I belonged to a
group that wanted to save Comiskey Park, in the way that Fenway has been and
Wrigley most likely will be. We argued
history—the first All-Star game, Larry Doby breaking the color line in the
American League, Joe Louis winning the heavyweight title—along with policy—if
welfare is bad, it’s especially bad for professional sports’ franchises—and
design—the upper deck at Comiskey virtually hovered over the field of
play. But all critics wanted to talk
about was obstructed views and trough urinals.
When the park
came down in 1991, I spent a couple of very unhappy seasons rooting against the
White Sox. Then Clare came along. What was I supposed to do, sit her down and
pass along my grudges? So, I let it go
in order to be a good father and fan.
On Wednesday,
Clare took her Oak Park kids on a field trip to a day game at the Cell. They had what are known as “nosebleed
seats.” Clare told me, “We were so high
up the sound was different,” maybe because the crack of the bat travels more
out than up. “And I couldn’t see the
scoreboard. It was like watching the
game at home.” Why? “Because there was no sense you were there.”
I delicately
suggested that Wrigley Field was a better place for the serious fan to watch a
game, and my daughter agreed. Let it be
noted that architect Zachary Taylor Davis designed both real Chicago ballparks.
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