Heaven On Earth
October 9, 2003
Warning: This story is very long, so read it when you have a few minutes. I apologize for the length...
My friend Mike Neppl and I had a conversation 6 years ago about what our greatest days were. They were days that were so good, they were worthy of the title, "great day". Well this Tuesday, after my wedding and the birth of my children, I had my fourth "greatest day ever."
The day started off pretty normal. I had an 11:00 am appointment to donate blood which I went to. Unfortunately the nurse poked a gaping hole in the vein in my right arm. My bicep started to swell like a balloon. The nurse had to call it off and apologized profusely. I took it like a man, but grabbed some extra cookies and cranberry juice on my way out. Now I admit I'm basically a puss when it comes to pain, but I could barely move my right arm driving back to work. Bad ending to the morning.
Then the call came. I'll never forget it. My wife called me at about 1:15 pm and said the eight most beautiful words I have ever heard, "Hank, I got tickets to the Cubs game!" I blacked out for about 15 seconds, then picked myself up off the floor and grabbed the phone. She said the words again. I blacked out for about 20 seconds this time then came too again and replied in a shaky voice,"What?" Finally, she got through to me. My beautiful wife of 5 years had come through with the greatest gift of all time; two tickets to the first game of the National League Championship series between the Chicago Cubs and the Florida Marlins.
My wife has connections with a guy who works for Fox Sports in Chicago and the guy offered her two tickets to the playoff game. She is going to stay with the kids. I spend the next 45 minutes searching for flights to Chicago, and trying to get my dad, who turns 60 this month to go with me. But he has some lame meetings to go too that he can't get out off. Finally, I pull my sister who teaches at a high school in Chicago out of her class and tell her to meet me at the McDonalds on Clark and Addison across from Wrigley Field because we're going to the Cubs game. She starts to hyperventilate, which makes me start to hyperventilate until I get a grip and tell her to calm down and I'll see her at 7:20 pm. I find a 5:00 pm flight on Southwest out of Omaha that gets into Midway airport at 6:20 pm. I book it.
It's now 2:00 pm. I grab my suit coat and bag, turn out the lights in my office and run down the hallway and out the office like Forest Gump. I lay rubber out of the parking lot narrowly missing two nuns and head for home for a quick change. I still can't believe I'm going to the game. I fly home, grab my Cubs hat, the Cubs jersey I've had since my freshmen year in college, boxers, toothbrush, throw it in a bag, kiss my wife and boys and head for Omaha. My wife has arranged for me to pick up the tickets from Jay (Fox Sports connection) in front of his apartment just off Lakeshore Drive. It is now 3:00 pm and I'm in good shape. Only the fact that I just got a speeding ticket last week keeps me from breaking the all time record from Lincoln to Omaha on I-80. My palms are sweating and my mouth is dry. It's hard to focus on the road. I say the prayer "Please God make my flight be on time" one thousand times. I pull into the quick park lot at Epply and Forest Gump my way to the Southwest ticket counter.
The flight is on time and everything looks good. I relax a little. I realize I forgot my camera and panic again. Then I realize I'm in an airport and buy a disposable camera. The plane loads and I walk to the back and take a seat. I pass out. I miss the beverage cart and ask the stewardess for a bag of ice for my right arm. I take a look at my arm and it's purple. The lady sitting next to me thinks I'm a heroin addict. I ice the arm for a while then think to myself, "What the hell am I doing at the back of the plane?!!?"" I gotta get off this thing fast and get a cab. So as we're descending I grab my bag and walk up to the front, looking for an empty seat. I hope I'm not mistaken for a terrorist with a heroin addiction. I find a spot in the third row next to an old lady and sit down. She asks where I've been the whole trip. I tell her I was in the back but needed to move up because I have tickets to the Cubs game and need to get off the plane. She responds, "Oh, the Cubs. Who are they playing?" I deliver a passionate speech about how this is the fourth greatest day of my life and the Cubs haven't won the world series since 1908, tell her my whole life story, etc, etc. The plane lands. My speech to the old lady must have worked because she grabs my arm, looks me in the eye and says, "Get outta here! You gotta cab to catch!" Inspired, I ruthlessly knock over a young mother with her three kids in getting off the plane. As I'm running up the ramp I hear the old lady's voice behind me telling everyone, "He's gotta catch a cab and get to the Cubs game."
I'm Forest Gump again. I fly through the terminal and jump into a cab. I scream, "Take me to Lakeshore and LaSalle!" "All right Cubs fan," he responds. Thank God. He speaks English. It is now 6:20 The game starts in one hour. It's all coming together. I call Jay from Fox Sports on my cell phone and tell him I'm five minutes away. He meets me outside his apartment. I rush outside, hug him like I've never hugged another man before, tell him something about naming my first child "Jay", grab the tickets and hop back into the cab. Another guy hops in the cab with me to share the ride. He's going to the Cubbie bear to watch the game. He's from Michigan. I rub it in his face about the Iowa game last weekend. He can't believe my story. But now I'm nervous. Are we going to make it on time? What if traffic is bad? Then, the guy from Michigan points up ahead and says, "Look. There it is."
The most beautiful sight in the world. The lights of Wrigley Field. It was like the scene in "Field of Dreams" when Kevin Costner and James Earl Jones see the field at night after they come back to it with Moonlight Graham in the back seat. I pass out again. Michigan guy shakes me and says, "I'm getting out here. Have fun at the game." I decide to get out too, throw money at the cabbie, and get out about five blocks from Wrigley Field. Forest Gump time again, except now it's harder because I have to weave in and out of all the people. I'm in heaven. Everyone is wearing Cubs gear. All the restaurants and bars have the game on. Venders everywhere. Miraculously, I see my sister walking towards me. We meet, freak out, she grabs my right arm and I fall to the ground in pain. I shake it off and we head into the game. I feel like I've died and am entering the pearly gates. I check the ticket guy for wings.
I'm in baseball heaven. If they're playing baseball in heaven, which I'm sure they are, I'm positive it looks something like they way Wrigley Field looked that night. I've been to a handful of games at Wrigley Field but off course never in the playoffs, and only once at night. I can't believe I made it. Our seats are in the upper deck, third base side, even with the third base umpire down the line. We get to our seats and just miss the first out. Beer, brats, popcorn. There are almost as many people around the stadium, in the streets waiting for a home run, and up in the buildings around the stadium as there are people in the stadium.
The Cubs score four runs in the first. The place goes nuts. My sister and I are jumping up and down. I can't really clap because I can't raise my right arm above my waist. But I feel no pain. I'm screaming at the top of my voice. The first inning ends and I'm exhausted. I tell my sister that I don't think I'm going to make it another 8 innings. I have a beer and a dog. I'm taking pictures like a Japanese tourist. Florida comes back. The game is like a heavy weight fight with home runs and comebacks. For some reason, because I'm actually at the game, I'm not as nervous as when I watch it on tv. Don't know why. Cubs down two runs. Bottom of the ninth. One guy on. Sammy Sosa at the plate. Two strikes. The pitch...Sosa sends it over the left field fence and the place erupts. It's so loud I can't breath. I'm hugging complete strangers. Grown men are crying. My sisters says she thinks she just burst her vocal chords. I'm in baseball heaven.
Of course the Cubs lose in 11 innings. After the last out the crowd lets out a collective groan/sigh and it suddenly gets real quite. It feels like a wake. My sister and I shuffle out of the stadium. Now my arm is killing me again. We take a few more pictures around the stadium. We walk about five blocks to my sister's apartment. We replay the entire game on the way. How did we score 8 runs and lose??? I look back and can still see the lights on at the stadium. We get back to her apartment and I drown my sorrows in a bucket full of Halloween candy. It's 12:30 am. My flight leaves at 7:30 am. I'll be back at work by noon. The greatest day ends. And even though we lost, I fall asleep with a gut full of chocolate and a smile on my face.
Go Cubs.
Warning: This story is very long, so read it when you have a few minutes. I apologize for the length...
My friend Mike Neppl and I had a conversation 6 years ago about what our greatest days were. They were days that were so good, they were worthy of the title, "great day". Well this Tuesday, after my wedding and the birth of my children, I had my fourth "greatest day ever."
The day started off pretty normal. I had an 11:00 am appointment to donate blood which I went to. Unfortunately the nurse poked a gaping hole in the vein in my right arm. My bicep started to swell like a balloon. The nurse had to call it off and apologized profusely. I took it like a man, but grabbed some extra cookies and cranberry juice on my way out. Now I admit I'm basically a puss when it comes to pain, but I could barely move my right arm driving back to work. Bad ending to the morning.
Then the call came. I'll never forget it. My wife called me at about 1:15 pm and said the eight most beautiful words I have ever heard, "Hank, I got tickets to the Cubs game!" I blacked out for about 15 seconds, then picked myself up off the floor and grabbed the phone. She said the words again. I blacked out for about 20 seconds this time then came too again and replied in a shaky voice,"What?" Finally, she got through to me. My beautiful wife of 5 years had come through with the greatest gift of all time; two tickets to the first game of the National League Championship series between the Chicago Cubs and the Florida Marlins.
My wife has connections with a guy who works for Fox Sports in Chicago and the guy offered her two tickets to the playoff game. She is going to stay with the kids. I spend the next 45 minutes searching for flights to Chicago, and trying to get my dad, who turns 60 this month to go with me. But he has some lame meetings to go too that he can't get out off. Finally, I pull my sister who teaches at a high school in Chicago out of her class and tell her to meet me at the McDonalds on Clark and Addison across from Wrigley Field because we're going to the Cubs game. She starts to hyperventilate, which makes me start to hyperventilate until I get a grip and tell her to calm down and I'll see her at 7:20 pm. I find a 5:00 pm flight on Southwest out of Omaha that gets into Midway airport at 6:20 pm. I book it.
It's now 2:00 pm. I grab my suit coat and bag, turn out the lights in my office and run down the hallway and out the office like Forest Gump. I lay rubber out of the parking lot narrowly missing two nuns and head for home for a quick change. I still can't believe I'm going to the game. I fly home, grab my Cubs hat, the Cubs jersey I've had since my freshmen year in college, boxers, toothbrush, throw it in a bag, kiss my wife and boys and head for Omaha. My wife has arranged for me to pick up the tickets from Jay (Fox Sports connection) in front of his apartment just off Lakeshore Drive. It is now 3:00 pm and I'm in good shape. Only the fact that I just got a speeding ticket last week keeps me from breaking the all time record from Lincoln to Omaha on I-80. My palms are sweating and my mouth is dry. It's hard to focus on the road. I say the prayer "Please God make my flight be on time" one thousand times. I pull into the quick park lot at Epply and Forest Gump my way to the Southwest ticket counter.
The flight is on time and everything looks good. I relax a little. I realize I forgot my camera and panic again. Then I realize I'm in an airport and buy a disposable camera. The plane loads and I walk to the back and take a seat. I pass out. I miss the beverage cart and ask the stewardess for a bag of ice for my right arm. I take a look at my arm and it's purple. The lady sitting next to me thinks I'm a heroin addict. I ice the arm for a while then think to myself, "What the hell am I doing at the back of the plane?!!?"" I gotta get off this thing fast and get a cab. So as we're descending I grab my bag and walk up to the front, looking for an empty seat. I hope I'm not mistaken for a terrorist with a heroin addiction. I find a spot in the third row next to an old lady and sit down. She asks where I've been the whole trip. I tell her I was in the back but needed to move up because I have tickets to the Cubs game and need to get off the plane. She responds, "Oh, the Cubs. Who are they playing?" I deliver a passionate speech about how this is the fourth greatest day of my life and the Cubs haven't won the world series since 1908, tell her my whole life story, etc, etc. The plane lands. My speech to the old lady must have worked because she grabs my arm, looks me in the eye and says, "Get outta here! You gotta cab to catch!" Inspired, I ruthlessly knock over a young mother with her three kids in getting off the plane. As I'm running up the ramp I hear the old lady's voice behind me telling everyone, "He's gotta catch a cab and get to the Cubs game."
I'm Forest Gump again. I fly through the terminal and jump into a cab. I scream, "Take me to Lakeshore and LaSalle!" "All right Cubs fan," he responds. Thank God. He speaks English. It is now 6:20 The game starts in one hour. It's all coming together. I call Jay from Fox Sports on my cell phone and tell him I'm five minutes away. He meets me outside his apartment. I rush outside, hug him like I've never hugged another man before, tell him something about naming my first child "Jay", grab the tickets and hop back into the cab. Another guy hops in the cab with me to share the ride. He's going to the Cubbie bear to watch the game. He's from Michigan. I rub it in his face about the Iowa game last weekend. He can't believe my story. But now I'm nervous. Are we going to make it on time? What if traffic is bad? Then, the guy from Michigan points up ahead and says, "Look. There it is."
The most beautiful sight in the world. The lights of Wrigley Field. It was like the scene in "Field of Dreams" when Kevin Costner and James Earl Jones see the field at night after they come back to it with Moonlight Graham in the back seat. I pass out again. Michigan guy shakes me and says, "I'm getting out here. Have fun at the game." I decide to get out too, throw money at the cabbie, and get out about five blocks from Wrigley Field. Forest Gump time again, except now it's harder because I have to weave in and out of all the people. I'm in heaven. Everyone is wearing Cubs gear. All the restaurants and bars have the game on. Venders everywhere. Miraculously, I see my sister walking towards me. We meet, freak out, she grabs my right arm and I fall to the ground in pain. I shake it off and we head into the game. I feel like I've died and am entering the pearly gates. I check the ticket guy for wings.
I'm in baseball heaven. If they're playing baseball in heaven, which I'm sure they are, I'm positive it looks something like they way Wrigley Field looked that night. I've been to a handful of games at Wrigley Field but off course never in the playoffs, and only once at night. I can't believe I made it. Our seats are in the upper deck, third base side, even with the third base umpire down the line. We get to our seats and just miss the first out. Beer, brats, popcorn. There are almost as many people around the stadium, in the streets waiting for a home run, and up in the buildings around the stadium as there are people in the stadium.
The Cubs score four runs in the first. The place goes nuts. My sister and I are jumping up and down. I can't really clap because I can't raise my right arm above my waist. But I feel no pain. I'm screaming at the top of my voice. The first inning ends and I'm exhausted. I tell my sister that I don't think I'm going to make it another 8 innings. I have a beer and a dog. I'm taking pictures like a Japanese tourist. Florida comes back. The game is like a heavy weight fight with home runs and comebacks. For some reason, because I'm actually at the game, I'm not as nervous as when I watch it on tv. Don't know why. Cubs down two runs. Bottom of the ninth. One guy on. Sammy Sosa at the plate. Two strikes. The pitch...Sosa sends it over the left field fence and the place erupts. It's so loud I can't breath. I'm hugging complete strangers. Grown men are crying. My sisters says she thinks she just burst her vocal chords. I'm in baseball heaven.
Of course the Cubs lose in 11 innings. After the last out the crowd lets out a collective groan/sigh and it suddenly gets real quite. It feels like a wake. My sister and I shuffle out of the stadium. Now my arm is killing me again. We take a few more pictures around the stadium. We walk about five blocks to my sister's apartment. We replay the entire game on the way. How did we score 8 runs and lose??? I look back and can still see the lights on at the stadium. We get back to her apartment and I drown my sorrows in a bucket full of Halloween candy. It's 12:30 am. My flight leaves at 7:30 am. I'll be back at work by noon. The greatest day ends. And even though we lost, I fall asleep with a gut full of chocolate and a smile on my face.
Go Cubs.
posted by Hank Louis Tierney at 7:42 PM
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