I’m in the early stages of fighting off a cold, and so far I’m losing spectacularly. As a result I won’t have much to say today, but I’m counting on you guys to pick up the slack.
By now you have probably seen the highlight of Travis Wood’s homer this past Sunday. If so, then you probably also saw a woman pour most of a beer over a man’s head after his failed attempt to catch the ball on its way over the left field bleachers.
If not, you can see the video and read the story here.
Normally the inebriated antics of the Bleacher Bums wouldn’t interest me, but I’ve met these two. I don’t know them well, mind you–in fact, I’ve been struggling for the last couple days to remember their names. I do know they are both longtime Cubs fans and season ticket holders. And in the short time I spent with them, this little episode seems totally in-character for this husband and wife team.
I met them last year at the season ticket holder entrance in right field, and we started talking before the gates opened. I wound up sitting with them (same seats as you see in the video, which is apparently where they always sit) while I waited for a friend who never showed up. Instead, I was treated to a barrage of bleacher anecdotes, Cubs chatter, and friendly ribbing with the other season ticket holders and regulars in their section. These are the kind of people who have never met a stranger, and as a new Cubs season ticket holder, I was welcomed with open (metaphorical) arms.
The next day I had another friend in tow, and we arrived at the game just before the first pitch. There weren’t many open seats in the bleachers by then, but my new friends had saved us a couple in case we showed up. And while I usually prefer to sit closer to the field, these two do have a pretty good spot if you’re looking to catch a homer. I wound up misplaying one that second day in the stands. At the time I was a little embarrassed for missing what should have been an easy catch. Now I’m just glad she didn’t dump a beer on me.
Let’s hear about the memorable characters you’ve met at Wrigley. Ronnie Woo-Woo does not count.