Hey Batter Batter

On May 18 I attended my second Cubs game of the week. The Cubs matched-up with the Pittsburgh Pirates for a 1:20 p.m. game. Marcel, a former journalism professor of mine, met me at the park to observe the news. An acquaintance from high school also met us in the bleachers. I would have potentially had my pick of bleacher spots had there not been an accident on the expressway delaying my bleacher mate was traveling to the park. Had Marcel been on time I wouldn't have been able to witness what I consider one of the biggest crimes in Cubsville.

Had Marcel been on time I wouldn't have been able to witness what I consider one of the biggest crimes in Cubsville. I was pacing by the Harry Carey statue when I stopped to take a look at Harry. To what did my wondering eyes see but a passerby stop, assume the position and puke right in front of Harry. Unluckily for Harry, the sculptor included Harry's famous glasses in the rendering allowing him to see the extreme party foul.

I opted to take the unreliable expressway and made surprisingly good time (30 minutes) getting to Wrigleyville.

The weather, typical of Chicago, varied by the inning. If the clouds impeded the sun, it was chilly and windy. When the sun decided to grace the bleachers with its radiance, it felt like 85. I felt like one of those Russian dolls, taking layers on and off depending on the sun.

I also learned thanks to Marcel that the hot dog vendors aren't shouting for "hot dogs." Rather they are extolling the need for "CONTEXT" in journalism.

The game itself was a good duel with the Cubs pulling out a 4-3 victory on their road to the playoffs.

Bleachers are an interesting place to see a game. I usually prefer the comforts of a seat with a back but every once and a while you need to experience the Cubs from the famed bleachers. Toward the end of the game I commented to my party of three how the bleachers should be a singles only area. I'll pass that along to the higher ups.