A Baseball Town

After living through a weekend like this one, I can reaffirm that Chicago is definitely a baseball town. By the time the weather turned and I closed the window on the weekend -- figuratively and literally -- Friday morning seemed like weeks ago, and inbetween there has been nothing but baseball. Not just the games either, but baseball culture.

I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I am utterly exhausted. Still, I wanted to write something in summary of the weekend. It won't be as literary as I had hoped, but we're only human after all.

Friday was brilliant. There was not a single cloud in the sky the entire day. It's hard to believe that I'll be back at work tomorrow with a major sunburn and sun-streaked hair. I made it over to Murphy's Bleachers by 8am, had a beer at 8:15, and went over to wait in line at 8:45. I was about 15th in line along Sheffield, but by 9:30 there were about 80 people behind me. I spent a couple of hours chatting with a group that drove over for the game from the Quad Cities. My friends joined me in line by 11, and they opened the gates at 11:20. It's important to get a good spot in line for the bleachers, because if at all possible you want an aisle seat so you don't have to crawl over a dozen people to buy beer all afternoon.

This was my first opening day, at least that I can remember. (One advantage to growing up with my father was that I attended baseball games before I was old enough to remember them.) I had e-mailed my parents about going to the game, and this was my dad's response: "Hope springs eternal for all cub fans.......dad" That's it, isn't it.

Sometime during the game, though, the fans (including myself) went from enthusiastic and positive to embittered. When I say 'sometime' I really mean 'When Latroy [explitive] Hawkins blew the save.' It's just frustrating because everyone knew that this was a weakness of the team, and it felt like we were picking up right where we left off last September. Then Dusty compounded the problem by pulling a double-switch taking Nomar out of the game, then substituting a new pitcher for Glendon Rusch right after the double switch. There wasn't a single (soberish) fan in the bleachers who wasn't baffled.

I was all set to go right out to the bars and celebrate. Everything about the day had been designed by a Cubs-loving god, until the 9th inning when it turned on a dime. The weather, Wrigley Field, the enthusiasm, Kerry Wood pitching well (13 batters in a row without a hit at one stretch) -- everything was just right. It was an exact microcosm of everything good about Cubs baseball that breeds the unique brand of Cub fan optimism.

Then they lost.

By 9:00pm, on our second pitcher of beer after finally making it out to the bar, we were out of gas. Stick a fork in us. I was asleep by 10.

Stepping out of the shower around 9:15 Saturday morning, my phone was ringing. Now, my friends do not call at 9:15 on Saturday mornings. Before I saw the caller ID, I knew it had to be someone with tickets.

Sure enough, my buddy had extras to give away for the game. There's something to be said for a network of friends, because when one person gets extra tickets it becomes an extravaganza. It didn't hurt that the seats were down behind home plate, that Zambrano pitched a gem, and that the Cubs won. I thought that the crowd was going to be pessimistic after the letdown of Friday, but to a person everyone thought that Zambrano would win this game for the Cubs. And he did, almost single-handedly. He gave up one hit in the first inning, none after that, 2 walks, 0 runs, and got an RBI.

photo by KJM

Walking off, Zambrano pointed to the sky. I am not going to speculate about the deity out there on the receiving end, but I will say that this was a masterful, inspired, artful performance. It's exactly the type of game that renews the game of baseball for us when we need it.

Wrigleyville was a carnival before the game, but was even more so after. We all met up at Sluggers, and proceeded to imbibe with a couple hundred of our closest friends. There's hardly anything authentic or non-touristy about the bars around Wrigley after a game, but it doesn't really matter. It's easy to ride the enthusiasm for a couple of hours.

After a BBQ at some girls' house that I'd never met, I agreed to go on a bar crawl with some other friends. 5 more bars later, I got home at about 4:45am. This was how Friday was supposed to go, actually, but it was just a day late.

I'm glad I passed along my tickets for Sunday. I was going to go, but after the unexpected tickets for Saturday I didn't think I could have made it for 3 days in a row. I was right. Especially since it went extra innings.

So now we're a week into the season, and the narrative is started. The team is developing personality. Zambrano's performance stands out most, confirming everyone's prediction that this team's demeanor will be led by its pitching staff. They're not turning over the lineup as much as they need to, and Friday the pitchers walked a week's worth of batters, but coming through at 3-3 is good enough, especially since momentum is in our favor.

Plus, on Saturday the city got behind the team. We were ready to get behind them on Friday, but they blew it. 15 minutes after the game, no one wanted to talk about baseball. After the game Saturday, we talked about nothing but baseball for hours, with our friends and with strangers. This is exactly what needed to happen, or the whole season would have been sabotaged from the start. From a narrative standpoint, it had to start this way.

Here we go...