It’s been a stressful few days, but our Cubs tickets are bought. I’ve spent the last five days endlessly dialing ticket offices and re-loading the online ticket site, in a seemingly futile effort to secure tickets to a game. Now finally, after widening our target window for travel and game selection, I got Cubs tickets for the family and we’ll in the Friendly Confines of Wrigley Field this summer!
What has become of me? A few short years ago, I couldn’t give a flying f*#! about baseball. Seasons could start and end, with me only barely aware. Now I’m counting days until tickets go on sale, I know when Opening Day is, and I’m actually aware of some general comings and goings on different team rosters. Don’t misunderstand, I’m no encyclopedic sports fanatic or anything. But I guess I’m changing, because I’ve discovered an interest in the game I have had since I was a little leaguer. I’ll be 40 by the time our Cubs game this summer roles around, and I know I’ll enjoy it more than I would have as a kid. I will no longer watch the pros with the little leaguer’s dream of growing up to be one of them one day. I will instead be older than most of the players on the field, and will enjoy the satisfaction of knowing that each beer I drink is helping each of them earn more in that single game than I might earn over many years of work. Wow, it may take several beers to take the sting out of that reality.