Saturday June 9th, 2012
Margie Lawrence (Guest Blogger): Having grown up blocks from the friendly confines of Wrigley Field, I had no choice but to fall in love with the Cubs.
The organ music and cheers of the crowd would drift through the open windows of my school, which sat a mere block from the bleacher entrance. And like many of my loves, the Cubs have disappointed me, but I still keep the hope alive that one day everything will be all right in the world and they—we— will win a World Series.
My first baseball memory involved 20 or so family members crowded around the portable TV cheering Sandy Koufax on during the 1963 World Series. Later on, I would pretend I was Sandy or Fergie Jenkins or Ken Holtzman, throwing what I perceived to be a curve ball at a small painted square on a brick wall. That square was always Mickey Mantle, for some reason. I was 11, it was 1969. My height was about that of a munchkin, and I may have weighed at 65 pounds. If only I could have played on a Little League team…but damn those girl chromosomes. (And damn those Mets!) Read the rest of this entry