touchdowns. When they do, be sure to cover up your mug, though expect to accidentally ingest several of the colorful, fibrous, Fruity Pebbles-ish strips. 6. The two-for-one O-bombs. The offer is announced over the loudspeaker every time Ohio State scores, and stands for 15 minutes. For the uninitiated, O-bombs are about as simple as drinks come: Red Bull mixed with Bacardi O. It’s not a shot, exactly—it’s probably about 3 ounces of liquid—but the idea is to throw it back like one so that you barely taste its signature citrus-y, chemical-y flavor. 7. “Hang on Sloopy.” The school’s adopted song since forever plays frequently over the loudspeaker. In fact, as I approached the bar from Webster Avenue, I could hear it playing down the block. It was a pleasant reminder of Saturdays back on campus. 8. The inflatable Brutus the Buckeye. He’s posted up just outside the front door, welcoming Buckeye faithful. 9. Tom Piazza. The owner of McGee’s opened the spot up in 1987, before Lincoln Park had become sanctuary for breakfast cafés and multimillion-dollar mansions. Tom says: “I’ve seen this area go from one of the most dangerous parts of Chicago to one of the nicest.” 10. Ohio State Alumni Club of Chicago. They hang out at the front door at McGee’s, which makes regular contributions to the alumni club, and just this year sponsored a tailgate in Evanston for the Northwestern game. “No bar does a better job or recreating that hometown feeling,” Ken Pietsch, the club’s Gamewatch Chair says as a guy slaps him on the shoulder in passing. “…[Alumni] love having a place to go where they can experience the same atmosphere as they would on campus.” 11. The breakfast burritos and thin-crust pizza. A breakfast burrito and omelet represent respectable weekend brunch options, but they appear nowhere near as popular as the thin-crust pizzas. 12. A crowd. When I was in attendance, the bar was packed by 11:30 a.m. For a game against Illinois. 13. "Carmen, Ohio." The ritual singing of this song is a scene any Buckeye relishes: strangers bonded by mutual experience, their arms draped over each other’s shoulders, singing the final stanza: How firm thy friendship…O-HI-O! Photo credit: Greg Kester, Groupon

Although I’ve generally given up pre-9 a.m. beers, as I walked Chicago’s chilly, leaf-strewn streets on a fall Saturday morning to watch an Iowa football game, I still had the ingrained reflexes to quietly boo a passerby wearing an Ohio State sweater. My rowdiest days are behind me, so I didn’t relish the idea of visiting a standing-room-only bar to watch the Iowa–Ohio State football game. That’s how I found myself at Jack & Ginger’s (2048 W. Armitage Ave.). The place is ideal for quiet, fervent spectators. It’s far from the other 10 Hawkeye outposts scattered around some invisible epicenter in Wrigleyville. As I walked up to the bar, I saw that the bar’s excellent patio—usually filled with bored-looking dogs next to Old Gold–wearing patrons playing bags or darts—was deserted in favor of the warm tables and cool drinks inside the bar. There, the year-round Christmas lights glinted off the numerous TVs, which at that time were being mournfully watched by a pair of Syracuse fans. As I looked at the score—0 to 56, and not in Syracuse’s favor—I understood their pain and grabbed a beer to commiserate. On most game days, the bar keeps it simple with cheap cans of Milwaukee-brewed beers and $1 sliders, though I hear tell that it has on occasion served some form of Big-Ass Turkey Legs, a staple of tailgating in Iowa City. As I sipped my Hamm’s, I watched the last of the sad Syracuse fans leave, making room for the Iowa fans. The crowd skews a bit older, with most in their 30s. They’re more chatty than wild, and they manage to carry on conversations throughout the stop-and-go action of the game. That is, until the game gets interesting. Although Iowa started the game with a commanding and surprising lead, things started to unravel in the second quarter. The crowd yelled epithets at coach Kirk Ferentz, who, as always, maintained a bubblegum-smacking stoicism as he commanded his troops. As the Buckeyes tied up the score, an older man at the bar yelled words that shouldn’t be said in polite company and then gestured to the crowd as if welcoming them to join him in his four-letter tirade. The game started slipping away after that, with the ominous toots of the Ohio State marching band hailing our defeat. The Jack & Ginger’s crowd seemed to expect this, yet most people still kept eyes glued to the screen with the hope that we might still be the fourth-quarter comeback team I remember from my last year at Iowa. Even though the final score wasn’t in our favor, the crowd stayed jovial—or at least more lively than the departed Syracuse fans. That’s sort of the beauty of Jack & Ginger’s. I can enjoy the mania of football fanaticism but not feel like I have to be on my best funeral behavior if the game goes sour. And hey, for $20, I got to enjoy a day of drinking, snacking, and cheering with other Iowa expats. And there’s always the hope that the turkey legs will show up.