I’m not much of a winter person. I like to visit winter on occasion, but don’t really appreciate when it drops in on me. So when spring finally starts to come to the Chicago area, I get pretty excited. Further, today is my birthday. (That’s right, folks, the photo below is the last one of 31-year-old Dave. The same photo taken today would show me all gray and hunched over and cupping my ear in order to hear you better.) I, at least, can think of no better way to spend one of the first warm days of the year and my birthday weekend than a little bit of America’s Pastime – a Chicago White Sox baseball game.
View from the seats in the White Sox Park.
I grew up on baseball. My grandfather (mom’s dad) was a life-long St. Louis Cardinals fan. In fact, he even tried out for the organization as a young man, but later injured his arm – he was a pitcher. My own father was apparently a bit of a force on the mound in high school as a tall, thin left-hander. So I got into the game very young – playing it, watching it, and talking about it with several generations of my family. Following in these foot prints, I too was a pitcher for many years as a teenager. In my own high school days I was lucky enough to be part of a State Championship team my junior year. I mentioned in my bio that I was a few semesters from spending my life as an architect. Well, the first thing I ever wanted to be, I guess, was a baseball player.
Anyway, the thunderstorms which blanketed Chicago this past weekend seemed to respect the game as well and paused for exactly 4 hours to let it proceed. The remnants of the morning storms had to be wiped off your seat before the game, the sun came out in the 1st inning and it was 80 degrees by the 4th, and it started to rain again while walking back to the train after the 9th. Not bad.
So Spring is trying, and I appreciate her efforts, and look forward to the summer that is to come.
Zooming in a bit.
A younger me at the game!
