Flashback 2012: Stealing bases? Just buy them

Not a bad view from the former section 219 in 2012. 

     April, warmer weather, finally, and a man's thoughts turn to baseball. Well, some men. Not me. That ship has sailed. Whatever residual fandom is left has boiled down to a single, quivering neuron that annually squeaks. "Maybe this year you should take in a game at Wrigley." Where all my happy memories are of: a) walking up to the park along Addison from the Red Line b) seeing that expanse of green as you rise from inside a tunnel and c) biting into a warm, moist Vienna frank. 

     Notice what's missing? The actual baseball part. Players playing the game. Never a priority. Nor a memory. I couldn't recall a single play at Wrigley if you put a gun to my head. But I do still go, every few years, usually squiring visitors, as in the story below. I just like the ballpark.

     A little update. The dog that cost $5 in 2012 will now set you back at least $9. Game-used bases cost $100 more than 14 years ago. You can also buy infield dirt for $20. The only thing the same is that you could have bought the cheapest tickets to Friday's game against the Pirates on Stubhub for $8. There is no section 219 anymore — it goes from 218 to 220, thanks to a re-numbering to squeeze in more luxury boxes — but with an assist from Cubs maven Bill Savage, we know that the old 219 would be around 215 today, where tickets were going for $11 on game day. (Perhaps an unfair comparison, as game day tickets tend to plunge).

     The really good news is that kids under 13 — the first thousand to get a wrist band anyway — can still run the bases for free at Wrigley after most Sunday games. 

     No need to steal second base anymore. You can just buy it.
     The ballplayers can’t, of course. They still get to second base the old fashioned way. But now, in our let’s-monetize-everything world, you can skip all those years of honing your batting skills and, for $250, purchase second base ­— or first, or third ­­— used during a game at Wrigley Field. Pay for the base beforehand in the concourse behind home plate; it’ll be swapped out with a fresh base after the fifth inning and delivered to your seat.
     At U.S. Cellular Field, you can’t buy a base, but you can pay to be the guy swapping them out, or dragging the infield, or sitting in the dugout during batting practice, or having dinner with Jerry Reinsdorf (though if they really wanted to clean up, they should sell the chance not to eat with Reinsdorf).
     Economics aside, Sunday was still a beautiful day for baseball, on my first visit to Wrigley in years, squiring around my cousin Harry from Boston and his family. As regular readers know, I’m the sort who, left to my own devices, shuns sporting events. But I am a genial host, and Harry suggested we might take in a game, the way people speculate about travel to Mars — as a remote, wouldn’t-it-be-something possibility, colored by his experience trying to get into Fenway Park, where you must plan to spend a fortune to buy the precious tickets passed from hand to hand, generation to generation.

Section 219 is now gone.

     Not so at Wrigley. Jump online the day before, eight tickets in section 219 — back under the upper deck, but with a great view of the field — for $33 apiece, plus change. I hate to be one of those columnists who discover regular life and starts gibbering in amazement. But I was taken aback by how cheaply you can get into Wrigley, thanks to dynamic ticket pricing. You can get seats for as low as $8, to see scrub “bronze” level teams like the Brewers or the Astros — the same ticket would cost you $29 to see the Red Sox or Cardinals.
     This isn’t to suggest things are inexpensive at Wrigley. Far from it. A non-jumbo hot dog costs $5. My wife went for a cup of vegetable sticks, a hummus-like dip paste, and a small bottle of water, for — place your guesses ­— $10.75.
     Someone has to pay for those player salaries, though judging from this year’s lineup, Cubs owner Tom Ricketts is not yet coughing up the elephant dollars for superstars. While no baseball expert — the thought “So Mark Grace isn’t here anymore?” popped into mind early in the game — I’ll admit, I didn’t recognize any of the players’ names. Brian LaHair? Darwin Barney? They seemed to radiate a deep, Joe Shlabotnik-type obscurity. Not entirely a bad thing. There was a certain joy, a purity in seeing two teams of complete nonentities ­— the Washington Nationals are not exactly the 1927 Yankees either ­­— battle it out in a hard-fought game. The Cubs won, so maybe it’s a building year. 

Back when there was a 219 (Image courtesy
of the Bill Savage Collection)

     I sat back, munched peanuts, tossed the shells at my feet, and enjoyed my afternoon at the ballpark. Even my older son looked up from reading Jane Eyre from time to time to glance at what was happening on the field.
     After the game, I swung by the base-selling table behind home plate, and found they sold two bases to a pair of poor souls with more money than sense, plus one from the day before for $200. Although that might be harsh; the most surprising thing about the base-vending is, judging by mark-up, the bases are one of the bigger values at Wrigley, since a new base costs about $150 online.
     After the game, the Cubs invited kids to go down and run the bases. Of course, Harry’s girls ­— 7 and 10 — were eager to do it, but I was surprised when my two surly teens joined them, big happy grins on their faces. My wife thought being on the field was magical, and even though I had been there before, I admit that just laying eyes on Wrigley Field is worth a visit. The fact that they also put on a game is an added bonus. Maybe I shouldn’t give them ideas, but there was no extra, kids-running-the-bases fee, which is ironic, because that was the most valuable part of the whole day.
       — Originally published April 11, 2012