I like baseball. No, I love baseball. There is something about the rhythm and cadence of the game that I find intox - icating. The ebb and flow of the action, the smell of fresh cut grass and old leather, the crack of a ball as it meets the bat, even the crunch of peanut shells under foot at the ballpark, these things, and more, have always attracted me to the sport.
My love affair with baseball began in elementary school. From the early days of spring, until school let out for the summer, my friends and I spent every recess furiously engaged in America’s favorite pastime.
When school was out, while spending most of my time repairing and re-building bicycles in the outdoor shop behind our house, I remember listening to Vin Scully broadcast Dodger games to the neighborhood (Mrs. Wil liams, who lived up the street, had her radio positioned next to an outdoor PA system so she could hear games when she worked outside – we all got to listen). Fast forward to today… I still love baseball, and I have one child, my youngest daughter, who feels the same way. We root for a number of teams. Our beloved Texas Rangers are at the top of the list. We also have a soft spot for those bearded boys from Boston, the Red Sox.
But there is one other team that has sparked affection and loyalty in our household, and that is the Chicago Cubs.
I have been a closet Cubs fan for years, going back to when I had the opportunity to visit Chicago as a young man. The highlight of that trip was a visit to Wrigley Field to en joy a game one July afternoon in 1987.
For those uninitiated into the hallowed truths of baseball legend, you should know that Wrigley Field (named for William Wrigley of chewing gum fame) is one of the oldest ballparks in America. Built in 1914, it is second only to Fen way Park in Boston.
Enjoying a game at Wrig ley is like going back in time. Much is the same there as it was when our grandfathers were boys. The hand operated scoreboard and the ivy-covered walls all take you back to a better time in America when baseball brought us together and helped make us great (before we started playing soccer).
One day my daughter and I were talking baseball, and I mentioned that a goal of mine was to take her to Chicago to see a game at Wrigley Field.
Not long after that, amazingly, we had our opportunity.
I received free tickets (promotional giveaway from a company I worked with) for two games at Wrigley Field (Cubs against the dreaded San Francisco Giants). Needless to say, we were excited and quickly started making plans for a road trip (more fun than flying).
Since we would be driving through much of the Midwest (Texas to Chicago), we decided to make some meaningful stops along the way. The complete chronicle of our ad- ventures would fill a book per haps, for we had fun and saw much, but for now I must keep this story short.
After multiple stops, day four on the road found us in Chicago in time for the Cubs night game against the Giants.
We had box seats, overlooking the first base line. The game was great, if a bit cold, with a biting wind coming off Lake Michigan to the east (some enjoyed hot chocolate and coffee with their hot dogs that night).
Cubs beat the Giants, 5-4.
The next day our game start- ed at 1:30, which gave us time to enjoy Chicago-style stuffed pizza for lunch (best pizza on Earth!). Our afternoon game was terrific. Wrigley Field was as glorious as ever.
The ivy-covered outfield walls glistened in the sun, and you could just smell baseball history everywhere. And the Cubs spanked the Giants, 5-1.
Great game!
All too soon we found ourselves back on the road, head- ed for home, our time at Wrig ley just a memory.
But we will always remember the special time we had together when we decided to go see a ball game…in Chicago.
We love baseball.
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