Cubs vs. Reds: The Wrigley Experience

      ♫♪Do they still play the blues in Chicago? When baseball season rolls around/ When the snow melts away, Do the Cubbies still play in their ivy-covered burial ground/ When I was a boy, they were my pride and joy/ But now they only bring fatigue/ To the home of the brave, the land of the free, and the doormat of the National League♪♫

It all happened because of a pinky promise. A simple  cousin to the handshake, but the symbolic power behind it was enough to solidify a trip over the summer to Chicago for my friend Melissa and I. At first she had wanted to visit Boston, but in my stately logical terms I said “Nah, I’ve already been to Boston; let’s do Chicago!” She agreed, and we hopped on planes separately and met this past week on the Orange Line train late last Friday night in the heart of Chi-town.

                Now, I consider myself a good luck charm for pitchers, after sitting in Pac Bell Park for the Giant’s incredible no-no against the Padres a few weeks back, and now I just happened to be in Chicago for the White Sox’ perfect game.  (I’m assuming this luck will continue ‘til the Dodgers/Giants showdown, in which Lincecum will effortlessly shut down Los Angeles, but that’s another story).

I wasn’t at the ChiSox game unfortunately, but just the sheer aura of my presence within the Windy City’s walls was clearly enough to make Buehrle flawless in nine innings. Clearly.

                Melissa had purchased a couple of tickets to the Sunday game against the Reds, and we could not have asked for more glorious weather as we set out on the Red Line train to Addison (may I add, only two stops away from our place of residence for the trip).

Liss had gotten an official Cubs baseball cap the previous day, and made fun of my red and blue Chicago hat that I had gotten on sale- true, it wasn’t a Cubs hat, but any resident of the city would know I was donning the spirit of Wrigley. After dolling ourselves up in red and blue, we were ready to go.

                After snapping several pictures of the picturesque signage outside Wrigley, and after I wiped away my drool from sheer amazement at where I was (kidding) (but not really kidding) we headed inside moments before the first pitch. The kind, aged usher led us to our seats, which were absolutely amazing (thanks Meliss!) and we were greeted by two guys who commented to the usher, “You brought us a gift!” I smiled to myself as we took our seats.

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