Day At A Cubs Game example essay topic

Growing up in the suburbs of Chicago and being a sports fan resulted in one and only true outcome; I am the Chicago Cubs' biggest fan. True, I am not the only person in the greater Chicagoland area who will claim the title, but I stick to my guns and refuse to relinquish the self-appointed title. Every time I go home, I join the thousands of other self appointed "biggest fans" in the usual afternoon at Wrigley Field. There is nothing quite like a day at a Cubs game.

For me, it's a fun filled day of drinking watered down beer and eating cheap hot dogs and nachos with the guys. Yes, it may sound rather crude to many but to us, its bliss. The day usually starts early in the morning, an eight o'clock train into Chicago, with the throbbing pain of a hangover after being out too late the night before catching the game at the local sports bar. After the moc has and lattes have crested over the appropriate sets of lips the whole group perks up with anticipation over the days events. Players's tatistics are discussed, along with the usual hopeful, "Maybe Derek Lee will hit a grand slam today!" and, as always, Nate and Mike get into it at least once over whether Kerry Wood or Richard Prior is a better starting pitcher. Friendly jabs are exchanged in all directions, and by the time everyone agrees to disagree the train is pulling into Union Station and we " re one step closer to the game.

After catching a taxi, the short ride to the ballpark takes far longer then it should due to the hundreds of cars that are assaulting the Wrigley Field parking lots and attacking the local traffic cops. As the taxi creeps impatiently up the street, edging closer and closer to the unmoving vehicle in front of it, Wrigley Field slowly climbs out of the Chicago skyline. A beautiful thing occurs every time this happens... silence! Mike, Nate, Nick, Andrew, and James have all stopped their usual "guy talk" to take in the glory of our team's home field. The striking red brick of the building, with bold green ivy lazily climbing it's walls, and the "WRIGLEY FIELD, Home of the CHICAGO CUBS" sign screaming out from the front, all receive the deserved moment of silence and respect they demand from all who walk within their walls. Smiles slowly creep across all of our faces, all though I'm never sure if it's because of the look of the ball park or because of the realization that the Cubby Bear is now within walking distance.

As the cabbie gets paid his fee, we rapidly cross the street, with a slight bounce in our step, and turn the corner to find our favorite pre-game bar! The Cubby Bear is your everyday sports bar until game day arrives. Then, the spacious bar / restaurant, wallpapered in Cubbies memorabilia and nostalgia, directly across the street from the front gate of Wrigley Field, becomes alive with fans, scalpers, tourists and fanatics (fans, but extremely shocking and almost offensive, their only saving grace is that they like the Cubs!) The pre-game show is on every big screen in the place, beer is tumbling out of the taps, and everyone is friends with anyone who's rooting for the right team! Round after round comes our way and we talk to anyone we can about how exciting today's big game is. (You see, every game is a big game for Cubbies fans!) As the clock ticks closer to the opening pitch of the game, we all decide to finally head inside to take our seats. En route to our seats is the usual stop for more beer, along with our choice of nachos, pretzels, pizza, hot dogs, brats or sausage.

After everyone has piled the appropriate condiments on their selections, we make our way to our seats. Same place every time: third base line, lower level, right where we can heckle the opposing team as they " re trying to do their thing! We find our seats just in time to see the celebrity de jour toss the first pitch of the game in the general direction of home plate. Within minutes we are all immersed in cheering on the Cubs, insulting the opposing team (as well as their mothers!) and chewing out the umpires for whatever calls we feel are unjust (in other words, if it wasn't in our favor!) If a good hit is smashed towards the wall, we are on our feet in seconds, inspiring them to grow wings if they were hit by our team, and holding them into the ball park if the other team hit the rocket.

All in all, after nine innings, we are all tired and hoarse as we all climb in a cab to head home. On the train home, as we recount, and argue over, the "play of the game" we vow to get back to another game before everyone has to leave the area. In the wake of the afternoon, as the calm of the storm takes over, we all agree that it was once again a wonderful day for all of us. It never matters whether the Cubbies win or lose, although it's always nice when they win, it's about the experience of attending the big game, in the big city, with the best friends of your life. None of us will ever remember the various "plays of the game" that we saw, we won't remember what food we ate, and we certainly won't remember the name of the outrageous fan we met at the Cubby Bear. But we will all always remember that moment of understanding on the train.

A common wink ripples from Nick to Nate, from Nate to me, then to Andrew, Mike, and James and we all tip our heads back, close our eyes, and daydream about our favorite moments of the day until sleep takes over, and we slowly come down from the high of the day.