A few months before this trip, we got the idea that this would be a fun thing to do in spite of the fact that my dad is now actually a Sox fan. It was already sold out so we got tickets from an online ticket vendor for a price that I barely want to admit to paying for these seats. They, like our opera tickets, were squarely in the Wrigley Field death zone.
This is the post that we spent most of our time looking at and hoping there were no critical plays at second base.
It was very reassuring to watch it standing there keeping the roof up and, I'm sorry to say, also significantly more fun than watching the Cubs lose a shameful 11-2 to the Brewers.
One of the favorite rituals of attending a Cubs game with my father is after the game is over moving to new seats while everyone else is busy shuffling out and then sitting there are long as you can until they kick you out.
I was at a Cubs game the day before I was born - my parents and their friends used to sit out in the bleachers and have a good old time. Not sure if it was that game, or the many others that I've been to in my life since then, but Wrigley Field always kind of feels like home. But with more peanut shells on the floor.
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