Wrigley Where the Real Game is Off the Field

Let me state at the outset of this new season. I am a fair-weather Cub fan. And, frankly, proud of it. I suffer enough pain in real life to invite for any more by living and dying with my team's 100-year battle against the gods of destiny...!

This confession does not, however, keep me from going to gloriously green Wrigley. Here where the game off the field is usually far more fascinating than the one on. Because these players don't realize they're being watched. What's more, they don't even realize they're performing in uniform. Let me explain.....

First, come those waves of libidinous humanity lapping against the walls of the friendly confines. These are the tight-dressed blondes and their would-be partners gaggling inside the surrounding pubs. Wading through these noisy enclaves to get to the field is an adventure in itself. Especially for old, well-tamed husbands. Spectacular necklines plunging down almost to the point where unbelievable tights begin inching up, these off-duty feminists keep the on-duty hunters thinking anything but pennants!

Next come the ticket-takers and aisle-ushers. The first, a stoic study in I-got-this-job-through-my-alderman indifference; the second, uniformed platoons of failed lives at home now at last with a piece of power before the world. Can you find me a player on the field with any greater complexity to such character-studies!

The vendors are, of course, the featured players in this off-field game. Each playing their part with a different brand of gusto -- some yapping with toothless grins, others intimidating with barking demands -- but all straight out of central-casting which auditions only the city's most incredibly unique!

Now come the stars of this game -- those amazing fans around you. Amazing because most of them are in attendance for almost anything you can think of besides baseball. Grisly old-timers bathing in the sun of old memories together...young parents working hard to feed their fidgeting offspring...downtown execs here to swap stories and close deals...the silver-ladies who bussed in from Appleton for some good time together, even with the distraction of those teams down there...oh, and the blondes from the surrounding pubs here criss-crossing the aisles to the impressed whistles of the boys-of-summer in the stands whose baseball card collections no longer seem quite so interesting!

Rounding out this team of unpaid players are the cops and the sellers in the food booths. Chicago's finest at Wrigley are usually not chosen for their marksmanship or their athletic prowess. There's a place for that in our city streets, but here they usually come in much thicker sizes. Wrigley is a nice assignment for the nicer types, and so when they're not swapping Mayor jokes, they're helping lost kids believe there really are Officer Friendlies in our town. As for the booth sellers, one in a hundred has a smile for you. The other 99 are here to prove there's nothing friendly about their food, so pay up and move on, pal!

The next day I usually read about the relentless fastballs and spectacular catches I missed. I simply can't help myself. The game off the field is just so damn interesting. What's more, for me it's always a win. Can you match that record, Lou.....?