July 6, 1976

"The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It's been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game, is a part of our past. It reminds of us of all that once was good - and that could be again."
   -James Earl Jones as Terence Mann in "Field of Dreams"

I was a precocious four and a half years old and I was in Chicago for the first time with my parents. We'd flown up there for the festivities surrounding the bicentennial celebration and then stayed for a number of days while my parents took me to all the places they thought I'd love (I was so spoiled back in those days). Great America. The Museum of Natural History. The Museum of Science and Industry. The Sears Tower. Shedd Aquarium. All of these places played a large role in kickstarting my love affair with the Windy City, but none of them so much as Wrigley Field.

How can I describe that first day at the ballpark? Riding an elevated train full of diehard fans in full regalia to Wrigleyville and letting the throng carry us through the gates as surely and smoothly as a river's current carries a boat downstream? That first sight of the field, of the beautiful old scoreboard, of the lush green ivy blanketing the unforgving bricks of the outfield walls with illusory softness? The first juicy bite of a ballpark hotdog, the smell of the still-warm peanuts as my dad tore into the bag that the vendor had casually tossed our way? The first mad scramble for a foul ball? Hanging over the rails before gametime hoping and praying that a player would come my way and sign my first autograph? There are no words for these memories. But I'll treasure them always.

Steve Stone was on the mound for the Cubs, and to this day whenever I hear his voice it takes me back to the most perfect summer day I've ever experienced. It kills me that he and the Cubs split last year under such ugly circumstances - and don't tell me how baseball is a business, either, because I know it is. The problem is that sometimes these businessmen forget that it's so much more than that. After Stoney left the game, Bruce Sutter stepped in and cruised the rest of the way. Bill Madlock (who went on that year to win the National League batting title) had a two-run double early and the Cubs, wonder of wonders, actually won one for me that day. It was a 4-0 shutout, it was absolutely glorious, and I was completely hooked.

Things haven't gone so well for my Cubbies since then. They've come close a few times (oh, did 1984 break my heart - and if I thought 1984 was as bad as it could get, did 2003 ever prove me wrong) but, in the end, have always fallen short. I still haven't given up on them, though, and I never will. Someday they'll cast off that abhorrible "Lovable Losers" nametag and stun the world, and I'll find a way to be right there in the heart of it, cheering for my heroes. And later that night - or more likely, sometime the next morning - I'll be locked in my hotel room crying my damnfool eyes out. ^_^