Austin & Onward

One of the hardest things I'll leave behind are trips to Wrigley Field. One of my former company's clients sent me a well-wishing email with the subject: "empty seat in the bleachers." While I don't usually sit in the bleachers and I don't even attend most of the games, I attend a lot of them and it doesn't surprise me that people have come to see my following this team as central to who I am these days, because it is.



Some of my great memories are set in the north side ballpark: bat day & baseball card day in the '80s; Sandberg & Grace in the '90s; Sosa hitting numbers 50 & 51 in '98; driving up a dozen times the summer of '01 -- the last carefree summer before I had to think about post-graduation; the tribute game when Arne Harris died; watching Kerry Wood & Mark Prior in '02 and again in '03; watching the club retire Santo's number; Game 6 of the '03 NLCS; the rain-shortened win over the White Sox (the only time I ever sat in the right field bleachers) on July fourth weekend in '04 where I didn't dry off until the next morning; catching a foul ball hit by Neifi Perez; and so on, for dozens and dozens more.

Hopefully I can squeeze in a few more before I leave.

* * *
I love Wrigley Field. I believe it's rather sacred -- deserving reverence -- as the most artful and sacrosanct place to watch the most graceful and nuanced game we have. Unlike some people I do not think it's perfect and I do not think it's romantic, but I think it's as good as it gets. Baseball is at its best when its appreciation is steeped in tradition.

I drink Old Style. Not Old Style Light, not Special Ex, not any beer made by Anheuser Busch, and only a 'premium' beer if someone else buys a round. And certainly not a mai tai. Not ever.

I arrive early if at all possible. I like batting practice. I like talking to the other people who come early enough for batting practice. More than that, I like soaking in the anticipation.

I stay until the end. Even when it's a blowout -- or it's brutally cold -- I watch through the bottom of the ninth. (Or, hopefully, through the top of the ninth.)

I rarely boo. I just don't see how it helps. I'm on the Cubs side, and there are only a few sets of circumstances that warrant booing a team for which I cheer. Booing is certainly a right, but I rarely prefer to exercise it.

I stand up. I stand to applaud after a big Cubs RBI. I stand to cheer when a pitcher has two strikes or two outs in a key moment.

I sit down. I wait until between innings to leave my seat, and I wait at least until between batters to return.

I keep score. I stopped for a while -- during the years when I drank an extra beer or three per game -- but now I keep score again. I notice that fewer of us do this, but now I prefer to do it again.

I talk to the other team's fans. I don't taunt them. Some of them are smart and informed, and I like hearing their observations.

I sing along to the seventh inning stretch. I 'root, root, root for the Cub-bies' (even in other parks). I say 'let's get some runs' but only when the Cubs actually need runs.

If I'm in the bleachers and someone passes me a cup full of dollar bills, I put in my dollar and hope for a home run. When it's not a homerun, I pass the cup along. If it is a homerun, I use the money to buy beer.

I tip the vendors. I cheer for the grounds crew after rain delays. I like trying to figure out what the organist is playing. I try not to stare at hot chicks' boobs except between innings... or at least between batters... or at least between pitches.

I notice how quickly the centerfield scoreboard updates balls and strikes. I am amazed by this again and again. It's like he knows whether a pitch is a strike before it reaches the plate.

I do all of this because I think it's just what you do if you're a Cubs fan. It's not that you can't be a Cubs fan if you don't do these things. I'm not one of those fans who thinks his is the special formula for being a good fan. It's just that this is the only way I happen to know.

* * *
In a few weeks, I move to Austin, Texas. I'm moving for a lot of reasons, not all of which are exactly coherent, even to me. This has never stopped me before, though, and I do not intend to let it start. Mainly, I'm moving in order to write. For the near future, I don't have any more focus than that, but right now that's enough.

Once I made this decision, the location was somewhat arbitrary, and so I picked Austin because it's a very fun city in a warmer climate. The thing is that I have too many friends in Chicago, and this means constant upcoming occasions for celebration like weddings, babies, housewarmings, birthdays, promotions, graduations, goings away, and sometimes simply weekends. I enjoy all of these occasions, but these things take their toll on a writer, especially if he's also a drinker. So, I'm cutting some ties to set off on a bit of an adventure. I figure it's now or never. Of course, it always is.

If anything, I'll probably write more about the Cubs in particular than I have been because my TiVo will still record every game, just via the extra innings package or whatever instead of local cable broadcasts. I'll have more time to reflect because for a while I'll have nothing but time. Still, I'm not fooling myself: it will not be the same. I will not get the last minute call every so often to use an extra ticket, and I'll miss having the possibility of that happening floating in the back of my mind. For what it's worth, I'll drive down the road to see them in Houston, but... well... you know.

Enough about this. This is not the forum for meandering this way because baseball is just a game and I am not the weepy type. Here, I just want to say that I will struggle a bit with leaving, that a lot of this feeling is because of my loyalty to the Chicago Cubs, and especially I will miss the way that many of my friends enjoy it together. It's a measure of how good Cubs fans in Chicago have it. While I'm gone, I will miss the community. I hope I appreciated it enough while I was there, because I know I'll gain appreciation once I'm gone. And that's that.