The Cheap Seats of Wrigley

You went there in the off years and there were many. During the summer when the world was asleep and a hot dog and a beer and a breeze off the lake made you think you died and gone to heaven. And a lot of times you came in on SRO's and made your way down to the expensive seats. Nobody seemed to care because the Cubs hadn't won for a very long time and there were open seats. And still it didn't matter because you were in Wrigley and the ivy and the neighborhood and the peanuts and the guy selling beer were something out of a different time.

And then they started to win and the Billy Goat curse seemed to lift. Who knows if it was the reason they had lost all those years but it was a convenient scape goat. No pun intended. And the SROs went up in price and it became harder to get to the good seats. Celebrities started showing up. And ticket prices hit the thousands. Still the Mets stalled them and people cursed the goat and wondered again if 1908 was really it.

But then they came back and even at the end the curse seemed to come back. How could a team be two down in the World Series and come back and win in the other teams town? But they did. And even after they won you knew it was already in the history books. And maybe those old days of cheap seats and the easy walk down to the good seats are gone forever.  Eventually though the ticket prices will fall and the celebrities will go back to Hollywood and it will just be the beer guy and the peanuts and the breeze off the lake. 2016 will be the year people will look back to and say... that was when the Cubs Won The World Series!

Until next year. Go Cubs.

Madam President The Secret Presidency of Edith Wilson

Summer in Wrigleyville

It comes like that. Bang. Eighty five degrees and humid. And there is a game tonight and nobody has geared up for it yet. There is just that slowed time of the summer in the city. And you run across the street and its hard to believe there will be thousands of people in just a few hours. But right now it is just you and the old ball park and the workers and the people who hang around. Do you have a buck...no I don't.

And it isn't summer but it has dipped in for an early reminder after such a winter. That vacant feeling is already here and you are thinking about baseball and just goofing off for the day. But there is work to be done so you do it and now you are sweating like crazy. Too hot already? Not after this winter. Bring it on. But you are sweating. And so into the cool darkness of a coffee house.

And the cops are there. And some of the workers from the ball park. They are relaxing before it all begins. Wrigleyville is mostly just cold and empty during the winter. The bars and stores and the park have to make it during the season. Everything is focused around the game. The one event that gives everyone a purpose.

And then it's time. The slowed time is gone and soon there will be that singular cry...Play Ball! The season has begun again.

www.williamhazelgrove.com
The Pitcher

Wrigley Turns One Hundred 1914-2014

I was just there the other day dropping off copies of my book and I saw the banner. One Hundred Years Old. 1914-2014. Amazing. But of course that is the magic of the field. It belongs to another time. The ivy covered walls and the snug feel of the park and the view of the lake on a hot summer day with a hot dog and a beer and some peanuts and you are lost in time. The baseball game plays out and the moment slows and all that hurried stress of the twenty first century slithers away.

I lived four blocks West of Wrigley for about three years. My wife and I had rented an apartment on Wayne Street and on summer days you could hear the crowd roar like the surf of the ocean. And I took it for granted. Yeah Wrigley Field. Chicago. Wrigley Field. They just were the same to me. But when I moved further west and getting to a ballgame became trickier I really began to understand how unique Wrigley was.

They tore down Comiskey and put up Cellular Field for the Sox. It is a great place to watch a game with lots of space and parking and easy concessions. But there is something missing. Maybe it is the people from the neighborhoods who go to every game. Or the way the ball bounces off the ivy covered back wall or the bleacher bums facing you every game.

But it is probably those hundred years that sit in the middle of a city in a green field that defies all logic. Men playing a game we played as kids and on a field that belongs to a memory.

www.williamhazelgrove.com
The Pitcher...Sometimes a dream is all you have
 

A Night at Wrigley

You get there and of course you need a hotdog and a beer. The best stand has the grilled onions and there is a line but you wait. The Budweiser is cold and tastes like ballpark beer...slightly metallic. A bag of peanuts and now you are on your way. The Cubs have not been doing so well so your thirteen dollar tickets are no longer relevant. There are many places to sit and no need to go into the nosebleed sections. So you plop down along the third base line and watch the Cubs warm up.

The rain has blown off and the sky has cleared and it is blue toward the lake. The honor guard is lining up for the National Anthem and the players have their hats off as some guy belts out the Star Spangled Banner. And he really lets it all fly on the final verse and everyone goes nuts and then you sit down and someone shouts: Play BALL. So you finish your hotdog and drink your beer and start cracking peanuts as the Cubs look like they might actually beat the Brewers.

There are some Brewers fans around you who are mostly quiet in the sea of Cub jerseys. And you pick out the lifers the ones who live in the city around the stadium. And the guys who sell the hotdogs and beers and are probably pushing sixty. Everyone in the park is an amazing testament to the national pastime to the old ladies in their Cub hats and the solitary fan scoring quietly by himself to the young girls in the tight Cub tank tops.

And the rain comes and they stop the game and you watch them roll out the tarp. An amazing orchestrated ballet really. And you sit there with everyone for an hour and watch the rain and lightning but you don't care. You are sitting in the middle of the greatest city in the world in one of the last great old ball parks. And the rain does stop and the players hit the field. Seventh Inning stretch comes and you sing with  thousands of other people Take Me Out to The Ball Park.

And then it is over and you are on the train headed back out. The Cub Fans are rowdy and then asleep and everyone is winding down. The rain has come back as you leave the train and walk toward your car. And you think, sometimes...life does deliver.

www.williamhazelgrove.com
The Pitcher...sometimes a dream is all you have