An Ode To Wrigley Field

Day 5 of the best of Mr. Blogger - September 15th
I love baseball. It means that Spring is here and good weather is on the way. It's also the only professional sport I really enjoy watching - whether on television or at the park. And Wrigley Field is one of the best places to see a game, no question. Wrigely might also hold some special memories for me...

TW: Was at the game Sunday with my brother, we were talking about how we hoped the new Cubs owners would not screw up Wrigley Field. Sunday was also the beat writer for the Reds, Hal McCoy's last game at Wrigley on the job. He summarized his thoughts on his blog:

"As I sit in the press box high above Wrigley, scanning the horizon to see the high rise buildings and Lake Michigan, I think of 37 years of coming to these hallowed grounds. They can talk all they want about Fenway Park, this is THE place to watch baseball. This is what baseball is all about.

Amazingly, the place has changed very little over 37 years - a few new seats crowded into the corners and a while bunch of grandstands atop the brownstone buildings on Waveland and Sheffield. The old-time scoreboard remains the same and the boisterous and belligerent Bleacher Bums remain the same.

But they’re gone now and I’m left here with my memories, of great times, of mostly day baseball, the way it was meant to be played. I love this park when it is empty and I love it when it is full.

...I could sit here and gape for hours, watch the elevated trains beyond the center field bleachers, watch the fans hitting all the bars in Wrigleyville, listen to the sirens from the firehouse behind the left field wall - a firehouse that has to be one of the busiest in Chicago because sirens are constant.

I can look at the ivy on the brick outfield walls and remember outfielder after outfielder getting tangled in the branches and searching frantically for lodged baseballs.

But I have a plane to catch home, so I’ll take my last look around this baseball pasture, this REAL Field of Dreams, and with a tear or two at the corner of my eyes, I’ll walk to the left field corner, take one last glance very close to the left field foul pole, then walk down a portal to the elevator and leave by the gate across from the firehouse. I’ll hail a cab and watch another dream fade over my shoulders."