Go Cubs, Go...

Generally speaking, baseball season is a thorn in my side. Considering I rely on the Red Line to get to work and back, and the fact that both Wrigley Field and U.S. Cellular Field are located along that route, the six months between April and October are a commuting nightmare. Even though I don't particularly care about the sport, I have to track the schedules of both the Cubs and the Sox so that I don't inadvertently attempt to take the train on a game day. Instead, I have to negotiate a complicated and much lengthier system of bus transfers to travel the measly three miles back to my humble abode. It's frustrating.

Still, ambivalent as I am about the sport, and much as it's impact on my commute vexes me, there is a certain je ne sais quoi about attending games at Wrigley Field. As I've explored in the past, I think there's something about the Chicagocana of it all that appeals to me. So when Dad offered me a set of tickets to tonight's game versus the D.C. Nationals, I decided to take him up on it, and drag along some of my friends for good measure.

Of course, I had to offer a ticket to Mireya, the most loyal Cubs fan that I know. There was no way she could resist the chance to go to her first game of the year, even if she had to cut class to do so. Half of the fun of going to a game with her is basking in her infectious enthusiam, considering the fact that I'm convinced baseball is the world's second most boring sport, after golf.

Sadly, Mireya informed me that Milton Bradley, previously one of the three Cubs players whose names I can remember, was traded to the Seattle Mariners, so now I'm down to just knowing Ryan Theriot and Alfonso Soriano. I may have no idea whether or not he's actually any good, but Soriano's choice of hosiery still makes him my favorite player.

I also brought along Travis and Natasha, neither of whom had been to a Cubs game since they moved to Chicago. Considering they live on the North Side, I think a game at Wrigley is pretty much a mandatory experience.

Unfortunately, attending a night game in April might possibly be an experience left to more dedicated fans than myself. As the temperature plummeted from the daytime high in the sixties to a bone-chilling "feels like" reading of 42 degrees, we were forced to huddle together for warmth. It wasn't quite as bad as the time I stood outside waiting for the Andrew Bird concert in December, but it was still damn chilly. I should have worn more layers...

I'm not sure why I get such a kick out of it when they rake the sand every three innings, but I find it strangely amusing. It's on par with my strange fascination with the Zambonis at ice-skating events. I really don't have any explanation for it, other than my general quirkiness.

Did I mention it was brisk outside? Natasha, Mireya and I spent most of the game from the fifth inning onwards cuddled up and drinking hot chocolate, trying to stave off the bone-penetrating cold. Then the game went into extra-innings.

Ultimately, the Cubs were victorious, for my third consecutive game in a row, which the very superstituous Mireya says means that it's now acceptable for us to regularly attend games together. I think I might hold off on that until the weather warms up, however. I'm not a hardcore enough fan to sit through another frigid night game. I honestly don't know how the Bears fans do it. Those people must be completely nuts...

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