BRAINY SPORTS #2
Forty four degrees at O’Hare, thirty-four in section 533, row four, seat 104 at Wrigley. It’s not so much windy as it is a steady, pneumonia-inducing breeze battering all of your receptors. You forget there are rows this high up when the ballpark is a handsome two-inch by two-inch multicolored chart on the computer screen at your office.
Taking the pony to the trough before the first pitch is thrown is bad news indeed. Line ’em up, boys, and no peeking! Then hats off as you come up the ramp. Somehow the cheering through the anthem hasn’t made its way north from the Madhouse on Madison yet. You really only fall on one end of the spectrum or the other regarding that tradition.
Five days prior, Jake Arrieta threw his second career no-no, and a quickly strung highlight reel briefly thaws the non-capacity crowd. You can’t help but get the sense that fun is fun, but next time make it Game Seven, Jake.
Brew Crew tonight. I suppose it’s probably merriment as a Cubs fan to pick on the Brewers. It’s way deeper than baseball anyways. With more train service, Milwaukee could become a bedroom suburb of Chicago. ‘Yeah, and that way, Chicagoans could have more opportunities to come visit Milwaukee too!’ Oh…okay.
The smack talk is a stalemate…
She said ‘well at least the Cubs have won the World Series’ and I fired back ‘yeah, sixty years before the Brewers even existed’! I got her good, bro.
…They’re two overlooked little sisters to the Valedictorian Cardinals.
I don’t know what Nuveen is, but they definitely banked on the Cubs’ generation next righties putting it in the Waveland bleachers all summer long. The product placement is fantastic, and I feel like I need to wash my face or whatever it is they’re selling.
Top second and the hot chocolate man has already scurried past section 533 twice with an empty carrier. We’ll keep everybody posted on this fast-developing story of immense implications. And where the hell’s the Hot Toddy man on a day like this?
Once you’re a major leaguer, does a frozen bat still vibrate at contact like a downed power line in your hands? Man did us 120 pounders dread April baseball.
I refuse to be okay with all the beermen only carrying Budweiser products. St. Louis is your sworn enemy! You think people go to Yankee Stadium and order New England clam chowder? What happened to Old Style! John Candy, whom we assume is from Chicago, must be rolling in his grave.
If we got anything goin’ for us today it’s that the beer ain’t goin’ warm on us.
An-thony, Riz-zo! The last great hope for the Italian people in a sport once defined by row houses and stickball. He fits the bill. Prom King looks, home run hitter jersey number and the 500-foot stare. Went down swinging at least. First-ballot HOF circa 2037.
It’s a trip that Major League Baseball is being played in this nook. There’s probably enough ancient angles here that you could pretend it’s “[Insert 1920s Baseball Team Owner Name] Park” and make an inaccuracy-filled baseball movie about the life of Dizzy Dean or Pud Galvin. The unnecessary Bull Durham remake starring Colin Farrell will be shot entirely between home and first base at Wrigley.
Sure we kvetch, and we pray for rain before we leave the house. But what a huge coup it is when we actually sack up and brave this weather. Old Man Winter and Mother Nature standing at the door, all ‘where do you think you’re going?’
Section 533, dammit. The Confines. Get out the way. It’s late April and it’s pastime time. This is the year.
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