Over 4th of July weekend, Foreign Correspondent and Friend were in town for four days. You’re familiar with their contirbutions to Waiting for the Cubs from their recent coverage of games and ballparks in Philadelphia and Miami. On Saturday we decided to make a full Chicago day of it with a trip to you-know-where as the centerpiece event of our adventures.
We started the day on the Brown Line, aka Ravenswood, heading to the Green City Market in Lincoln Park.
We got off the Ravenswood at Armitage and walked east, pausing to refresh at a convenient hydrant …
We breakfasted at the market on fresh cider donuts, lamb and pork fiadone (meat pies), strawberry and raspberry smoothies, samples of marinated portobello mushrooms with freshly baked baguette, apple puff pastries and other treats …
and then bought a sack o’ fresh cherries to go …
and headed east across Lincoln Park past the South Lagoon …
and the ball fields …
to North Avenue Beach where the two correspondents wanted to take a quick dip in the refreshingly cold fresh water of Lake Michigan …
And then it was time to head to Wrigley Field. We caught a bus in the park …
and took it up to Addison where we walked to the ballpark, approaching from the east for the first time in three seasons! (We live 1.6 miles west.)
But upon arrival, about two hours before the scheduled 3:05 first pitch, we were told by a guy behind a ticket window that there was no standing room and only expensive single seats were left. We were certain we were being jived; that the Cubs were trying to up-sell us, preying on our desperation. What to do next?
“I need a dog,” said Friend of Foreign Correspondent. Brilliant! We retired to Wrigleysville Dogs to consider our next move.
I made a call. Our friend Chris, who was in Ohio at a wedding with Son of Admin and Wife of Son of Admin, in turn made some more calls only to find out that nothing below $80 was available on the street. Glum, we decided to call the ticket office’s bluff.
“Any standing room?”
“Sure!” said the same guy who ninety minutes before told us SRO was sold out. “How many you need?”
It was thumbs up and high fives all around as we strolled happily toward Waveland Avenue to our usual entrance at Gate K.
Up at our favorite SRO spot it felt to Foreign Correspondent and Friend as if they had returned home after a lengthy exile. Except that it was Friend of Foreign Correspondent’s first time in SRO! He thought he had strolled into Waiting4Cubs come alive!
We had a blast, meeting fans, like this young fella who wanted to compare scorecards with Foreign Correspondent …
Next to Wife of Admin stood a Sox fan with a number 11 jersey with no name above the number.
I asked politely if he was wearing a Luis Aparicio shirt. He confirmed that he was indeed wearing a number that he thought should be retired by the White Sox instead of letting it be desecrated by lesser players and even outright bums. I thought it curious because he was much too young to have been alive when Aparicio played shortstop for the Go-Go White Sox of 1959 pennant fame. Nonetheless, I offered, “I loved Luis Aparicio!” … and it’s true! I did! We got along great for the rest of the game. We even saved his and his friend’s (Cub fan) spot along the rail while they went in search of the men’s room, or beers, or probably both.
And then he appeared. Magically. Miraculously. Standing on the ramp behind us.
A ghostly figure, a shadow lost in the glare of the late afternoon sun shining in from over West Lakeview.
Was he finally going to join us peons in standing room after a couple of years of much publicized sitting in the upper deck, in the grandstands, box seats and bleachers??? Was he with us to extend a personal welcome to Friend of Foreign Correspondent and a welcome home to Foreign Correspondent?????
Should I give him heat about the Cubs SRO policies that almost had us on the 152 bus heading home to watch on TV??????
But alas, as happened so often before, he was in SRO on his way somewhere else. He had paused only to chat (with some animation on both parts) with an usher. And then he was gone, up the ramp to the upper deck.
Ah well, back to the game.
And what a game! A classic pitchers’ duel. Matt Garza pitched brilliantly, giving up only one run. In fact, he had a no-hitter going into the sixth. But the Cubs scored ZERO runs — having two on with no outs three times only to have the nascent rallies squelched by double plays. Sox starter Philip Humber pitched seven shutout innings and got the win. Garza went the distance and received a standing ovation when he left the mound after the top of the ninth, but got the loss.
Cursing the Cubs’ lack of clutch hitting, we made our way out of the ballpark, getting our picture taken by a fan on the ramp! Who knows where that photo ended up? Maybe we’re on her FaceBook page!
What next? Direction: north to Andersonville. Goal: Great Lake Pizza, rated by no less than GQ, as quoted in the New York Times, as the best pizza in America.
Our friend Lydia at Great Lake told us that they probably didn’t have enough dough (literally — not “dough” as in bucks) to make pizzas for us. Saddened, we stood out on Balmoral Street, again wondering about our next move. But then the door opened and Lydia rushed out to tell us that we were in luck and would be seated in two hours. You see, Son of Admin regularly tips the good folks at Great Lake with not only a generous percentage over the tab, but a bottle or two of his best Vinejoy selections. It’s good to have friends in high places, like the finest pizza joint anywhere. Lydia wrote my name down as “Dad of Son of Admin,” in so many words, and said she’d call my cell phone when our half of the one big table in the little storefront was ready.
But two hours? NO PROBLEM!
We happily retired to the patio behind In Fine Spirits on Clark Street for a refreshment or two or three as we awaited the call from Lydia.
And then the phone rang and we returned to Great Lake for two of the most delicious pizzas in the history of western civilization, washed down with a bottle of Vinejoy’s Goundwork Grenache. Heaven …
What a great Chicago day! Except for the Cubs, of course. But as we headed home in a cab …
… we decided to return to the ballpark the next day for game three of the Cubs-Sox series. But this time we would be smart and get there when standing room was actually available much closer to the start of the game.
Which we did, only to be told by the ticket guy that SRO was sold out. “They’re jiving us again!” we thought. So we waited until game time and tried again. Ha! Joke’s on us! They were not lying to us this time. SRO was indeed sold out. Bummed, we checked a couple of brokers who wanted $50 and $60 for standing room tickets (face value: $15+tax). No way. In spite of the fact that I once spent $100 per ticket for standing room for a Cubs-Sox game (see Waiting for the Cubs, the book), we weren’t going to pay that kind of dough (as in “bucks”) again.
So we hopped on the 152 and went home to watch the rest of the game on TV. Cubs won! We celebrated with a nice risotto and some more great Vinejoy selections. Life is good in Chicago.
Love this commentary…. wish I had been there with youse guys! Sounds like buckets ‘o fun was had by all.
We had nothing but fun all day long, except when we were worried we weren’t going to get into the ballpark.