HEADING INTO WRIGLEY: The Seventeen Second Video

SHOOTING UP THE CITY: Images from the streets of Chicago

Being from Maine, it’s not everyday you see buildings that are more than four stories, so I had to take a prototypical “Look how big the buildings is…” shot.

People in the hotel lobby wondered, as many people often do, what the hell i was taking a picture of. That’s the way I like to keep it–mysterious. I can handle being seen as weird if it means ending up with an interesting picture.

I wanted to capture a Chicago pizza reference along with a reflection of the city. The Pope walking along the sidewalk on his cell phone was an added bonus.

I love it when it rains in the city. At least I do when a camera is within reach and there is a bright yellow school bus and a wet sidewalk to provide a healthy reflection.

Chicago is filled with flowers. Some, like these, were orange while others were yellow and white. (That is what happens when I have no idea what to write for a caption).

Nothing like being stuck in a thunderstorm stuffed on Chinese food, and not being able to resist the urge to take photos in the middle of the street.

IT’S GONNA HAPPEN…PROBABLY SOMETIME: The Mantra of the Cubs Fan

We had plenty of time to soak up the Wrigley Field atmosphere, or at least I thought we did. It was an hour before game time and people were already heading into the stadium in droves. I could hear people cheering inside. Outside the park scalpers cries got more desperate, and I realized the game was starting at 1:20 and not at 2:20 as I had read. Apparently, this country is now broken into separate time zones and conveniently each zone has a different time, so when I read on mlb.com that the game starts as 2:20 it really means 1:20 when you’re on the sidewalk outside Wrigley Field wondering what the hell is the big rush to get inside the park.

This shows the view from our seats. We scored the tickets via craigslist, from a guy named Tom who was there with his dad. It worked out well, because besides having tickets close to the field for a day game, we got to get their outlook on the stadium their team. We learned things like when the fabled ivy on the outfield walls becomes green, the location of local pizza joints and famous post game pubs, the stature of the Cubs farm system and other gems that are of utmost importance in our planet’s troubled times. We also had two older gentlemen ushers that sat beside us in alternating shifts, both named Bob. They provided the history and the “I was sitting here when…” stories.

Wrigley lived up to it’s sterling reputation as one of baseball’s holy sites. The sun was out. The Cubbies were beating up on the Mets. The bleacher bums were taunting all that moved (even themselves at times). As a side note, my next trip to Wrigley will include a visit to the famed general admission bleachers. My favorite part was seeing people in the right field bleachers chanting  to the people in the left field bleachers “Left field sucks, left field sucks!” to the echoing chorus of “Right field sucks!” volleyed back by the left field crowd.

What struck me was the vibe in the stadium as we were herded out to the streets after the game after the Cubs absolutely spanked the Mets. The phrase ‘World Series’ was muttered consistently from excited Cubs fans. They have every right to believe it. After one hundred years of title-less campaigns they have every reason to be pessimistic but on a sunny day when the Cubbies win and lead the division and there’s no reason not to believe it because someday it is bound to happen. Right?

NORTHEASTERN ILLINOIS’ FINEST CITY: Chicago

April vacation. Time to head out somewhere–anywhere. It had to be a place I have not yet been but also have some point of interest to draw me in. Never have I been to Lubbock, Texas, but I am confident that will never change, for what the hell would draw me down to Lubbock?

Chicago is a far different matter. I had flown into O’Hare and Midway airports many times and have grazed Chicago on highways going cross country but I really hadn’t experienced Chicago. It was time to change that. The best way to change most of life’s situations is to buy a plane ticket.

My amigo Mike (another teacher) planned out (very loosely) our voyage to the Middle West and Chicago. It was decided early on that since all the area Major League Baseball teams were playing home games during our stay that baseball would be the central theme of the trip. Seemed perfect; middle of America, three MLB baseball teams within an hour and a half of each other, and venues that were rumored to have passionate fans.

The goal was to absorb the sights, sounds and overall vibe of each ballpark. First, though, we needed to re-establish our roots in the promised land of baseball, Fenway Park ,and take in a game. You know you are one obnoxiously self-righteous baseball fan when you refer to a three-square block tract of land in Boston where you cheer for a baseball team with terms like ‘holy land’ and ‘Mecca’ and ‘the promised land’.

Once we established the parameters for a good day at the park we could then head to Logan Airport and fly to Chicago. We were ready to tackle Wrigley Field, Miller Park in Milwaukee, and even the parking garage known as Comiskey Park.

What follows will be a collection of photographs and reflections from the trip.