Hope Springs Eternal...
It's 60something in Chicago today. The wind is whipping a little bit, but it still feels like a heatwave after the crap we've been enduring since last October. Decided to hop on the bike and take a ride. For some reason, I just felt compelled to ride south. (Of course, this would bite me in the ass as I slogged back north to finish up)
What better destination the day baseball season starts than US Cellular Field? The place was abuzz with activity. The producers' trailer was in back with the doors wide open, getting ready to bring you all the fun with Hawk and DJ all season long. The players' lot was chock full of SUVs with dealer license plates, so I'm guessing there must have been some kind of team meeting going on. Tons of pimply young kids and crusty old men with ponytails were heading in through the employee entrance, so the Sportservice staff must have had their team meeting as well.
Rode up to 32nd Street and cut back east. Ran into Jimbo of Jimbo's fame, nattily dressed as always in his dago tee and beret as he put plastic tables and chairs out in anticipation of big drunken crowds on his "patio" tomorrow.
Passed by St. Jerome's, where the Vatican flag out front was draped with black. Parishoners yelled to each other in Croatian as they headed to their cars.
24 hours and a few minutes from now, Mark Buehrle will set, wind, and unleash his first cutter of the season. I'm not sure how I feel about the Sox this year--I think the chemistry's going to be a lot better but the power is going to be a lot worse--but I am sure that I'm ready for baseball season.
Tomorrow we'll see the red white and blue opening day bunting, hear the strains of John Fogerty's "Centerfield." The parking lots will be filled with the smell of brats and sazziges, cooking on grills manned by folks playing baseball hooky. There's new grass on the field kids. Let's play ball.
It's 60something in Chicago today. The wind is whipping a little bit, but it still feels like a heatwave after the crap we've been enduring since last October. Decided to hop on the bike and take a ride. For some reason, I just felt compelled to ride south. (Of course, this would bite me in the ass as I slogged back north to finish up)
What better destination the day baseball season starts than US Cellular Field? The place was abuzz with activity. The producers' trailer was in back with the doors wide open, getting ready to bring you all the fun with Hawk and DJ all season long. The players' lot was chock full of SUVs with dealer license plates, so I'm guessing there must have been some kind of team meeting going on. Tons of pimply young kids and crusty old men with ponytails were heading in through the employee entrance, so the Sportservice staff must have had their team meeting as well.
Rode up to 32nd Street and cut back east. Ran into Jimbo of Jimbo's fame, nattily dressed as always in his dago tee and beret as he put plastic tables and chairs out in anticipation of big drunken crowds on his "patio" tomorrow.
Passed by St. Jerome's, where the Vatican flag out front was draped with black. Parishoners yelled to each other in Croatian as they headed to their cars.
24 hours and a few minutes from now, Mark Buehrle will set, wind, and unleash his first cutter of the season. I'm not sure how I feel about the Sox this year--I think the chemistry's going to be a lot better but the power is going to be a lot worse--but I am sure that I'm ready for baseball season.
Tomorrow we'll see the red white and blue opening day bunting, hear the strains of John Fogerty's "Centerfield." The parking lots will be filled with the smell of brats and sazziges, cooking on grills manned by folks playing baseball hooky. There's new grass on the field kids. Let's play ball.
<< Home