This color of passion and ideology slowly seeps into the blood of many locals. Maybe there’s a few too many red shirts in the closet, or the eyes dart to the wrong part of the newspaper.

Yes, this love must remain a secret, whispered in private conversations and small social gatherings under the radar of the moral watchdogs. To yell out loud and proud would be social suicide, or at least the instigation of another “red scare.”

The community can’t deal with another one of those. Scares pop up occasionally, when times are rough in Chicago and turning red looks to be the greener grass on the other side of the fence. Wow, too much color in that sentence.

But on the backs of hard workers, as a group we will rise, throwing down the conventions of the present and beginning again. The current landscape sees a battle between north and south, with high emotion but too much gray area. Enough is enough & it is time for a change.

Yes, there is hope for us yet & its name is the St. Louis Cardinals.

Come on, give it a chance. Some say we only are good in theory, self-destructing when enacted (or when facing the Atlanta Braves or New York Mets). Those are the naysayers, and we shouldn’t listen to them anyway. They still wear Mark Grace Cubs jerseys.

About five hours southwest of here, Cardinal fans aren’t ashamed that their blood runs red. In the gateway country, enlightened minds discuss the classics, like Bob Gibson and Stan “The Man” Musial. When any mention of the blasphemous “Chicago Cubs” arises, everyone laughs. Just try snorting your drink while chanting “Lou Brock” at the same time, it’s quite funny.

A recent trip to that city only shed light on just how oppressive the blue and black environment has become. A quick perusal of the newspapers finds extensive explanations for woe, including pitching injuries and headcases. On the South Side, things are more rosy, but the men in black still are shoved down the public’s throats like popsicle sticks scratching an esophagus itch.

One constant between the two ideologies comes in devotion. Cardinal fans wear the red, fill the stands and treat Mark McGwire with immortal reverence. Cub fans love Wrigley Field and their “Cubbies,” ignoring third-base merry-go-rounds. One devotee named Sara even worshiped Rey Sanchez and Glenallen Hill, for Vance Law’s sake.

These conflicts even have seeped into the hallowed ground of family. While I was raised a Cardinal (Little Leaguers called me the white Ozzie Smith), my brothers liked the Cubs and Chicago White Sox. Nintendo battles were fought, as were wrestling matches. No one won, which was pretty apropos because none of the teams won in the early ’90s either.

But this isn’t the perfect system, we all know that. During that same time, I traded a Ryne “Rhyno” Sandberg rookie card for three Todd Zeille rookies. My credibility never has recovered.

I know these views are radical, and you’re probably citing the numerous instances where turning red turned out miserably. But there’s just enough room on the bandwagon for a few more converts.

When the Cubs are 16-games out at the All Star break, we’ll be well on our way to the World Series.

Don’t worry, I won’t gloat. My face just will be flushed red by pride, and probably with a few punches to the face.