I'm sure you'll fondly remember Wrigley Field, especially since your son shared the experience with you. Wrigley is a place where you not only watch a ball game, but you can also feel a real sense of history.
I have a Wrigley story -
Back in September, 2004, a few us GBB members met up in Chicago for a get-together. We decided to take in a Cubs game and went to Wrigley. Geoff, LaDolceVita and Don Sicilia had gotten seats in the outfield stands while I decided late to attend and bought seats for me and my friend on the first base line (between first and home). My friend was a little afraid of the possibility of getting hit by a foul ball but I told her to relax and enjoy the game. Well, in the eighth inning a foul ball was popped our way and coming right at us. I stood up, along with all those around me, and just watched the ball come right into my hands (as everyone else was reaching for it). I caught it, and started to sit down to show the ball to my friend when I saw she was covered by two guys who had been sitting behind us. I pulled one of the guys off her and sat down and showed her the ball. That's when she started screaming, looking at my hand. Blood was pouring out, getting all over my pants, and she started freaking out. Apparently, the idiot behind me had tried to catch the ball in his plastic beer cup and that had split, cutting my hand.
As luck would have it, the only first aid station in the ballpark was only a short distance away and the ushers rushed me over there. They were able to stop the bleeding but I had to go to the hospital (by cab) to get stitches.
We called Geoff to let him know what was happening (and to let him know we wouldn't be meeting up with him after the game) and his only concern was if I kept the ball.
Fun times and a good memory.
