Offseason Nostalgia, I Miss Wrigley

I’m ready for baseball season. I’ve spent the off-season anxious and watching the trades. I’ve used the #hotstove, #mlb, and #baseball hashtags daily. I’ve tweeted, I’ve blogged, I’ve bored my non-baseball friends to tears over the fate of my favorite players.

I’ve even discussed (at length) Scott Podsednik in baseball pants.

Today, I got incredibly excited to see Wrigley Field. I assure you this rarely happens.

I’ve been desensitized to the great ballpark in my backyard. Maybe it’s the binge-drinking college crowd the neighborhood attracts. Maybe it’s National League baseball. Maybe it’s the fact I see it almost everyday.

I know Wrigley Field is a spectacle. Trust me, I’ve been excited to see it before. It is one of the oldest and greatest ballparks in America, and that does make it unique and timeless.

I remember seeing Wrigley Field on television as a kid and begging my dad to take me to a game at Wrigley. I wanted to see that great brick wall covered in ivy.  We sat in the top row of the ballpark and my dad recounted the great—and not so great—history of the Chicago Cubs. I had my first Chicago dog, and I’ll never forget how cold that lake breeze felt in the ballpark.

As a Chicagoan, whenever someone comes to visit me, they want to see Wrigley Field. As a good hostess, I take them there. The tour includes:

Picture in front of the neon sign? (Check)

Picture in front of Harry Caray statue? (check)

Buy you a Cubs T-shirt from a street vendor? (Double Check)

Drink a beer at the Cubby Bear? (We’re finished)

Though I hate the routine,  the baseball season brings a vibrancy to the neighborhood that the winter lacks.  As I approached Wrigleyville via the red line today, it was empty.

No one got on or off the train.

Not a single  “The Riot” T-shirt.

No families ushering their kids with mitts to catch foul balls.

No one tapped me on the shoulder for directions.

Didn’t see a single beer can.

Not a single peanut shell on the train.

No one mentions 1908.

The empty field completely covered in snow was peeking through the buildings. It made me genuinely sad, and I don’t even like the Cubs! I’m emotionally waiting the return of baseball… it can’t come soon enough.

The Seven People You Meet at Blackhawks Games

On a snowy Chicago night, a friend and I braved the weather for cheap tickets at a Blackhawks game.  Thanks, Season Ticket holder in section 323 who decided there was too much snow to attend the game. We had a great time in your stead.

I’m a people watcher.  A totally nosy people watcher. It’s a habit I developed as a child that I can’t seem to shake. These are the folks I’ve seen at Hawks games. Chances are, you’ve seen them too.

White Collar Hockey Elite: You know who I’m talking about. They are typically VPs, CEOs, up-coming Nuevo riche.  They have season tickets to smooze their clients. These are the easiest to spot: They’ve put on a Chelios Jersey (he’s still the captain, right?) over their white oxford. Sometimes, they even leave the tie on. Dress slacks, loafers, a bald patch, and a Rolex. These guys sip cocktails and Glenlivet instead of beer.

My honey’s Jersey: These are the girls that were clearly tricked into going to the hockey game. He probably called and said, “I’ve got a big surprise for you tonight,” and showed up with two XXL jerseys—one for him and one the Toew’s Jersey for her. Instead of a nice dinner at Café 28, they are in the 300 section awkwardly eating those French fries with the ketchup all over the top layer.  Not only do they hate hockey, they don’t understand hockey.

I <3 Cubs: Since it’s too cold to meet a Wrigley Field for the Chicago Cubs Keg Party, these guys have to party somewhere. You’ve seen them, and you’ve had seats next to them. They talk on their cell phones incessantly and break the commandments of hockey. They get up to get more beer before the whistle, and they keep yelling , “SHOOT IT.” They are drunk by the end of the 1^st period, due to pre-gaming at a bar in Lincoln Park.  They puke on the #20 bus on their way back to the Brown Line.

Match.com: There are some girls that have realized that going to a hockey game means spending the evening surrounded by men. These girls show up whiskey-drunk in their favorite scantily clad outfit. They are the only ones wearing short-sleeves in the whole UC. They also are wearing six-inch heels when there’s over a foot of snow outside. They are simply trolling for free drinks, cat-calls, and their future husbands.

Dad, I’m tired: These hockey dads want their son to be the next Kris Versteeg. They take their kids to the open skates, buy them gear, and push them into the world of hockey-awesomeness. These boys, while adorable in their Kane jerseys, are asleep in their seat by the 2^nd period.  Don’t push too hard, dad. They’ll become serial killers.

I’m afraid of Traffic: These are the guy who come to the hockey game early. The game starts at 7:30pm and they are walking into the UC around 6:15pm. They get in their seats and prepare for an exciting hockey game… which they will leave in the beginning of the third period to avoid the traffic.

I felt bad for these traffic-ers last night: They left when the Hawks were up by 1 goal, and missed a 5-round shoot out which led to a Hawks victory.  At least they made it to the interstate in a timely fashion.

Hockey Hockey Hockey Heads: These are the quintessential hockey fans.  They have a collection of Bobble heads in their cubicle. They have a Blackhawks calendar and mouse pad. They have season tickets and actually use them. They get fiery when Toews gets called on a penalty. When there’s a power play, they grit their teeth and count down from 2:00 in their head.  Blackhawks Jersey, ski-cap, and flag included.

It wouldn’t be a game without all of these people. Though some are arrogant, others are bored, and some are violating the most holy of hockey commandments, they all come together and cheer with Versteeg scores in a 5-round shootout for a Hawks victory… except for the Traffic-ers, because they missed the whole thing.