Watching a game on opening day is a rare joy. It's even more rare when you can watch two of the original franchises in the sport play in one of the oldest parks.
Admittedly, the two teams in question -- Cubs and Pirates -- are not really among the most competitive these days, but they are both blessed with long and very familiar traditions. And the mere site of them taking the field this afternoon on the north side connects today with 110 (or more) opening days past.
The pageantry at Wrigley Field was beautifully understated. A relatively simple rendition of GBA was followed by a delightfully restrained SSB, both accompanied by the distinctive warble of a truly classic ballpark organ. The inevitable giant flag wasn't actually as absurdly gigantic as we've become accustomed to. It was just nicely large. (Size doesn't matter.)
Ron Santo's family threw out a pitch. A kid picked randomly from the stands threw out a pitch. Robert Redford threw out a pitch. The umps had their photo taken at home plate.
Then it was all game. The place was packed (though the stands across the street were mostly empty). The sky was cloudy and the wind blowing out. It rained through all of the early innings. In the 4th there was a grand slam which bounced out onto the street. Unfortunately, it was by the visitors. The stands quickly began emptying. But a hardy few stayed until the last painful out. It was so baseball.
During the winter I read a remarkable book called Autumn Glory by Louis P. Masur. It's the story of the first World Series, between the Pirates and the Red Sox. (If you want to truly enjoy the book, don't look up how it came out before you read it. If you already know, try to forget.)
The book is enjoyable on many levels, but I think my favorite aspect was that it dedicates chapters to each team's season, personnel, character, ballpark, city, fans, and more. You get a sense not just for who these people were, but what the baseball experience was from both the inside and the outside. Masur beautifully evokes a very different era, but because the story is told in such an immediate fashion, it leaves the reader easily able to make connections between then and now.
As I watched the Cubs and Pirates take the field, I was living that connection, recognizing just how much today's pageantry had in common with those early days (quite a lot, as it turns out). Among many common denominators, the passion for the game of both players and fans is a thick bonding agent across the decades.
I don't have to tell you that, between the lines, especially in the National League, the game is essentially unchanged from its early years. Even though these guys are bigger and stronger and better prepared than any players in history, what they are trying to accomplish -- along with the means of accomplishing it -- has barely changed. They walked out onto a field which looked pretty much as fields did 110 years ago, and started throwing and hitting and running, pretty much like players did 110 years ago.
Beyond the lines, the game is nearly unrecognizable, and nowhere is that more evident than at Wrigley Field. We know what those guys are getting paid. We know just how profitable and financially valuable these franchises are. We know management's take on the fan with little money.
Where advertising was once banished in the name of "purity" (which never actually existed, by the way), it now dots the inside of the park and dominates the view beyond the outfield walls. Still lamenting the addition of lights to the park's classic profile? Well, how about radiant heating for the suite level? Yep, it's there. So are LCD screens and cushy seats and the harsh separation of classes.
This is not a lament. Change is inevitable. And it is the ability to see and appreciate and, to the extent necessary, forgive the change that I experienced today. If you study the game, these are the moments you live for. The business side may bear no resemblance to its forebears, but a base hit is still a base hit. I do love that.
Another book (more like a pamphlet, actually) that I read recently is Quotations from Chairman Calvin, edited by David Anderson. Calvin Griffith said and did a whole lot of crazy things. But as baseball personalities go, his is among the most memorable. And his love of the game was always contagious:
"I love baseball so goddamn much -- it's like a dessert."
That's what opening day is about. And I'm happy to say that I got that today.
Anybody still wanting to order tickets for April 9 should look at the previous post for an order form. Ticket sales here will end Sunday night even if there are still seats available in the group.
As an aside, I heard that the Twins also played today. I guess it was brutal. I was only able to see about 20 seconds of "highlights" on my local news. Meanwhile, the always-scintillating Wolves were stinking up airwaves that might otherwise have been filled with opening day baseball. That is pretty f-ed up, if you ask me.
Twins, I'm calling on you to make this right. You have no obligation to show games over the air, but it's the right thing to do. Providing the equivalent of TV cheap seats will do you a world of good with your fan base in the long run.
One word: simulcasting.
I had a blast watching the Cubs today, but I'm not interested in changing allegiance. You guys are my team, and I want to see you play.
"You talk about the magic, the aura, but what really makes a stadium is the fans. Concrete doesn't talk back to you. Chairs don't talk back to you. It's the people who are there, day in, day out, that makes the place magic."
– Bernie Williams
Explore the Site
Here are 50 images chosen randomly from the 3033 found on this site. Click the image to be taken to the original post. A new list is created every 10 minutes.
This is also the promenade, where the first indications of the final texture of the walkway can be seen. This layer of concrete is going on top of gravel (as has been done over on the plaza).
If you are into shade, there are lots of opportunities. This is from the last row in section 108 -- scoreboard not blocked in the least.
I set up my late inning "office" at the drink rail behind section 206
From behind the wind veil
Here are some less intrusive things things you can actually get at the ballpark.
Approach in the A ramp to the skywalk over Seventh
Walkway sneak peek
Fencing is going up all along the plaza
Stairs and escalator down to the platform
From last week, you can see the piers taking shape. I believe that the front row, visible here as just forms and reinforcing rods, is the front edge of the plaza.
The Northstar circulation building is starting to take shape.
This looks south and shows the track configuration for Northstar. The platform shown is just a placeholder. To the best of my knowledge, concept drawings for this platform have not been released. Keep in mind, this is NOT part of the ballpark project. It is completely separate.
A glimpse of the rather plain west facade (the side which faces the HERC plant).
Section 139, Row 8
Another classic space in the making above the Hrbek gate.
Team pennant. (Click to enlarge.)
Note that the sign in the background will NOT be changed because "Twins Way" doesn't extend this far north.
That's Fifth Street (and a tattooed arm) in the foreground.
The Lincoln Saltdogs (and a promotional Nerd)
The start of the VIP entrance and loading dock.
I didn't check the menu too closely, but it looks like all the standard fare is available, and not much of the non-standard stuff.