Just a great day in Chicago yesterday enjoying a game at Wrigley Field. Drove Northwest through the high corn and dark green soybeans to the concrete jungle that is Chicago. Past the Lallapalooza stages along Lake Shore Drive, across the river and west to a cheap little secret parking garage along the RedLine. An early train to Addison and a casual stroll through all the Cubs gear stores. Then a stroll through Gallagher Way to the entrance nearest our seats by the fire station on Waveland. Just walk in, grab a hot dog(with ketchup ONLY) and head to the seats in 204!!
As I tell a lot of people, I’m not really that big of a baseball fan. I’m a Cubs fan. There is a great distinction between these two things. Way before PCA, Happ, and Sosa were names like Dawson, Sandberg, Sutcliffe, Cey, Dunston, Davis, Smith, etc. These were the mid 1980s and the Cubs had a team worthy of the love of a non-baseball fan like me. More than anyone on the list above; it was Harry Carey and Steve Stone that captured my attention and pulled me in. They told the story of what was happening on the screen. It was the days before the lights at Wrigley Field and every game was a day game. As a swimmer in the summer, the middle of the day was known as nap time between training sessions. Steve Stone was on the whole TV game on WGN while Harry was on TV for the first three and the last three innings. Steve Stone would precisely call the game and Harry Carey would ramble on about somebody’s birthday or how to pronounce a name like Galarraga if it were spelled backwards.
I would usually stay awake for the first three innings, doze off for the middle three, and then wake up to the musings of a rather Bud Light filled Harry Carey to finish the game.
On the field and at the plate, every single day was Ryan Sandberg. The Cubs second baseman played in 10 All-Star games, won golden gloves and silver bats or whatever they’re called countless times. But the thing I remember most about Ryan Sandberg is his purity and love for the game of baseball and the city of Chicago. After a very short rookie stint in Philadelphia, he came to Chicago. After a very short stint in Chicago: he became Chicago.
Yesterday‘s game was such a fitting tribute to Ryno with his number(23) painted behind the batters box and his 1984 teammates placing the second base bag just before the game. Just before PLAY BALL was called: We all took our feet for 23 seconds of silence. We honored number 23 yesterday, over 40,000 of us packed in Wrigley field on a perfect Friday afternoon in August. He wouldn’t have wanted this level of attention, but he deserved every second.
As is my routine, I leave our seats just before the seventh inning stretch, walking around the stadium on the inside as it is much faster than navigating that final beer and bathroom crowd downstairs. This time, though I stopped between the 100 and 200 level directly behind home plate for the song we all love. I was wondering if it was going to be a video of Harry Carey singing or how they were going to best honor Sandberg. It was a video of Sandberg and his family singing “Take me out to the ball game” from a little over a year ago on the day they unveiled the Sandburg statue in Galagher Way. I have to admit it was the first time I actually sang the song. Today this was a cathedral and we were all at church. I snapped the attached photo just as we finish the last verse and the crowd erupted.
What a day. Thanks Ryno!!
Every Four Years™ 