Behind Enemy Lines

Yesterday, Michele and I went to Wrigley Field for the Reds-Cubs game.  If you could extend the third-base line to the upper deck about fifteen rows, those were our seats, and perfect ones they were.

I was very well behaved throughout, except for that time in the top of the first when Cincinnati’s Billy Hamilton scored from second on a passed ball and error by Cubs’ catcher David Ross; a few loud “way to go’s” slipped out.  But other than that, I was good to the point of invisible.  It helped that there was a very big, muscled guy off to my left.  He was fully tanked and ready to go at it with the home-plate umpire for his balls and strikes.  Better that I didn’t divert his attention away from the field.

And, anyway, there was so much to look at, in addition to the game.  It’s at times like this that I appreciate baseball as a city game.  At Comiskey Park, and to a lesser extent now at the Cell, I could always look out from one of the arches in the façade to see the church steeples and factory smokestacks in the distance; you always knew where you were.  It’s the same at Wrigley with those apartment buildings along Waveland and Sheffield avenues.

Our seats made for easy tracking of all four Cub homeruns, each of which I dutifully marked down on my scorecard.  Between pitches, I looked around, kept an eye on my inebriated friend down the way.  There was a little boy sitting next to me, and I wondered if he’d remember what I did, the breeze shifting, that large American flag off in the distance atop a building with an equally large B on its side.  When the Braves move to their new suburban park next year, will fans even be able to see outside the park?  And what will they see, other than more of suburbia?

We didn’t have anything to drink at the park ($8.75 for a beer, $5 for water), so we had no need to use the remodeled and expanded washroom facilities.  The only part of the remodeling that struck me were the two video boards.  What’s the old saying, two’s company and three’s a crowd?  Well, with the hand-operated scoreboard, you’re at three.  The one in left field should go.  Call it redundant.

That’s a Joe Maddon kind of word, like “amorphous,” which is how Joe described the strike zone for one of the Mets’ games over the weekend.  Apparently, it turned amorphous again yesterday, and Mr. Maddon got tossed by the umpire my friend wanted to fight, this in the second inning.  So, the home-team manager wasn’t around to see if batting the pitcher eighth worked; John Lackey went 0 for 2 while Javier Baez, the no. 9 batter, went 1 for 3 with a homer.

White Sox fans like to say that their favorite teams are the Sox and whoever’s playing the Cubs that day.  My Reds won, 9-5.  It made for a nice ‘L’ ride.