Needing a break from the rigors of blogging about the sorry state of American politics, your humble narrator ventured out to the cathedral at the corner of Clark and Addison streets in Chicago to engage in a little mid-afternoon meditation.
As you can tell by the flapping flags atop the historic Wrigley Field scoreboard, it was a warm and blustery day at the friendly confines, and that meant lots of home runs and ensuing frivolity for the gathered Cubs fans. The north side national leaguers are in first place with a handful of games left, so the crowd was already verging on giddy.
My good friend Jim made the journey down from Madison, WI to join us in a late season bit of merry making. The double fisted chap is my brother-in-law Chris, as always keeping things festive.
Jim brought a couple other Illinois refugees down with him from Dairyland. Chris, pictured below, hadn't been to a game since she was a kid, and was soaking up the atmosphere at the ballpark. Liz is a south sider by birth and inclination, so she maintained a low profile in order to protect her White Sox street cred.
Also making a renewed acquaintance with the old ball yard was my good friend George who rediscovered his Cub roots after having strayed into Yankee territory. Maybe he and Lou Piniella are bringing some of that Bronx magic to Wrigleyville.
It was such a nice day that even yours truly was caught cracking a smile ... or at least a smirk. Check back with me when they actually win the whole thing.
It was a banner day for all involved as the Cubbies vanquished the Pirates 13 runs to 8. I'll be back to my usual blog antics tomorrow.