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11-09-2009 One of my best days ever started off in a manner uncharacteristic of most good days - with my alarm clock blaring at me. Probably around 5:30AM. It was June 21st, 2008. A Saturday. It's unusual that anything good happens after your alarm clock orders you to get out of bed, but I was definitely excited to be waking up early this day. I quickly showered up, threw down some breakfast, grabbed my overnight bag, and hit the road. In just over two hours, I was heading north on Lake Shore Drive, approaching the site where the focal point of the day was scheduled to take place - Wrigley Field. Now you're starting to see why I didn't mind leaving my bed so early on a Saturday. At around 8:30, I hopped in line for the left field bleachers. The game was a noon start, but there were already about 40 people between me and the gates. Cubs/Sox - crosstown rivals duking it out. We weren't the only people who had this game circled on our calendar for months. Although I arrived solo, the rest of the gang would soon descend on the North Side and join me. The man of the hour was one of my best friends, Phil, who had precious little time left as a bachelor. This day was his send-off. Our remaining partners in crime were Phil's two older brothers, Chris and Andy, and another friend, Eric. Of the five of us, 100% of us were hoping that the rain would hold off for the day. 80% of were hoping for a Cubs victory. Only Eric (who showed up in a Jose Valentin jersey of all things) was a White Sox fan, which I learned that very morning. I start to tell you this story for a good reason. Not just to ramble on about a Cubs game, but to give proper respect to the importance of sports in our lives. I get discouraged when some of the people who should be the biggest proponents of sports do their best to downplay them any time they have the opportunity. Who are these people? Sports anchors. That's right, the very ones we turn to every day to narrate those highlights. And I'll tell you why. Any time there is a national tragedy, any time an athlete sustains a serious injury or dies, sportscasters are the first to take time to address a story that "puts things in perspective." I'm tired of sports getting a bad rap. I'm tired of sports anchors acting like they are second class citizens to news anchors who deliver "real stories." Tragedies do bring people together. Accidents, deaths, disasters, all make people take stock of their lives and be thankful for what they have. But sports bring people together too - for good reasons. Sports help us heal. Sports helped our nation recover from events like World War II and 9/11. That day in June, five guys who lived in three states got together for a baseball game. (Well, and for Phil. Sorry, buddy.) And those rains we were hoping would hold off? They didn't. We five got poured on together, but only briefly. After that, the sun came out and dried us all off. Luckily, there was beer around so we didn't get too dry. The whole day was tenatively balanced. Much like the weather, every time something looked like it could spoil our fun, I believe the collective will of the group swung the Good Times Meter back to the positive. Take the rest of the game itself. Things looked grim in the top of the 4th when Andy and I went to buy another round for the group. The Cubs were down 4-1. But I told him, "Don't worry. Comeback wins are the best." And then, just as the sky had opened up earlier, the Cubs bats broke loose in the bottom of the inning. Jimmy Edmonds, whose '08 season probably deserves its own column, went back-to-back with Fontenot, and hit another homer in the same inning, only to have Lou pull Fontenot for a pitch hitter! Thus, the fans missed out on the chance to see two guys go back-to-back twice in the same inning. Nine runs later, both the game and the immortality of the day seemed to be all but locked up. Even Eric spilling a beer didn't slow us down any. We all just poured part of ours into his empty cup. (Life was so simple before H1N1...) Later that night, we decided to eat at Ditka's restaurant. Again, there was an attempt by the fates to sabotage us. It seemed our cab driver knew nothing of Da Coach... or Da English Language. Never outside of a Saturday Night Live sketch have you heard so many people say "Ditka" so many times. Fast, slow, letter-by-letter, it didn't matter. It was like this cabbie had a bad meal there and vowed never to return. Or even worse, maybe he was a Packer fan. Whatever the case, one of our group knew how to get there and had to navigate our cursed yellow jalopy the outrageously painful 12 blocks to our destination. Yes, it was only about 12 blocks away. Oh, and did I mention the cab had GPS? Because it totally did. But again, did that frustration get us down? Not a chance. After a very short wait at Ditka's, they told us we would be seated upstairs. So up we went. The upstairs hostess greeted us by saying, "Your table isn't quite ready yet, but if you'd like to meet the coach, he's over at the bar." It's not often that I am star-struck by sports figures. But this was The Coach. THE Coach. The man who, when I was seven years old, I saw carried off the field of the Super Bowl by the greatest football team ever assembled. That coach was here? The one I had named multiple fantasy football teams after? Yes, that coach. I spun around, found Phil, grabbed him by the shoulder, and nearly dragged him over to the bar while telling him, "Uh, we're gonna go talk to the coach. He's HERE." I introduced Phil to Iron Mike and told him all about how this was Phil's bachelor party. You know what - da Coach didn't care. But we really didn't care that he didn't care. It was still wonderful. We all agreed that the meal at Ditka's was one of the best any of us had ever had. It was tough for things to get any better from that point, so we just spent the rest of the evening reflecting on the events of the day as if we were recollecting them years later. To finish the night, we poured into an Irish pub and played pool in its funny-smelling basement. We caught replays of the game an inordinate number of times during the rest of the night, which pissed off Eric and thrilled the rest of us to no end. When we got back to our hotel room and all finally collapsed in various heeps, we turned on the TV to find the game being replayed in its entirety. Thank you, Comcast. Falling asleep surrounded by the event that brought us together provided a perfect bookend to the day. You call me heartless, or you can call me realistic. Sports do have a prominent place in our society and our lives. Think of how sports have impacted your friendships and relationships. Think of the memories you wouldn't have without sports. We gather together for fantasy drafts, which many find to be the most enjoyable part of the whole season. I say that's because of the camaraderie. We bond while watching games together - in our homes, in bars, or in stadiums. We debate the best teams, players, and decisions. Together, we interact because of sports. Together. Have fun! -T |
Inside My Brain