Thursday, August 16, 2001

Where we'll be sitting, third in a series:

Game number four is also at Fenway Park. Wednesday, September 5, 7:05 p.m. Cleveland Indians vs. Boston Red Sox. Fenway's the only park at which we're seeing two games. It being as tied as it is to baseball history, we figure we should take in as much of it as possible before they knock it down. The seats for this game are in section 36 in the Upper Bleachers. Here's another diagram of our Fenway, from the Red Sox's web site (yet again, the arrow is ours):

Fenway Park

If the view from our seats is anything like what it's supposed to be, we're in dead center field. Good home run territory, good position for surveying the playing field. Add to that the experience of being in the bleachers of the league's oldest ballpark, just feet away from the Green Monster, and these seats earn an overall grade of A-.


Wednesday, August 15, 2001

My lottery fantasies are few but elaborate. One is to bring minor league baseball back to Chicago. I'm very excited about this project. The most likely scenario would be to team with Mike Veeck and Bill Murray to build a small stadium on the West Side. Veeck would be the promoter, Murray would be the spokesman, and I'd be the eccentric owner with the handlebar mustache, bow tie and walking stick hewn of equal parts ivory and vituperation.

Or, we could wait for the Cubs to move to the suburbs and then lease Wrigley Field, turning it into a living museum. Most visitors are so deep under the park's spell they'd hardly notice the Cubs were out and my team (The Crabs? The Whales? The Feds? The Grifters? Daily I wrestle with the name issue.) was in. We'd be a hit.

In any case, it was a matter of course that I would buy us two "Road Trip" scratch-off tickets. Grand Prize is an SUV, which under my value system would be like winning herpes, so I'm pleased to report that I was a loser. Sandy's ticket, however, won $20. Between this and the kindness of strangers, we should have enough gas money to get us to Baltimore and beyond.


Monday, August 13, 2001

You suppose Bob Verdi caught a whiff of my cell phone rant? In yesterday's column he called for bans at ballgames, as there are at Augusta National and finer restaurants.

I'm old enough to remember when you brought a sandwich to the ballpark, or a glove, or a pencil to keep score. That's when the reason for going to the ballpark was to get away from the office. Now you take the office to the ballpark with you.

That's the most ../common excuse anyway: I'm so invaluable, I simply must be available, even between pitches. I don't buy it. The world got along just fine when important people were important enough to take an afternoon off and go to a ballgame without being bothered, or bothering other spectators, by a ringing or vibrating object.

In fact I believe that's still true. Most really important people put their cell phones away when it's time to relax. I say if you're rich enough or influential enough to snag a seat behind the Cubs' dugout at Wrigley Field, act like you belong there or have been there before.



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