God, I love Wrigley Field.
I always get excited about heading to a Cubs game, but I’d be lying if I told you that some of my sojourns to the corner of Clark and Addison didn’t feel more like a duty that I had to perform grudgingly. Sure, there were moments here and there, like organizing my buddy’s bachelor party and seeing Jake Arrieta shut out the Cardinals in his first start last season. Or watching my kids’ faces light up when they got to meet Clark in the concourse. But those were more the exception than the rule.