It was one of the most exciting three days I have ever experienced — being there, participating in the focal point of the entire baseball world, sharing with like-minded folks who love the game just as much as I do. The memories will last forever; yet even I — a man with a unique ability to alienate any intelligent conversation with my critical case of baseballitis — yes, even I could use a break.
Now back in Chicago, I plan to use my free afternoon to reflect on the staggering, inspirational, communitarian adventures I was privileged to have… and of course, pay tribute to the baseball gods who made it happen.
The National League lost. Oh well. I am not crying about it because it really means nothing to me. Despite the final score, the game was noteworthy for its cleanliness, its quickness, and how aside from a couple fielding errors (and only two walks — one intentional — if I remember correctly) it was one of the most correctly played games I’d ever witnessed live.
But even I am easily star-struck, and for me, perhaps the neatest thing was being able to see so many gifted athletes on one field, at one time, playing together. I have to say that from our right field bleacher seats, watching Ichiro Suzuki was a true pleasure. I have never seen one man do so much stretching in such a uniformed and regulated fashion. Before I knew it, my attention was solely focused on number 51.
Leading up to the game, I couldn’t help but fall in love with my country all over again. The tribute to the troops, the hometown all-stars, the President’s pitch and that wicked cool SR71 flyover are still giving me goosebumps.
Now, on with the photos…
It was something I will never forget.