Trippin’ Baseballs
(Editor’s Note: We’re sorry to encroach on our issue this week, but we ask you’d take the time to read our new Letter from the Editor, which discusses some major changes we hope to undertake here at Burnside. Thank you.)
Road trips are now the underdog of vacations. These days people love resorts, adventure vacations or cruises. But not me. I love a good road trip. The early start (6 am), a cup of coffee and a place to go; it’s a combination I can’t resist.
So when my buddy Mark pitched (pun intended) the idea of a Chicago baseball road trip to me, three cities in four days, I was all ears. Take a good roadie and combine it with a sport I love and I’ll salivate like Pavlov’s dog.
Here’s how it went down.
Thursday, July 24th, 2008- Florida Marlins at Chicago Cubs
I love a good road trip, but I do not love a 5:30 wake-up call. When the alarm went off, the first thought through my head was, “who’s stupid idea was this?” I then remembered that it was mine. But like a long book, if you power through at the beginning there can be dividends in the end, and I would eventually appreciate the early start as we headed towards Chicago.
A week or so earlier we bought some Cubs tickets online, so that we were guaranteed seats. Turns out we were horribly extorted, but hey, live and learn. After checking into our shabby hotel room (extorted again), we killed some time at the ESPN Zone in downtown Chicago before heading up the Red Line towards the Friendly Confines.
I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Up to this point in my life I had watched a lot of baseball, but I had only been to Rogers Centre (Blue Jays) and Safeco Field (Mariners). I am a product of the ‘new-school’ style of stadiums. And Wrigley Field was the single greatest sports moment I have ever experienced live.
We got there nice and early, around five, to watch the Marlins hit BP. So there I stood, 10 rows from home plate, soaking in the energy of the surroundings. The outfield bleachers in left and right were full. Full. FOR BATTING PRACTICE.
The old scoreboard looming in center field, the brick behind home plate, the ivy, the bleachers across the street on Waveland and Sheffield; I could have left after BP and been fully satisfied.
Dan Uggla, second baseman for the Marlins, violently thrashed a few baseballs out onto Waveland Ave. while players mingled with friends and family members that had come to visit. Uggla, whose swing was described by a rival pitcher in an SI article as ‘an absolute porn hack,’ was quickly becoming a player I admired. I don’t even know what that means, but assuming it has to do with how hard he swings, we started referring to him solely as ‘porn hack.’ He holds absolutely nothing back. It’s so hard it’s comical, and therefore, admirable. He’s leaving it all at the plate, and you’ve gotta love that.
The game was finally underway and I was immediately awed by the passion Chicago has for baseball. 40,000+ people who are all wearing some kind of Cubs paraphernalia and who all cheer incessantly at nearly all moments of the game. That’s what I loved about Wrigley: the fans actually watch the game. At other baseball games I’ve been to, 75% of the people in the building couldn’t name the count if asked at any particular point in the game; they’re just there for something to do and for somewhere to drink.
Not at Wrigley. They hang on every pitch, and I’m sure being in first place has something to do with it. The Cubs ended up winning and the whole game was surreal. The seventh innning stretch, which normally puts me to sleep, was electric. When someone started the ‘Let’s Go Cubbies’ chant, it rang 40,000 strong. It was impossible not to be caught up in it. Carlos Marmol clinched the victory and the building erupted into Go, Cubs, Go!, which is sung after the Cubs win, and is now my new favourite song that I don’t know the words to.
Friday, July 25th, 2008- Houston Astros at Milwaukee Brewers
On to Milwaukee. With Wrigley Field being what it is, and Wrigleyville itself being one of my favourite places I’ve ever visited, it would be a tall order for Milwaukee to compare favorably, though it got off to a great start by having a decent hotel room.
One problem with Milwaukee is that they don’t actually want you to find the stadium. There’s an odd lack of signs directing you towards the park. The good thing is that when you do find out how to get there, it is a beautiful new building. Miller Park impresses with its sheer size and physical aesthetics.
We went early again (gotta love BP), and were able to get some dinner in a restaurant in left field with a great view of the Brewers batting practice. After a delicious pulled pork sandwich, we headed to the second deck in left field (the restaurant is below) to catch some BP Bombs. We didn’t get any baseballs but Carlos Lee put on an absolute show, hammering six consecutive swings into our section, prompting the following exchange between myself and a young man of about 12:
Child to me (fornlornly): “I wish he still played for us.”
Me (impressed): “Who is that?”
Child to me (disgusted): “Carlos Lee. You idiot.”
Okay, he didn’t call me an idiot, but his tone implied it, which left Mark in hysterics.
Another plus was getting seats in the second level behind homeplate. I was excited to watch the Brewers, a team of stars barely older than I am, in another stadium I had never attended. I would have been happy with almost any seat, considering our plan was to walk up to the ticket office and the game was nearly sold out. But our seats were amazing and nowhere near as expensive as Chi-town.
The Brewers fans came out in droves, even giving the team a standing ovation when they ran onto the field at the start of the game. After that point however there wasn’t much to cheer about as both teams proceeded to do very little, with the Astros eventually winning 3-1. This game was what we call a snooze-fest.
Saturday, July 26th, 2008- Florida Marlins at Chicago Cubs
Back to Chi-town. After much debate, we decided that we’d at least go up to Wrigleyville and watch the game on television at Harry Caray’s to be a part of the atmosphere. We parked, grabbed a shuttle, and I knew that wasn’t happening. I was going in. Somehow, scalpers- whatever- I was going to watch the game.
We thought had plenty of time, with the game starting at 1:05 (or so I thought). Then we arrived at Wrigley and found out the game started at 12:05. Who starts a baseball game at 12:05? Lunch hasn’t even settled yet. Disgusting.
Despite missing the first inning and a half, we bought standing room tickets and took in an extra inning loss to the Marlins. Canadian Rich Harden struck out 10 Marlins in just five innings. Did I mention he is Canadian?
Considering the loss, I expected a slightly less electric crowd to pile out in the streets, 40,000 strong, but I was wrong. We went to a local establisment that was packed out, shoulder to shoulder.
We walked down to a restaurant and ate dinner in the window, spending most of our time watching a Cubs fan get beat up by a White Sox fan. Six police officers later, I learned that the Friendly Confines are not always quite so friendly. Everyone had been nice to us, remarkably so even, perhaps because we’re from Canada and we’re excited about baseball. A White Sox fan in Wrigleyville does not receive quite the same warm welcome. Just to give you a little heads up.
Sunday, July 27th, 2008- Chicago White Sox at Detroit Tigers
For some reason Mark and I booked hotels in advance for Thursday and Friday, but not for Saturday, assuming we could drive halfway to Detroit and book something in the sticks. Another heads up for you; don’t leave Chicago at 11:00 pm, drive for two hours and expect to find a room. We stopped at about 13 hotels over a span of an hour and a half and every single one was booked solid.
Finally, in the grand ol’ town of Benton Harbour, MI, we lucked into a room at the Howard Johnson. At 3:30 am.
Needless to say, Sunday was off to a bad start.
At 9:30 we were on the road again, heading for Detroit and a Tigers game at Comerica Park. Like normal people, the Tigers play day games at 1:05, so after a few downtown detours (and me rolling down my window to ask a car with a Tigers logo, “we’re lost, can we follow you to Comerica?”) we strolled up to the ticket window at 1:00, looking for anything in the ball park.
We lucked into the last two seats together, the right field bleachers, sixth row from Magglio Ordonez and Jermaine Dye. I’d say pretty easily my favorite tickets on the trip as far as vantage point is concerned. Comerica is a beautiful park, perfectly designed in the ethos of new stadiums. Wrigley is the highlight of the trip because its Wrigley. Comerica Park was a highlight because it’s a great place to watch a baseball game.
And yet the crowd couldn’t compare to Chicago or Milwaukee. Maybe the difference between first place teams and .500 teams, but I’m not sold on that. The White Sox are a hated division rival and the Tigers are only 6.5 games back in the AL Central. There were a lot of people there, but the fans weren’t as passionate about the game. The girl in front of me spent six innings talking on her cell phone (“you saw on me on tv? No, I’m not wearing sunglasses”). Some people didn’t even clap for base hits. The Tigers won, the seats were great, and I loved my time at Comerica despite being sunburnt, exhausted, and out of money.
Mark says the drive home is never as exciting as the drive there, and while I understand where he’s coming from, I disagree. There is something serene about the end of a good trip. The balance between wishing it would never end and knowing I couldn’t possibly keep up the pace. Finding the whole trip exciting anew as I tell my parents about the experience. Rejuvenated by, literally, following around a game I love. Four games, three stadiums, in four days.
I’m already planning another trip. Did you know there’s five teams within five hours of each other in California? Or that it’s only five hours to Cleveland from Toronto? The possibilities are endless. Baseball in the summer, hockey in the winter.
The road trip lives on.
Posted on July 28, 2008 9:12 AM
