Take Me Out To The Ball Game

     As I walk through the crowds of people, all clad in the team's signature colors, the excitement is palpable. A woman checks my ticket, and I'm officially allowed into the stadium. Then I find myself immersed in a world of souvenir and food stands, all things branded with the team's logo. My nostrils are infested by the smell of ball park hot dogs that aren't quite the same anywhere else in the world. Eventually, I manage to weave my way through the shops and to the darkness of the tunnel. I know what's before me, I know what's to come. I had seen pictures of Wrigley Field before. It had been shown in countless movies. But as I neared the light at the end of the tunnel, and the anticipation peaked, I could not have been prepared for what I was about to experience.
    The brilliant sunlight made the bright green of the baseball diamond absolutely blinding. The sight of the players, the enormity of the 50,000 person stadium, the smell of the field, it was all so overwhelming. Foam finger in hand, I took my seat, the players warmed up, the national anthem was sung, and it was time. Play ball!

    My dad decided that it was his right and his duty as a father to take each of his daughters to a Cubs baseball game at Wrigley Field at least once before we graduate high school. Last year, right before my older sister's graduation, my dad fulfilled this wish for her. Today, my time had come. I have never been one to appreciate sports. Yes, they can be fun, but if I'm flipping through channels on TV, I would never stop and watch a baseball game. I expected that I would somewhat enjoy this event, but eventually find myself keeping an eye on my watch out of boredom. I expected to make this a check off of my bucket list, and then never wanting to go back. I couldn't have been more wrong.
    There's nothing quite like going to the ball park, Wrigley Field at that, the ball park of all ball parks, with my dad, and experiencing the competition, the rush, the camaraderie of the sport. This game was extra special to me, because the Cubs were playing the Cincinnati Reds - the same team they played when my Dad saw his first Cubs game as a little boy. Back when he brought his own catcher's mitt, dreaming of catching a fowl ball. Before today, I had no special attachment to the Cubs, or baseball in general. However, whenever a player did something remotely good, I would find myself standing and cheering at the top of my lungs. At the seventh inning stretch, I knew I was hooked on the excitement of the game. As I stood with my dad, his arm around me, as we screamed the words to "Take Me Out To The Ball Game", Cracker Jack and peanuts in hand, I knew nothing could be more special between a father and a daughter.