I just married the most ardent Cubs fan in town.
OK, I guess we have to define “”ardent.” She doesn’t use face paint. She doesn’t have any logo jewelry, tattoos or piercings. Our home isn’t festooned with memorabilia. She can’t recite endless stats of the current team, nor rattle off rosters from previous years.
But she feels the love for her team as passionately as anyone I’ve ever been around. Her father brought her to the Wrigley Field bleachers as a little girl, usually with her sister and four young female cousins, six Pierce Street cuties watching the game while the old man had a couple. It was her Sunday bliss.
So now she maintains one can never be in a bad mood at Wrigley Field. She glows there.
Our wedding day was scheduled with an afternoon game in mind. Morning ceremony, followed by Bloody Marys and breakfast, all wrapped up by noon so guests who’d want in could make it to first pitch of the Cubs game.
Well of course guests wanted in. We were paying.
To read the full article, with it’s thrilling conclusion and genuine “One To Grow On” lesson, click here.