Yesterday, I had a date with The Dad. We went to see the Cubs beat the pants off of the Cincinnati Reds at Wrigley Field. The Baby came with us and was alternately asleep on my lap and scared witless by thousands of screaming Cubs fans when they made a good play. Which, during this particular game, was quite often.
I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that this was my first Cubs game since returning to the City five years ago. But hey, I’ve been busy having and rearing babies, and despite the fact that baseball started out as a sport for the common people, Cubs tickets are (a) expensive and (b) hard to come by. I “won” these tickets in a silent auction that benefited the kids’ Mother’s Day Out co-operative program. In addition to this, I grew up on the south side (suburbs), so as a child, I defaulted to White Sox fandom, as Comiskey Park was much closer to our house and we therefore went to many Sox games. I was nearly 18 before I attended my first Cubs game – I still remember sitting in traffic on the Ike and craning my neck to see the field from the absolute last row/against the fence seats we had.
Before this game, my favorite thing about baseball was sitting in the sun, drinking beer and eating hot dogs and various other bad-for-you foods. I am not enough of a baseball fan to watch it on television. However, yesterday’s game was quite riveting. We had great seats — on the upper deck, just below and to the left of the announcers box. We were basically right behind home plate — and could see everything except pop flies to left field. The weather was not typically Chicago-in-August weather; instead, it was in the low 70s and overcast.
I also really enjoyed the all-stadium sing-along, “Take Me Out to the Ballgame,” a Harry Carey original. I think The Boy would love it. Maybe next year we will take him to his first Cubs game.