The man met my eye.
“So nice everything’s fun again,” he said. Usually I’m the one making uninvited public overtures, addressing strangers, commenting on whatever is going on like a Greek chorus.
I agreed. After 14 months away, at least, it felt great just being on a train. The fact we were heading to a Cubs game was icing on the cake.
Regular readers know that baseball is not ordinarily my idea of fun. But my younger son had said, “We should go to a Cubs game.” A suggestion I promptly ignored, as the savvy parent will do when optional activities involving the expenditure of of time, effort and money are proposed by children. But he said it a second time, cannily attaching a specific. “We should go to the Cubs game Wednesday; they play the Padres.”
My immediate unfiltered thought demonstrates how truly out of the swim I am, baseball-wise.
“That’s an expansion team.” I thought, pouting. Meaning, “not quite worth seeing.” The Padres started playing in 1969. Since then, they’ve won more pennants than the Cubs over the same period (two). They’re the best team in the National League now.
The last Cubs game I attended was the Fourth of July, 2016, for the reason I normally attend games: a pal gave me tickets. This time I bought four good upper deck seats for $45.92 apiece from a season ticket holder friend. I knew it wouldn’t involve him handing over four pasteboard ducats in an envelope. But I didn’t expect to have to download an app (MLB Ballpark) and fiddle with it for an hour. Eventually, utterly bolloxed and certain no relaxation at the ballpark could possibly counterbalance the frustration of doing this, I thrust my phone at my older son who, I kid you not, glanced at it, swiped it once with his thumb, the tickets magically appearing, and handed the phone back. “You need to refresh,” he said. Tell me about it.
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