3 games in 3 cities on Midwestern road trip
Is baseball still our national pastime, or is that now “trolling on the internet” or “ordering takeout”? I like to think it’s still baseball. But then, I’m a fan.
How big of a fan? Not a die-hard, not a statistics wizard, not a cable subscriber. But I like the sport. Enough that, during my vacation in the Midwest, I saw three games in three cities in six days.
First, I saw my favorite team, the St. Louis Cardinals, play at home, an annual tradition — except for last year, of course. Then I took the train to Chicago to see the White Sox and from there a train to Milwaukee for the Brewers.
This is all part of my quiet campaign to eventually get to all 30 major league ballparks. Before this trip, my tally was nine. Now I’m at 11 — double digits at last.
(By the time I get near 30, sometime in my 70s, the number of teams probably will expand to 36 and I’ll die of frustration.)
Baseball in 2021, at least in the Midwest, is much as you remember it. Too long, for starters, and with overpriced food and drink.
But a lot of the offerings are regional and distinctive. In Chicago, I got an Italian beef sandwich with giardiniera, or pickled vegetables. In Milwaukee, I had a Chedda Burger — that’s how the stand advertised it — and a frozen custard. St. Louis’ Busch Stadium, tragically, has no Ted Drewes custard stand, but Budweiser is everywhere.
Wherever you go, teams use silly or charming stunts to keep your attention, like a footrace in Wisconsin among three costumed sausages, or a child announcing the next batter.
What about COVID-19? Games at this point are largely mask-free, although many stadium employees wore them and some fans did, including myself at times in the crowded concourses.
Ticketing is almost entirely virtual. I had to download an app. This beat printing out a ticket and handing it over but didn’t beat having a souvenir ticket to take home. It did beat worrying I’d forget to bring my ticket or would lose it along the way.
When you travel, you get a new perspective, even on baseball. Fans everywhere are excited about their team. They don their colors or jerseys with the last names of favorite superstars on the back, even if you, personally, have no idea who any of these players are. In these fractured times, the unity is inspiring.
In St. Louis on June 24, I rooted for the Cardinals, of course. (They lost anyway, 8-2.) In Chicago and Milwaukee, on June 27 and Tuesday, respectively, I had no rooting interest in the home team or its opponent.
In that case, the polite thing to do is to root for the home team. After all, I’m a guest in its city, and you don’t want to be so detached you’re not rooting for anyone.
I’d previously been to Chicago’s Wrigley Field, watching the Cubs lose to the Cardinals, which was satisfying. But I hadn’t seen Chicago’s other team, the White Sox, or its absurdly named
ballpark, Guaranteed Rate Field. So that became Ballpark No. 10 for me.
I took the subway from downtown. As our trainload of baseball fans exited the station en masse, the transit employee inside the booth got on his handheld mic to shout excitedly, “Go, Sox! Go, Sox! Go, Sox!” a dozen times as we filed past. His enthusiasm put a smile on everyone’s face.
The Sox lost 3-2 to the Seattle Mariners, finishing a game that had been interrupted by rain the previous day.
My ticket would have entitled me to see the day’s regularly scheduled game as well — the Sox won it, 7-5 — but as I said, I’m not a die-hard fan, and even one three-hour game is a bit beyond my current attention span.
With only one full day in Chicago, I didn’t want to spend it all at the ballpark. So I left for the Art Institute, a must-stop for me, and deep-dish pizza at Lou Malnati’s.
Two nights later, I took a city bus from downtown Milwaukee to American Family Field, which became Ballpark No. 11. The Brewers are leading the National League Central, the same division as my struggling Cardinals, and would be playing the Cubs, who were in second.
My preference would have been for both teams to lose, but that’s not how it works. Again, I was happy to root for the home team, especially since no rightthinking St. Louis fan would root for the Cubs under any circumstances.
In fact, I was a little sorry to have missed the previous night’s game, when the Cubs had been clobbered 14-2.
It was a fun night at the ballpark, with witty commentary by the stranger to my left, welcome interjections by the ballpark organist (who owns a company named Allen Organs) and a mystery fan who apparently bought out five rows to my right, about 60 seats, to enjoy the game with a friend in peace.
Also, the Brewers’ video screens at one point showed shots of fans over funny, but not mean, captions. Some roasted fans in Cubs jerseys.
“Has scale model of Wrigley,” the caption read under an older man, “but used poison ivy.” Under a group of millennial fans: “Still waiting for Fyre Festival refunds.” And below a couple, and in reference to the last game, the caption read: “Fans of team that gave up a 10-run inning.”
On the field, the low-hit game was almost a pitcher’s duel. With an early flight the next morning, I left after six innings and finished the game at a bar near my hotel.
The score hadn’t changed, thankfully. As I polished off a bratwurst with sauerkraut and onions on a pretzel bun, with a side of cheese curds, the Cubs lost, 2-1.
Does life in these United States get much better? Happy Independence Day.
BRIEFLY
Ontario’s All States Picnic for July Fourth is canceled along with the annual parade. As my colleague
Joe Blackstock wrote recently, what used to be the “world’s longest picnic table,” with tables for transplants from each state during the state’s midcentury population boom, in recent years has been a bust. Ontario ought to rethink the concept to reflect a Latino-majority city. I mean, is anyone still moving here from Iowa? If the All States Picnic returns in 2022, designate tables for each of the 32 states in Mexico, promote the event in the Latino community and see what happens.