I'm really too frustrated to write about the White Sox today.  I hope they enjoy their day off and everyone gets rejuvenated.  I think the Sox bullpen arms, especially those with low mileage the last couple of years (Santos, Putz) are beginning to feel the effects of a full season.  Unfortunately, with Kenny's deft trading, there is nothing left in the cupboard to come rescue them.  As optimistic as I have been this year, I see the iceberg and I don't know if the ship is going to be able to steer clear.

Anyway, more on the significance of the Minnesota series tomorrow.  Today, it's witness to history.

Back in 1973, you could actually get into Wrigley Field.  For five bucks, you could buy grandstand tickets.  Grandstand tickets were considered everything above the main concourse.  There were no club seats, no family section, no premiem box seats, there were box seats below the concourse and grandstand above it. 

So, my buddies and I would grab the Northwestern in Palatine, get off at Irving Park,  take the bus to Clark Street and walk the eight blocks to Wrigley.  What was really cool is most of us were under 16 in an era where that didn't matter.  We'd usually go to three or four games a year.  And long before Wrigley was known as a national landfill landmark, you'd be looking at maybe 20,000 tops for most of the games.

On this day, we went to see Hank Aaron, who came into play with 702 home runs.  In the bottom of the sixth inning, our neighborhood leader (for lack of a better term) DR Superstar told another neighborhood guy, Jim, to head on out to Waveland because he thought Aaron might hit one in the top of the seventh becasue Jim had brought his glove to the game.  Jim decided against it and stayed in the park.  Unfortunately for Jim, Aaron's next at bat didn't stay in the park and some lucky soul has Hank Aaron's 703rd career home run.   I'll never forget how mad DR Superstar was at Jim letting loose a stream of expletives to which Jim kept saying "you could have gone out there!" to which DR said "I told you to go out there!"  Looking back, our neighborhood would have made a great reality show.

No one asked me to go out because they figured even if Hank hit it right to me, I'd drop it.

August 16, 1973 .  I was there.

 You may wonder why as a die hard Sox fan I was even at Wrigley Field.  As I mentioned, it was easy for us to get to and between the five dollar admission, the forty cent hot dogs, maybe a sixty cent slice of Ron Santo's pro pizza and a frosty malt, plus train and bus fair, we could do it on our own, no adult needed for about $20.  We sold candy that summer for a less than above board outfit called "The National Youth Clubs of America" and I made a boatload of money. 

If we wanted to see the Sox play, we had to have an adult drive us because going to Comiskey at night for a group of teen kids (I was twelve in 1973) was a very risky proposition.  So, we were happy going to any game we could.

I think back on this and notice how much everything has changed.  Now, getting a ticket to Wrigley is tough.  Sitting in the left field corner like we used to would cost more money than we could ever come up with, not to mention the prices for food (although we'd have more choices.)  It's sad, really, and I am fortunate to have grown up at a time and in an era where seven neighborhood buddies could actually go to ballgame with having to rely on an adult to take us.

Next time, how we walked ten miles uphill to school with no shoes.