4. See a baseball game at Wrigley Field
There’s this adorable little onesie floating around on Pinterest that reads ‘I’m told I like baseball.’ Had this item existed back in 1987 and my parents were able to get their hands on it, they probably would have dressed me up in it until I was able to fit into a child’s sized- Reds uniform, which they did later (as evidenced by the picture below).
I was raised to love baseball, taught the rules, learned what a strike zone was, and how to keep score all before I entered junior high. Of course, when high school came around I decided I didn’t like sports as my form of rebellion, which was ridiculous because it was in my blood to like sports. You can’t fight genetics! I’ve since given up and embraced all the sports (except the NBA, which is still a total mystery to me).
A lot of people have those life goals of seeing a baseball game in every stadium. It’s an admirable goal, but I’m more interested in seeing games in the big name stadiums, the ones that are historic. Does it get more historic than Wrigley Field in Chicago, Illinois?
Wrigley Field perfectly represents the city which I’ve really grown to appreciate. There’s that infectious energy, the feeling of something historic and special that rides the waves of change as the years go on. I was so excited to go to a game that I’m pretty sure I skipped circles around my friend Andrew at one point.
The baseball game was nothing special and out of the ordinary. The Cubs won. I drank some beers and laughed with friends. I listened to Danny’s off-key singing of the Cubs song (I also didn’t know there was an official Cubs song until this game). However, it was unique to be in a place that summed up one of my favorite cities and favorite sports so perfectly.
When I got back to Denver (home, sweet home), I tacked my ticket up on my bulletin board by my desk like a teenager who just went to see her favorite band in concert. Maybe I’ll look up at it and channel some of that Chicago-brand energy into my work, or it’ll remind me that when I set goals for myself I can accomplish them.
Mostly though, I’ll probably just remember it as the time I saw a baseball game at Wrigley Field. It doesn’t need the dressings of metaphor or sentimentality. The memory existing in it’s pure Chicago goodness is enough for me.