As
much as I enjoy watching them, I dreaded the Cubs’ entry into the playoffs,
because that would mean I would be compelled to watch them in every game. I am
offended by any team that decorates its players so they look like an
8-year-old’s bedroom, for one thing. For another, I detest watching night games
at Wrigley Field. Iles Park is probably better lighted than Wrigley; Wrigley’s
center field is one part of Chicago I would never like to get caught in after
dark.
Watching
the Cubs and Cards the other night, I was reminded of my youth. A pal and me had an itch to shoot baskets on a
summer’s night. Our preferred schoolyard courts were unlighted, of course, but
the court behind the old Stuart School on South Grand between Sixth and Seventh streets was across
the street from a Thrifty’s. The store’s illuminated signs lit up just one side
of the ball, however, so every shot looked like a half moon setting as it arced
toward the basket. Very poetic – and there were few enough opportunities for
the poetic offered by a Thrifty’s – but my point is, we had more light to play
by than do outfields at Wrigley.
This article appears in Nov 5-11, 2015.
