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Chicago. The second city. The windy city. Whatever you wanna call it, I agree with The Chairman; “It’s my kind of town.”
Chicago has the best architecture. Period. We also have the best hot dogs and the best pizza (deep dish, my friend). There’s the Art Institute, the Bean, and a river winding through downtown that not only changed the direction it flows, but it turns green every year for St. Patrick’s Day. We’ve got Harry Caray’s in Chicago, the Miracle Mile, Rush Street and the El. We used to have Ed Debevic’s and the Sears Tower. Now: no Ed’s and the tower is called Willis Tower. To anyone from Chi-town, though, it’ll always be Sears.
Anyway, we got a lot of great stuff here, pal, more than most cities. But on the very tip top of the pile — above the fact that Michael Jordan became Michael Jordan here, above Mr Mike Ditka and da Bears, above the Green Mill or Buddy Guy’s or Second City — sits the Chicago Cubs and the hallowed confines of Wrigley Field.
I bring this up because today is the home opener between the 5 and 1 north-siders and the who-cares-what-their-record-is Cincinnati Red Stockings. (I like calling ’em by their given name cuz it’s, you know, weird.) Man, it’s nice to have baseball back in Chicago again. And by that I don’t mean it’s nice that it’s baseball season again. (Although it is.) What I mean is that it’s nice to actually have a Major League caliber ball club that calls Wrigley home.
Will this be our year? Does Howdy Doody have wooden balls?
Joe