Scouting Report on the Author
I grew up on a farm. We had five TV channels and that meant I only ever saw the Cubs afternoon games on WGN or whoever was in the World Series- which happened to be the Yankees more often than not growing up in the late 90’s early 2000’s. So I’ve always been partial to both. I was always sort of a tom-boy and my dad has openly admitted he wanted me to be a boy… so cue my grandma cutting bows off any clothes I owned (per my request) and my dad building me and my sis a make-shift baseball field, complete with back stop- in our backyard, and you’ve got all the makings of a passionate baseball kid.
I was lucky enough to have parents who gave us the world. So when we finally got a chance to go to Wrigley Field as a family, I wasn’t about to stop at one pretzel. We had cotton candy, hot dogs, soda, souvenirs. I was one lucky little ginger. I didn’t realize it at the time, or even years later, how lucky I was (am). When I attended my first game as an adult (and by adult, I mean legally I was an adult, but as for maturity level-well, that’s up for debate). How did my parent’s do this? Between tickets, parking and snacks my dad could be sitting on his boat in Florida sipping pink drinks with little umbrellas; and my mom could be on her own boat across the gulf because they would probably be driving each other nuts. Either way, they would have a lot more dough saved up. So a huge shout out to all the parents, guardians, teachers, aunts, uncles, etc that have sacrificed their bank roll and sanity to give kids an experience that will shape their love for sports (or food, or playing hooky).
Kevin and I met in January 2015. Neither of us can agree on what the date was- but either way, we met online and bonded over our mutual love for elastic waiste-d pants, encased meats and sports. Yea, you read that right- we don’t have a fake story about how we bumped into each other at a baseball game while we both reached for the last of the relish in the hot dog stand, we met the good ole 21st century way- online. Fast forward four years and our adventures have led us to over 23 MLB stadiums together, 5 NFL stadiums, and countless Vegas trips anytime a major sporting event warrants me to drop a mortgage payment in a sports book while sipping a Bud Light (and probably clutching a racing program far too tightly).
Now that you know a little back story, here’s the real truth. Kevin loves baseball. He loves the smell of the grass, the crack of the bat, the colors of the ballpark (he’ll kill me when he reads this since he’s color blind and I don’t think he can tell whether the ivy is dead or alive in Wrigley, but I digress). Me, well, I love sports. I love the competition, the comradory, the fact that anything can happen at any given moment. I’m a Chicago fan first and foremost, so I know first hand that anything can happen on a Tuesday in November; or that 17 seconds can change the outcome of a game, a series, and a city (thanks Blackhawks for that 2010 run, and bringing hockey back to Chicago). But here we are. A die hard fan hanging on every pitch count, every statistic, every ball or strike… And me- sipping a cold beer, eating a hot dog (or 2) and root, root, rooting for the home team. What can I say, I like summer, I like baseball and I guess I kinda like this guy that I chose this adventure with.
Editor’s note: I would like to thank all the friends and family who have taken in my mangy mutt of a pup while we’ve gone on these extended trips. Other than a road trip to Cincy, we usually leave Roy with grandma & grandpa or a friend that’s willing to take dog cuddles & a postcard as payment for watching Roy for a few days. Cheers- this hot dog’s for you.
Editor’s Note (Part 2): Cut me a break. I started this blog when we were already 21 stadiums deep on this list. So we’ve done some amazing stadium trips, seen some great games, and eaten some phenomenal hot dogs- but I can’t recall them all but I’ll attempt to fill in what I can.
