Taking the train to Wrigley is definitely the way to go. You don’t have to worry about the horrible parking or traffic and I don’t know many six-year-olds who don’t enjoy riding the train.
As you exit the Addison train station, you immediately stumble upon the “Harry Caray” statue. This poses the opportunity to share baseball lore with little nephew, Noah. Again, not a Cubs’ fan, but there are some things you just grow to respect as a baseball fan. And seeing the words, “Hey, let me hear you . . . one, two, three” brings tears to my eyes. I have goosebumps as I write this post. The way Harray Caray brought the “friendly confines” to its feet was nothing short of the magic of the great game of baseball.
We sat in the bleachers, the ultimate Cub fan experience. It was 90-plus degrees and humidity. Fittingly, Noah embraced true Cub bleacher culture in the fifth inning when he asked, “Uncle Joe, I’m hot, can I take my shirt off?” There was only one answer to that question to which there was no hesitation.
After sunburn, Cracker Jack, cotton candy, the batting cages at Slugger’s and a 3-1 Cub’s victory; the day was complete. On the train ride home, I said, “Noah, that was kinda fun, huh?” He responded, “Kinda fun, that was AWESOME!”
This baseball fan says, “Mission accomplished.”
You can get upset about steroids and highly-paid, “mamby-pamby” athletes, but a day at the ballyard with a six-year-old is still pretty hard to beat.