The View From the Cell

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz................As anyone who watched the game on Saturday will attest, it was a snoozer. No hits, no runs, no errors--I don't remember any anyway. The Cell on a spring day is a lovely place to be. The smell of bratwurst cooking and sweet cotton candy being consumed overwhelms us as we emerge from the darkness of the vendor arena into the warm sunshine of the bleachers. Oooh, that grass on the field is so green, so welcoming. Nancy is cranking on the organ, or maybe it was a recording--I don't know as she isn't there so often anymore. Either way, I'm digging the music and the atmosphere. This is my favorite place to be, win or lose. I get goosebumps when they start playing the White Sox video and music from Pirates of the Carribean. I'm psyched when "Thunderstruck" is blared.

The family, and our friend Laura, are decked out in our White Sox gear. This is our new annual Mother's Day celebration, as we have been going on this day for the past 3 years. Laura and I sit like queens in our souvenir caps/crowns while the family is willing to fetch us cold beers. The sun was warm on our faces and the breeze kept us from overheating. It was ideal weather for a game--if only the team co-operated. They tried, but fell short of giving us a win (or a run) guaranteeing us the perfect baseball outing.

I will forgive them, this time, as they have been surprisingly exciting this year. Paulie and Thome have been a huge disappointment, but Quentin has made up for that. I'm glad that we still have Joe (Crede)--he is the quiet force to be reckoned with at third, although he needs a few more hits. Love Pablo, hate Anderson. I like Swish and his let's-have-some-fun attitude. I even liked the blow-up doll episode. Ahhhh, the boys. Love them.

And it isn't a White Sox outing until those memories of games past are tapped, and I fondly recall my wild youth (much to my family's chagrin), and I ask the dreaded question............."Did I ever mention I was at Disco Demolition?" I think I heard a sigh. "Yeah, Mom. Pass the peanuts."