Approaching Mecca

Approaching Mecca
Originally uploaded by Butch Wynegar.

This is the place to be.

Yes, PNC Park in Pittsburgh had me quite impressed on Sunday, and I'll stand by the fact that it's the best stadium of recent vintage that I've seen (pending another entrant in Cincinnati tomorrow). But Wrigley Field is just unbeatable on several levels. First of all, it's completely integrated into a neighborhood. Unlike Philadelphia's stadium, in the absolute middle of nowhere (much like the Rangers' beautiful stadium in Arlington, Texas), or Pittsburgh's park, which has a stunning view of downtown but is across the river from real street life, Wrigley is tucked in among the homes and pubs of the city.

As comfortable as many new parks are, Wrigley also displays the benefits of being old-school. Granted, some aspects of the stadium's age are less than appealing -- including the p.a. system, which doesn't seem to have been updated since the Great Depression. Its tinny static was often overbearing from our seats (though it didn't ruin the national anthem sung by a man named LeRoy Ellzey, which was one of the most moving renditions I've ever heard, and certainly the best ever delivered by a man in a mustard-colored velour jumpsuit). But the rough sound and the cramped seating is made up for by the fact that Wrigley is an increasing rarity -- a stadium built before sporting events began catering primarily to children and ADD-suffering adults. Pittsburgh's stadium, inviting as it is, features a giant screen that broadcasts a wide variety of useless garbage before and during the game, from a talking cartoon pirate to a series of finger-colored paintings that each player had made of their name. Wrigley has a very thin strip of a screen underneath the center-field scoreboard, but the visual assault is minimal.

The concourse is a throwback, paved with brick and looking nothing like the soulless mall that surrounds most new stadiums and basketball arenas.

The park is a gem, but the fans are a stranger story. The game was sold out on a Wednesday afternoon, which means the fans are loyal and willing to burn vacation days (or call in sick) for baseball. To be applauded, for sure. Still, there was something odd about the collective behavior of the crowd. Early on, before the game turned into a blowout (Chicago fell behind 15-0, eventually losing 15-5), there was almost no reaction to anything happening on the field. Greg Maddux, the Cubs' pitcher, would get two strikes on a hitter during a jam, and the nearly 40,000 in attendance kept completely quiet. Chicagoans clearly know the sport, many of them stayed for the duration despite the cold weather and the uncompetitive game, and they enthusiastically stood to sing Take Me Out to the Ball Game during the seventh inning stretch, but it seemed like the ritual of being a Cubs Fan meant more to them than the particular game they were watching. That's why, in my admittedly biased opinion, Yankees fans are still the best I've seen -- but I'll let JF, a Cubs fan, defend his side in the morning. For now, it's time for bed. Today was the first day without driving on the trip, and I fear it's spoiled us -- the next two days will be spent mostly on the highway. Wish our weary old bodies luck... More on Chicago itself (sans baseball, I promise) and other subjects tomorrow. --JW