Last summer I got serious about my bucket list goal of visiting every major league baseball stadium with a seven day, seven game, six city, and ten baseball team trip beginning in New York City winding west finishing in Cleveland before driving home to Chicagoland. In all last year, I attended ten ballgames and watched one half of the teams in the MLB. I finished the 2022 season having seen 20 of the 30 present day ballparks.
I love sports. Football is my favorite sport, followed closely by baseball and auto racing, though auto racing does not get my interest as much it once did. The truth is that I enjoy just about any kind of competition.
Last week, I was invited to go to the White Sox game and tailgate with a group of men. I knew one of the men, Mark a teacher at my school; the other two were teachers in my district from other schools I didn’t know. The four men go to a White Sox game at least once a year and tailgate; they even travel to see an NFL game together. I joined because, Kip, one of the men, was sick, he has ALS and couldn’t attend. We had a good time, but for the entire trip, I was Kip. The trip was a ritual of sorts – getting ready, driving downtown, the seats in the van – I sat in Kip’s seat, parking in the same spot, setting up, cooking, eating, picking up, even to playing a game of beanbag toss. I had a good time, but the Sox lost.
On the way out of the ballpark one of the guys remarked,
“You know, every time we come, they lose. Maybe we shouldn’t come as a group!”
“Nah, that’s not it, the Sox suck. The pitcher gave it away today.”
It’s been a loonnnnnggg time. This morning, I woke up on the couch. It’s where I fell asleep in the middle of the night when Ivy began to bark, yowl, and whine. She wanted out, so I crawled out of bed and went downstairs only to fall asleep on the couch after I let her in. I decided it was easier to stay downstairs than go back up and covered up with Ivy snuggling in a ball at my feet. Hours later, as night slid into early morning, the pitter-patter of rain woke me and I heard a rumble of thunder. It was time to get up and get going, and Ivy wanted out. Continue reading Saturday morning, late April→