"Let's Play Ball"

"Let's Play Ball"
By Arlene Levin   (c) 2019

I'm from Chicago, home of The White Sox and The Cubs.   As a kid, professional  baseball was a family blood sport.  My mother and her brother were Sox fans, their sister was a die hard Cub fan.  My grandfather loved baseball.  He would set up two radios and listened to both games at the same time.  When available, television replaced one radio.  He was a Sox fan but no one could get him to go to a game.  I picked up my mother's mantel and followed The White Sox.  My father didn't have an opinion and at this time my sisters were too young to care.

It was the 1950's.  Neither Chicago team even came close to a league championship, never mind a world series berth.  But in my family there were still bragging rights  "...ya but you have to admit, the Sox's American League is better." This was supported by the fact that at this time the New York Yankees of the American League were invincible, earning the title "Damn Yankees" because they always won.

During the season we watched baseball on our 20 inch black and white TV or we listened to the game on the radio.  I was about 10 when I went to my first professional game.  My park district day camp scheduled a trip to Wrigley Field to see the Cubs play.  My anticipation was so great I hardly slept the night before.

About 100 campers arrived at the stadium decked out in our white River Park District Tee shirts and red baseball caps.  Smiles, laughter, we were very excited to be there.  The weather was perfect.  The sun was shining, there was a breeze, we were ready.    Entering the stadium our group moved with the crowds through the dark walkways that surrounded the field.  Here people lined up at concession stands waiting to purchase big bags of peanuts, boxes of cracker jacks, popcorn, drinks, hot dogs, game programs and bright blue and red Cub Caps and tee shirts.

Eventually we walked out of the darkness up steep stairs that led to the field and to our seats.  Reaching the top, the bright sun light blinded me for a moment.  When I regained my sight the impact of what lay before me almost took my breath away.

The Cub's home stadium, Wrigley Field, is one of the oldest baseball parks in the league.  Up until the moment I reached the top of the stairs, baseball and Wrigley Field was a black and white television experience.  In full sunlight the intensity of the colourful scene below was spectacular.  There was the bright white white of the player's uniforms against the rich green of the thick perfectly groomed grass.  The dark green vines growing on the outfield wall enclosed the site in a natural beauty. The huge field shimmered in brilliant sunlight.  

Transferring size from my small black and white TV to the "real thing" was a shock.  The size of everything was magnified 1000 fold.  The size of the diamond, how far a home-run really had to go, the distance from the pitcher to home plate all needed adjustment.  With a new perspective, I watched the Cubs warm up by throwing the ball, the pitcher to the catcher and the infield practicing double plays.  Players, bat in hand, practiced swings, anticipating future connections and home runs.

In the stands vendors walked the aisles calling out in raspy overworked voices, "Pea-nuts", "Coooold drinks", "I-sss Cream", "Proo-grams", "Cooold Beer".  Purchases and money were passed person to person along the row, back and forth to complete the transactions.  It was the ultimate in crowd participation. 

It was a summer week day.  Fans of all ages were in the stands.  I saw a girl holding her grandfather's hand as they walked down the steep stadium steps to their seats.  There were teenage boys in tight jeans and white tee shirts with a pack of cigarettes rolled up into the sleeve.  Groups of girls in short shorts carried confident smiles.  Die-hard fans sported well worn Cub tee shirts, caps and brimmed hats.  Everyone was here to watch the game.  We all settled in our seats anxiously waiting for the first pitch and the game to begin.

   

Who won that day?  I don't remember.  The Cubs usually lost so that's probably what happened.  I've been to baseball games since but nothing compares with the thrill of my first experience.   Now, to each game, my 10 year old self stands in my minds eye.  I thrill as I once again walk up the stairs out of the darkness and into the light.  The spectacle lay before me.  There are thousands in attendance and millions more are here through the broadcast media.   Becoming part of the spectacle, I take my seat.   I listen to the hum of the excited crowd change to cheers as the teams officially take the field.   "Now, let's play ball"!



             This is just some of my family gathered for a recent Chicago Cubs season opener.

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