Eleven years ago I was living in New York City. I was involved in a long distance relationship that had no end in site and I was deciding if I was gonna leave New York for greener pastures in Chicago. The girl I was dating was in town and we went to a Mets game. They were playing the Cubs. Sitting there in that July New York heat, eating a hot dog and drinking a beer, I called my dad. I told him, if the Mets win, I’ll stay in New York. If the Cubs win, I’ll move to Chicago.
The Cubs won.
So as this final week of my Chicago residency is upon me, I am again attending a Cubs game. Probably my last in a long time. Unfortunately, they are’t playing LA. They’re playing the Phillies, so the move bet isn’t applicable here. Megan bought some great seats and I’m playing at one more Chicago memory. The great Wrigley field. They’ll probably lose. The Cubs that is. But a game at Wrigley, no matter what the result, is magical.
UPDATE: Megan and I got obliterated. I had 5 beers at the game, we went to our favorite Wrigley watering hole, Mullen’s, and had 2 more and then to another Wrigley favorite, The Piano Man and had another. Oh, and the Cubs lost. SURPRISE, SURPRISE, SURPRISE!