Taking myself to the ball game
Len Kasper, the Cubs' television play-by-play man, tempted me. "Good seats are still available for the series against the Reds."
Honestly, it doesn't take much to get me up for going to a baseball game; the question "Do you want to go to a ball game?" and half-decent company pretty much guarantees a "yes" response from me. I've skipped work to go to the park (and was caught by a co-worker once... thanks KDFI, Channel 27!) and would be the kind of dad to pull my kid out of school on a sunny Spring day to catch a game.
Although just about any park would have a pull on me, Wrigley Field is just that much more special. It's the place I saw my first game at three and a half, and I've loved it ever since. In fact, I'm not entirely sure if I love Wrigley Field because of the Cubs or the other way around. In short, any excuse someone provides for me to go to Wrigley for a game, I'm there.
But as much as I love going to a ball game, I had never been to one by myself. I can't tell you why. I'm not afraid of travelling alone; I once drove from Alabama back to Northwest Indiana in one day by myself. I'm not afraid of taking mass transportation alone, either; I've taken the train to Chicago quite a few times and the El doesn't intimidate me, either. The only reason that makes the slightest bit of sense to me is that I can be somewhat misanthropic at times... and from the moment you get on the train to Chicago to the moment you step off the return train back, you're surrounded by people.
Last week, however, provided an opportunity I couldn't pass up. First, not only were there seats available, but this was one of the few "value" games the Cubs have*. Second, it was unseasonably warm, which made for great outdoor weather, at least in temperature. Third, thanks to my supervisor's unannounced decision over a month back, I had the time. And last, but certainly far from least, two of the three days gave me an opportunity to see excellent pitching: Either the future Hall Of Famer Greg Maddux or the young ace Carlos Zambrano.
After a bit of internal debate (where my dislike of condensed crowds battled my love of Chicago, the Cubs, and Wrigley Field) and waiting for a reasonably accurate weather report (I barely trust forecasts past 48 hours and don't trust them at all past 72), I decided to go. For a number of reasons, I had already decided I didn't want to go on Tuesday, so all there was to do was check the weather for Wednesday and Thursday. Of course, Tuesday was the day the three weather outlets I consulted concurred there would be no rain. To boil the predictions down, they thought it might rain Wednesday morning but probably would clear by game time, however on Thursday, it would be clear, but afternoon storms might make the trek home wet. With that information in mind, I chose to take my chances with Wednesday's game.
I decided to treat myself and buy the best ticket I could: Section 222, Row 3, Seat 101. Normally, I might complain about how an "$18" ticket turns into a $25.57 ticket after completely unavoidable fees, but even with the extra charges, it still was a good price. If I had any remaining doubt on whether or not I wanted to go, the ability to get that seat -- a good seat on the end of a row, no less -- wiped it out.
If you go to the official Cubs website and look under Wrigley Field for "Directions & Parking", it says: "Cubs fans are strongly encouraged to use public transportation to and from games." What they mean is: "If you drive to the games, you are a moron." If you've never been there, Wrigley Field is one of the last neighborhood ballparks, which is pretty much a quaint way of saying there is nowhere to park. Actually, I take that back. There are scattered lots around the area, but not nearly enough to handle a golf tournament, let alone a baseball game. (Besides that, I happened to glance at a lot across the street from Wrigley; they were charging $35 to park. Yes, you read that right. I had to reread the sign myself to make sure I saw it correctly.) You can't park on the streets anywhere near Wrigley because of the zealous tow truck companies and drivers more than ready to help the city enforce the neighborhood parking restrictions. Much more reasonable and much less risky is a shuttle that runs from the DeVry University campus two miles west of Wrigley to the stadium where you can park and ride for $6, but that is only available for night and weekend games.
There are buses and more distant train stops, but the public transportation they mean is the CTA Red Line which stops a block (and about 70 vendors) away from the park and runs every 6-8 minutes. For me coming in from Northwest Indiana, however, I had to ride the South Shore into downtown Chicago first. While the Red Line is set up quite well for trips to baseball games (as it also goes south to that other park), the South Shore is somewhat less so. The main goal of that line is to get Hoosiers from the northern part of the state to and from work, so other than the half-hour intervals during the morning and afternoon rush hours, the line runs every hour on weekdays and every two hours on weekends, so timing or patience is must.
I wanted to get to Wrigley about an hour before the game and walk around the park a little, especially as expanded bleachers and a new restaurant were added this past off-season, hence my intention was to catch the 10:25 train, which arrived at Chicago at 11:10. I left my apartment later than I wanted, but I still would have made the train except for two things: 1) There was an accident on the highway, causing me to lose about five minutes of time and 2) Illinois is repairing the main highway into downtown, convincing some that would normally drive to take the train, meaning the parking lot at the station I prefer was completely full and after (somewhat foolishly) searching for an open space, I had to park in the overflow lot across the street. Fortunately, my fallback was that there was still one other train that would get me to the park before the opening pitch, the 11:25. Missing the earlier train gave me plenty of time to wonder if the cloudy sky would clear or bring the rain one of the weather reports iffily forecast.
The sky didn't get much better on the way to Chicago, but then again, it didn't get worse either. I walked the two blocks over from the South Shore to the Red Line station and after going down a flight of stairs and an escalator. It was about 10 minutes before a train came, and as you could probably guess, it was crowded. I'm pretty sure I made one guy rather uncomfortable with where and how I was standing, but there was no other direction I could turn without either doing the same thing to someone else or being right in someone else's face. Fortunately, a couple of passengers riding the train not going to the game got off which allowed him to sit down. (It also let his tank-top wearing girlfriend sit on his lap who was, well, quite hard not to look at. I couldn't help to think that I got an unspoken pass from him at looking at her, if for no other reason than it allowed him to think I was just as uneasy about where I had been standing as he was.) About fifteen minutes after getting on, most of the rest of the sardines and I got off the train and headed toward Wrigley.
I arrived at my seat about fifteen minutes before the scheduled start time to find the row empty clear over to the other section, which immediately raised a red flag in my mind. While there was still time before the game, there was also at least fifteen seats empty, meaning somebody would be coming late. I don't mind getting up for people who come later than me if they are still early, but I hate when people break my concentration because I have to stand up and let them in the row because they're late to the game, or movie, or play, or whatever. Needless to say, no one in the row came before the game started. I had to stand up three different times to let people in. To the credit to a couple of the groups I let in, they didn't move, or at least, I didn't have to let them out. As for the four immediately to my left, however, I had to let at least one of them in or out seemingly each inning. I can say for sure it was at least six, including two of the people leaving the row the same inning that they came in. I understand moving for your fellow fans is just as much a part of watching a baseball game as cheering your team, but it doesn't stop that from being frustrating. (Though to be fair, the woman who sat next to me did apologize on the behalf of her and her friends.)
Anyway, the game went well, at least from my perspective. Greg Maddux pitched great, striking out seven in six innings, giving up only one run. The Reds defense was absolutely horrible that day committing five errors, including three from the third baseman alone. We, I mean, the Cubs should have scored more than four runs, but it was nice to see the team play fairly effective small ball instead of relying on the home run. It was also nice having a pitcher who is effective in the closer's role, unlike the game I went to last May.
Instead of seeing the bleachers from the inside, I walked around to the right field wall to see how they looked from the outside and was impressed with how well they blended in with the classic architecture of Wrigley. As I was already familiar with the half-hour-plus wait and subsequent cramming onto the train after the game, I planned ahead and found myself with a seat on the ride back downtown. And since it was approaching the afternoon rush hour, it was easy to catch a train back to Indiana, despite the seats ending up full.
While I caught myself thinking about how much fun it would be to have had someone with me that day, I couldn't help but mentally kick myself for not going to a game alone before then. You ride one train in, walk two blocks, catch another train, walk another block, and about an hour and a half after you get on the first train, you're at Wrigley. I might not like the idea of having to ride public transportation, but going to a Cubs game more than makes up for it.
(Oh, and in case you're wondering, it didn't rain either Wednesday or Thursday, at least not when it would have interrupted the game. Of course, if I had ignored the weather forecast or forgot to check it, whichever game I chose probably would have been rained out. :-)
* There are three pricing structures for home games at Wrigley Field: "Regular", which are mostly the games before Memorial Day and after Labor Day; "Prime", which are inflated-admission tickets during the summer -- you know, when families would take their kids to a game -- as well as games against Cardinals or White Sox; and "Value", which are the few mid-week afternoon games earlier in the year. I'll be a Cubs fan no matter what, but it's really frustrating seeing as the Tribune Company loves to rip us fans off. (By the way, can anyone tell me how you can have more prime dates (44) than regular ones (31)? Doesn't that make the prime dates regular? Wouldn't that be false advertising?)
Welcome to Cubdom
You scored 92 History, 95 Loyalty, and 100 Wrigley Field!
You are the model fan. You love the Cubs, you love Wrigley Field, and
you know all about the Cubs' history. All other baseball fans should
pay homage to you. You are a great, if not the greatest, person on the
face of this planet. You must be from the North Side.
My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
You scored higher than 90% on History
You scored higher than 90% on Loyalty
You scored higher than 86% on Wrigley Field
Link: The Chicago Cubs Test written by superscot77 on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test
Honestly, it doesn't take much to get me up for going to a baseball game; the question "Do you want to go to a ball game?" and half-decent company pretty much guarantees a "yes" response from me. I've skipped work to go to the park (and was caught by a co-worker once... thanks KDFI, Channel 27!) and would be the kind of dad to pull my kid out of school on a sunny Spring day to catch a game.
Although just about any park would have a pull on me, Wrigley Field is just that much more special. It's the place I saw my first game at three and a half, and I've loved it ever since. In fact, I'm not entirely sure if I love Wrigley Field because of the Cubs or the other way around. In short, any excuse someone provides for me to go to Wrigley for a game, I'm there.
But as much as I love going to a ball game, I had never been to one by myself. I can't tell you why. I'm not afraid of travelling alone; I once drove from Alabama back to Northwest Indiana in one day by myself. I'm not afraid of taking mass transportation alone, either; I've taken the train to Chicago quite a few times and the El doesn't intimidate me, either. The only reason that makes the slightest bit of sense to me is that I can be somewhat misanthropic at times... and from the moment you get on the train to Chicago to the moment you step off the return train back, you're surrounded by people.
Last week, however, provided an opportunity I couldn't pass up. First, not only were there seats available, but this was one of the few "value" games the Cubs have*. Second, it was unseasonably warm, which made for great outdoor weather, at least in temperature. Third, thanks to my supervisor's unannounced decision over a month back, I had the time. And last, but certainly far from least, two of the three days gave me an opportunity to see excellent pitching: Either the future Hall Of Famer Greg Maddux or the young ace Carlos Zambrano.
After a bit of internal debate (where my dislike of condensed crowds battled my love of Chicago, the Cubs, and Wrigley Field) and waiting for a reasonably accurate weather report (I barely trust forecasts past 48 hours and don't trust them at all past 72), I decided to go. For a number of reasons, I had already decided I didn't want to go on Tuesday, so all there was to do was check the weather for Wednesday and Thursday. Of course, Tuesday was the day the three weather outlets I consulted concurred there would be no rain. To boil the predictions down, they thought it might rain Wednesday morning but probably would clear by game time, however on Thursday, it would be clear, but afternoon storms might make the trek home wet. With that information in mind, I chose to take my chances with Wednesday's game.
I decided to treat myself and buy the best ticket I could: Section 222, Row 3, Seat 101. Normally, I might complain about how an "$18" ticket turns into a $25.57 ticket after completely unavoidable fees, but even with the extra charges, it still was a good price. If I had any remaining doubt on whether or not I wanted to go, the ability to get that seat -- a good seat on the end of a row, no less -- wiped it out.
If you go to the official Cubs website and look under Wrigley Field for "Directions & Parking", it says: "Cubs fans are strongly encouraged to use public transportation to and from games." What they mean is: "If you drive to the games, you are a moron." If you've never been there, Wrigley Field is one of the last neighborhood ballparks, which is pretty much a quaint way of saying there is nowhere to park. Actually, I take that back. There are scattered lots around the area, but not nearly enough to handle a golf tournament, let alone a baseball game. (Besides that, I happened to glance at a lot across the street from Wrigley; they were charging $35 to park. Yes, you read that right. I had to reread the sign myself to make sure I saw it correctly.) You can't park on the streets anywhere near Wrigley because of the zealous tow truck companies and drivers more than ready to help the city enforce the neighborhood parking restrictions. Much more reasonable and much less risky is a shuttle that runs from the DeVry University campus two miles west of Wrigley to the stadium where you can park and ride for $6, but that is only available for night and weekend games.
There are buses and more distant train stops, but the public transportation they mean is the CTA Red Line which stops a block (and about 70 vendors) away from the park and runs every 6-8 minutes. For me coming in from Northwest Indiana, however, I had to ride the South Shore into downtown Chicago first. While the Red Line is set up quite well for trips to baseball games (as it also goes south to that other park), the South Shore is somewhat less so. The main goal of that line is to get Hoosiers from the northern part of the state to and from work, so other than the half-hour intervals during the morning and afternoon rush hours, the line runs every hour on weekdays and every two hours on weekends, so timing or patience is must.
I wanted to get to Wrigley about an hour before the game and walk around the park a little, especially as expanded bleachers and a new restaurant were added this past off-season, hence my intention was to catch the 10:25 train, which arrived at Chicago at 11:10. I left my apartment later than I wanted, but I still would have made the train except for two things: 1) There was an accident on the highway, causing me to lose about five minutes of time and 2) Illinois is repairing the main highway into downtown, convincing some that would normally drive to take the train, meaning the parking lot at the station I prefer was completely full and after (somewhat foolishly) searching for an open space, I had to park in the overflow lot across the street. Fortunately, my fallback was that there was still one other train that would get me to the park before the opening pitch, the 11:25. Missing the earlier train gave me plenty of time to wonder if the cloudy sky would clear or bring the rain one of the weather reports iffily forecast.
The sky didn't get much better on the way to Chicago, but then again, it didn't get worse either. I walked the two blocks over from the South Shore to the Red Line station and after going down a flight of stairs and an escalator. It was about 10 minutes before a train came, and as you could probably guess, it was crowded. I'm pretty sure I made one guy rather uncomfortable with where and how I was standing, but there was no other direction I could turn without either doing the same thing to someone else or being right in someone else's face. Fortunately, a couple of passengers riding the train not going to the game got off which allowed him to sit down. (It also let his tank-top wearing girlfriend sit on his lap who was, well, quite hard not to look at. I couldn't help to think that I got an unspoken pass from him at looking at her, if for no other reason than it allowed him to think I was just as uneasy about where I had been standing as he was.) About fifteen minutes after getting on, most of the rest of the sardines and I got off the train and headed toward Wrigley.
I arrived at my seat about fifteen minutes before the scheduled start time to find the row empty clear over to the other section, which immediately raised a red flag in my mind. While there was still time before the game, there was also at least fifteen seats empty, meaning somebody would be coming late. I don't mind getting up for people who come later than me if they are still early, but I hate when people break my concentration because I have to stand up and let them in the row because they're late to the game, or movie, or play, or whatever. Needless to say, no one in the row came before the game started. I had to stand up three different times to let people in. To the credit to a couple of the groups I let in, they didn't move, or at least, I didn't have to let them out. As for the four immediately to my left, however, I had to let at least one of them in or out seemingly each inning. I can say for sure it was at least six, including two of the people leaving the row the same inning that they came in. I understand moving for your fellow fans is just as much a part of watching a baseball game as cheering your team, but it doesn't stop that from being frustrating. (Though to be fair, the woman who sat next to me did apologize on the behalf of her and her friends.)
Anyway, the game went well, at least from my perspective. Greg Maddux pitched great, striking out seven in six innings, giving up only one run. The Reds defense was absolutely horrible that day committing five errors, including three from the third baseman alone. We, I mean, the Cubs should have scored more than four runs, but it was nice to see the team play fairly effective small ball instead of relying on the home run. It was also nice having a pitcher who is effective in the closer's role, unlike the game I went to last May.
Instead of seeing the bleachers from the inside, I walked around to the right field wall to see how they looked from the outside and was impressed with how well they blended in with the classic architecture of Wrigley. As I was already familiar with the half-hour-plus wait and subsequent cramming onto the train after the game, I planned ahead and found myself with a seat on the ride back downtown. And since it was approaching the afternoon rush hour, it was easy to catch a train back to Indiana, despite the seats ending up full.
While I caught myself thinking about how much fun it would be to have had someone with me that day, I couldn't help but mentally kick myself for not going to a game alone before then. You ride one train in, walk two blocks, catch another train, walk another block, and about an hour and a half after you get on the first train, you're at Wrigley. I might not like the idea of having to ride public transportation, but going to a Cubs game more than makes up for it.
(Oh, and in case you're wondering, it didn't rain either Wednesday or Thursday, at least not when it would have interrupted the game. Of course, if I had ignored the weather forecast or forgot to check it, whichever game I chose probably would have been rained out. :-)
* There are three pricing structures for home games at Wrigley Field: "Regular", which are mostly the games before Memorial Day and after Labor Day; "Prime", which are inflated-admission tickets during the summer -- you know, when families would take their kids to a game -- as well as games against Cardinals or White Sox; and "Value", which are the few mid-week afternoon games earlier in the year. I'll be a Cubs fan no matter what, but it's really frustrating seeing as the Tribune Company loves to rip us fans off. (By the way, can anyone tell me how you can have more prime dates (44) than regular ones (31)? Doesn't that make the prime dates regular? Wouldn't that be false advertising?)
Welcome to Cubdom
You scored 92 History, 95 Loyalty, and 100 Wrigley Field!
You are the model fan. You love the Cubs, you love Wrigley Field, and
you know all about the Cubs' history. All other baseball fans should
pay homage to you. You are a great, if not the greatest, person on the
face of this planet. You must be from the North Side.
My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
You scored higher than 90% on History
You scored higher than 90% on Loyalty
You scored higher than 86% on Wrigley Field
Link: The Chicago Cubs Test written by superscot77 on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test