Game 1: Cubs v. Nationals

Cubs Opening Weekend in Wrigleyville is almost impossible to write about; I need to show you. You need to see the way the city wakes up, the way the people mill about in small clusters, wearing blue t-shirts and starry eyes, a cup of beer in one hand and hope in their hearts. There's still a chance, they seem to say. We could win it all this year. You need to be there to smell the rainy streets, to feel the brisk air and be bundled from head to toe in warm, soft clothes that will get you through nine innings. You need to stand beneath the red marquee that welcomes you to Opening Weekend, and you should definitely get a picture with all your friends. If you were there, you might be able to feel what I feel, the way my heart races as the gates are about to open, you need to follow me down to the baseline where I wait hungrily, hoping a player stops and signs an autograph and poses for a photo. You would hear Wayne Messemer sing the National Anthem. You would cheer at the first out and you would cheer at the first Cubs hit. You would know what it means to be alive.

My first game was not Opening Day, for I am not a millionaire. My baseball companion Angela had gone out to Wrigley after the game in the hopes of meeting some of the players. Of course, she did. I was jealous. So I arrived Saturday, April 7, at 10 a.m. in anticipation for the 1:05 start.

I love Wrigley. I love it more than any words could ever describe. And here I stood beneath a sign filled with players' pictures, players I didn't recognize. I had seen LaHair at the end of the past season, and he had won a game. I had told him, "We won by a LaHair!" But he had only smiled weakly and gotten in his truck and walked away. I also recognized Carlos Marmol, but he had never impressed me much. All I knew of David DeJesus was that Angela's frantic call had mentioned, "HE'S A MOOOOODELLLLLL!!!!"

Once in the park, I went over to the  visitor's bullpen where Edwin Jackson was practicing. I had been a big fan of his when he was on the White Sox.

I didn't call anyone over to try to get autographs, which is weird for me. I have this streak of seven years going to games and getting autographs I didn't want to break. But it was early in the season and I will still getting my field legs.

I got my first glimpse of fan-favorite Reed Johnson.

And then--there he was. The one and only Stephen Strasburg, freshly healed from his Tommy John surgery. I got a bunch of pictures of him, but sadly this one is the best.

My heart immediately soared when I caught a glimpse of my favorite player, Darwin Barney.

Darwin had always been pretty great to me and Angela.

I really did feel welcomed to my favorite place ever.

And here is something new--An LCD screen. From the controversy surrounding it, I thought it would be an enormous eyesore. But it was small and adorable.

Here are some adorable brothers enjoying their first game and hoping a National would come by and sign. And actually they were fighting the entire time.

A lot of people don't know this, but the Miller advertisement seen in the park changes every time a new team comes to town. I always take a photo. Some of them are pretty creative.

I'm pretty sure I got a few autographs, but after batting practice I went over to the Cubs side. Angela and I were pretty pumped to be at our first game of the year.

I always find Geovany Soto's catching gear robotic and awesome.

I got my first glimpse of one of my favorite Cubs, Marlon Byrd.

Then I saw Joe Mather. Later in my season, Joe Mather would prove to play an important part. But at this time, he was an unknown handsome man.

 The new screen showed the day's matchup.

Here's Starlin Castro, who everyone just thinks is the salvation of the Cubs, being harassed by Byrd.

Here I also got my first glimpse of the man who would become my favorite player--Steve Clevenger.

Also, Alfonso Soriano, who I had pretty much no use for. He would prove me wrong.

Starlin Castro

Now, Angela had been to Cubs Convention, and she knew EVERYONE on the team. She called Steve Clevenger over and they began to talk.

I liked him immediately. For one, he was awesome to Angela and acted like they were best friends.

 For two, he was funny and gracious and let us ask him a thousand questions. This is the first of many many many pictures we took together.

The game was about to start. Garza was finishing warmups.

I always love when the pitcher and the catcher are done warming and walk back together.

 The infamous rookie backpack, now being worn by Lendy Castillo.

 Joe Mather, nice guy always.

Now the game was underway. I got my first glimpse of the Nationals, I team I secretly rooted for if they were playing anyone but the Cubs. Strasburg looks to be Cy Young, Jr., and I had been following Bryce Harper, though not in the majors yet. I also liked many of the players, particularly Ryan Zimmerman, who I affectionately refer to as Zims.

The first run came when Joe Mather, who, like I said, I would grow to adore, scored on a wild Gio pitch.

I like to take a picture of the scoreboard when the Cubs are winning, because you never know how long it will last.

Oh, and here's vendor Mike. He's a colorful creature. You'll see him outside as well, selling at a stand right by the Ron Santo statue.

Anyway, in the fourth inning, Adam LaRoche homered for two runs. But Reed Johnson answered back with a two-run triple, because, let's face it, he's a bo$$.

Then Mather (love) singled to bring home Johnson.

We were pretty excited. Could our first game be a win? We thought yes. We're up 4-2, and it's the fifth inning, and life is good.

Well, things got hairy after Garza left.

First Rafael Dolis came in. Now, I really enjoy Rafael, or as I like to call him, Raffle Ticket. And he didn't give up any runs.

Anyway, seventh inning stretch brought old pal Jody Davis.

Kerry Wood came on in the 8th. Welp.

Now, understand that I am a super-big Kerry Wood fan. But also understand that after him, we resorted to Marmol.

By the bottom of the ninth inning, we were down 7-4. Shawn Camp also contributed, but I really blame Marmol. Shawn Camp was a welcome sight and would prove to be a great hold man for the Cubs.

I would also like to take this time to introduce you to Danny. He is the best usher at Wrigley.

 And the guy sitting on the far left is Paco. He works security for the visitor's bullpen. He's great.

I want to take this opportunity to show you some of the many faces of David DeJesus.

Okay, done.

Another bright spot in the game involved sitting next to this attractive gentleman visiting from Spain. We became good friends. That's what I love about baseball. Even if I go alone, I leave with friends.

Ian Stewart entered the game for Joe Mather. Ian and I have a complicated history.

 Something to remember about Angela is that she started the season in love with Anthony Rizzo. He didn't start the season with the team but he comes later--don't worry.

 And I swear Chris Martin from Coldplay was there!

Well, try as they might, they didn't win. But I did get to see my old friend Blake DeWitt.

So they lost, 7-4. But the good news is, they didn't lose many others that Angela and I attended.



After the game, Angela and I waited inside for autos and meet and greets. First out was the fabulous Ryan Dempster. I got some pictures of him that aren't creepy, but this one is my favorite

Then out came Carlos Marmol.

I saw this guy earlier, and I thought, he looks like he could be related to Matt Garza. Turns out it was his bro.

Steve signed again. Nicest guy in baseball.

Meanwhile, across the street this guy had a bullhorn out of this window and he was saying obscene things about the Cubs. Why would you live in Wrigleyville if you feel that way?

Chris Volstad appears to be wearing makeup.

And ruggedly handsome but ultimately doomed Blake DeWitt signed.

If you are a facebook friend, all my photos from this game can be seen at:

http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10150665690608786&l=ab18a28667#!/media/set/?set=a.10150665681878786.399183.511233785&type=3&l=ab18a28667

Prelude to a season

The 2012 Cubs were made up of veterans who were past their primes and young, unproven players who would probably not be making a career of baseball. Sports radio jockeys referred to them as a AAA team, and Sox fans joked about the Cubs magic number to reach 100 losses on the season. Cubs fans stopped coming to Wrigley Field, and, for the first time in decades, the famous bleacher seats were available for purchase at rates well below the retail value. Season ticket holders tried to unload their tickets, preferring to take a monetary loss rather than to drag themselves to yet another game.

But there were a few of us who would live and die with the team, whose veins ran with Cubbie-blue blood, who never lost hope that each game could end with raising the W flag. And we were rewarded with bright spots, including a resurgence in the career of 36-year old Alfonso Soriano, who would finish the season with more than 30 home runs and over 100 RBIs.

And then there was talk of a savior for the team, the pressure to become the next Babe Ruth, with the young Anthony Rizzo. Fans and critics cried for him as early as spring training, so when he was called up from AAA shortly before the All-Star break, and when he hit an RBI double to win the game in his first Cubs appearance, Cubs fans began to believe again, at least for a little while.

There was also the quietly-perfect second baseman Darwin Barney, who broke a few errorless streaks without flash, his incessant gum-chewing more noticeable than his basket-grabs and double-plays. When his errorless streak ended on a hot September night in Arizona, the city of Chicago would weep on both sides of town, because it was impossible not to root for Barney.

And David DeJesus, the lead-off man who was as good as he was beautiful, skilled solidly in every aspect of the game, but not in one skill so great as to be outstanding, had an on-base percentage higher than anyone on the team. One of the most underrated players of his day, DeJesus quietly flew under the radar on the field and off the field, as he and his otherworldly-beautiful wife Kimberly spent countless hours in charitable endeavors. And each game he started on one knee, praying to a God who had blessed him with a beautiful life and a beautiful heart.

Ultimately, this team did not win any significant awards. But those boys of summer saved the life and revitalized the heart of a woman without hope. I started that season with nothing to live for and I ended it believing again.

In my eyes, these boys did something bigger than win a World Series, more important than setting records. They represented everything that is beautiful about baseball. This is their story, and mine.

Fatigue

I am tired, but I move on.

I spend a great deal of time, and a large portion of my life, believing what other people say about me. I think I confuse healthy humility with self-abasement. I am now looking at the situation without emotion and fear being the only guiding factors.

I am standing up for myself for the first time. I am terrified, I am tired, and I am lonely. But I must go down with my head held high, rather than cowering in a corner.

It's difficult. I want it to be clear that I am not perfect, not without mistakes. But I also want to be clear that I will not be a doormat.

I don't know if I have achieved that medium. I don't know if I can stay strong. But I will certainly try.

If—

By Rudyard Kipling 1865–1936 Rudyard Kipling

(‘Brother Square-Toes’—Rewards and Fairies)

 

If you can keep your head when all about you   

    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

    But make allowance for their doubting too;   

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;   

    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

    And treat those two impostors just the same;   

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

    And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   

    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

    If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   

    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

Opening day

Opening day and hope is alive and well in the hearts of pretty much every baseball fan. Sure, the Cubs lost today, but it's just one game.

Here's to new beginnings here and everywhere. I go to my first game of the year Sunday, Cubs v. Pirates. There will be more to come, I promise.