A core memory in developing my love for baseball, my first experience at Wrigley Field made it clear even to a child that it was all more than just a game to fans in Chicago.
I’ve made it no secret in my material on this site that my love for baseball has been lifelong and developed at an incredibly early age – though I’d be lying if I said I had a particular memory of my very first time watching baseball.
Being born in 1996, I have no memories of the 1998 home run chase between Sammy Sosa and Mark McGwire, nor do I even have any memories of the Subway Series Fall Classic in 2000 between the New York Yankees and New York Mets.
Somewhere along the line over the following year, I became incredibly enamored with the sport – an interest that expanded far beyond just tuning into WGN to watch the Cubs. I began collecting baseball cards and books about the game’s history, and naturally grew more and more curious about it all.
The 2001 season is surely what brought me into MLB fandom, as it had so many things going for it. From Barry Bonds chasing and breaking the single-season home run record to the return of a competitive Cubs team and perhaps a peak Sammy Sosa, every night across the league felt like must-watch TV. There was no turning back after my dad purchased the MLB Extra Innings package, which led me to be glued to the TV every night to see the talent around the league.
I naturally wanted to go to a baseball game, but that didn’t exactly go to plan the first time around. My dad attempted to take me to what was then Comiskey Park II to watch the Chicago White Sox take on the Baltimore Orioles in Cal Ripken Jr.’s final season, but my fear of large crowds and the silence during the national anthem led to us leaving before the game even began. Kids are something else.
While I wouldn’t make it back to a ballpark for the rest of the season, my love for baseball grew exponentially as the season went on – to the point where the reaction of my 5-year-old self to the September 11 attacks were, “Wait, baseball is cancelled for a week?” while obviously being unaware of how much the world changed in the blink of an eye.
Even though I couldn’t possibly process what had just occurred, I do remember feeling that baseball felt even more special when action returned after the attacks, providing my vivid memories of American flags stitched above the nameplate on each jersey.
While a competitive Cubs team faltered down the stretch (Completely Useless By September, am I right?), I happily jumped on the Arizona Diamondbacks bandwagon come playoff time, a bandwagon jump aided by my parents’ affinity for longtime former Cub Mark Grace.
Of course, the 2001 postseason was one for the ages, as the 116-win Seattle Mariners fell in the American League Championship Series before the D-Backs and Yankees put on a seven-game battle for the ages.
I may have been merely a five-year-old child, but even over 24 years later, November 4, 2001 feels vividly intact, with memories of watching the series’ final moments in the family room of the house I grew up in while I imitated the wind-ups of each pitcher to take the mound.
While the offseason felt like it lasted forever as a kid, I was incredibly eager when action returned the following April, once again with access to the out-of-market package to keep up with the entire league, particularly holding an affinity for watching west coast games late at night.
It wasn’t long after the 2002 season began when my dad began to plan a trip to a Cubs game at Wrigley Field, giving me my first experience at the Friendly Confines.
Though the 2002 season was remarkably forgettable for Cubs fans sans a great Sammy Sosa season and the debut of Mark Prior, a Cubs-Cardinals matchup in early May still held plenty of intrigue – particularly with the Cardinals being a playoff team the two previous years led by second-year phenom Albert Pujols.
Prior to going to the Cubs game, my exposure to Chicago as a suburban kid was essentially limited to the block my grandmother lived on in Bridgeport on the city’s South Side and the downtown area, which made heading up to Lakeview for the first time feel like entering a different world.
I recall my dad parking somewhere near the downtown area, with us taking a northbound Clark Street bus to get up to Wrigleyville, where I remember having to pick up tickets from a nearby broker, back when that was still a thing.
A classic Chicago-area experience of skipping school to go to a weekday Cubs game, the conditions were what many could have guessed for an afternoon near the shoreline of Lake Michigan. Though as a kid it certainly felt a bit colder, I don’t think too many fans would complain about 12 mph winds, overcast skies and a 61 degree temperature, which were the listed conditions for game time on May 8, 2002.
The game certainly started out more exciting than it finished, with the Cardinals striking first thanks to a sac fly from Tino Martinez in the first inning, with Cubs starter Juan Cruz limiting the damage to just one run after loading the bases with only one out.
The highlight of the game for myself and the rest of the Cubs’ faithful at Wrigley Field came the following half inning, with Sammy Sosa himself taking St. Louis right-hander Matt Morris deep for a go-ahead two-run home run to give Chicago a 2-1 lead. Sitting several rows back towards the outfield on the first-base line, the Sosa home run was the first long ball I had ever seen in person, still holding a faint memory of the ball flying out into the left-field bleachers, on the opposite side of the field from my vantage point.
The Cardinals eventually got to Cruz in the fourth inning, thanks to an RBI single from Mike Difelice and a sac fly from leadoff hitter Fernando Viña, giving St. Louis a 3-2 lead that they would not relinquish for the rest of the game.
From there, it was another run-of-the-mill Cubs loss to a division rival in an underwhelming season. All four of the Cubs’ hits in the game came in the game’s first two innings, with the North Siders failing to capitalize on any traffic generated from walks as well. As for Morris, the righty continued to stymie the Cubs throughout the day, lasting eight innings and throwing 126 pitches alongside 10 strikeouts in what was a winning effort.
Among my clearest memories from the game was that of watching Jason Isringhausen warm up in the Cardinals bullpen during the eighth inning, with the renowned closer entering the game in the ninth to slam the door on the Cubs. With that said, there was still a little drama at the end, at least enough to make a 6-year-old kid think that a magical ending was perhaps right around the corner.
After a one-out walk from Mark Bellhorn, Isringhausen managed to strike out Alex Gonzalez before Bellhorn stole second base during the following hitter’s at-bat, putting the tying run in scoring position for future AL batting champion Bill Mueller.
While Mueller slammed a 2-2 offering on the ropes to left field, the line drive was routinely fielded by Pujols, giving the eventually NLCS-bound Cardinals a 3-2 victory, improving their 2002 record at the time to 15-19. The loss for the Cubs brought their record to 13-19, with the 2002 Cubs eventually finishing 67-95.
Despite the loss and relatively unremarkable events of the game, the experience was still beyond special for a wide range of reasons. I got to see perhaps the best ballpark the league has to offer with my own eyes in a rivalry game nonetheless, while also gaining the confidence as a young kid that I could handle being around crowds at games.
It goes without saying, but the experience undoubtedly served as a catalyst to sporting events being my favorite way to get out of the house, always entering with the allure of potentially seeing something incredibly rare and historic, especially when it comes to baseball.
While the 2002 season didn’t exactly give me any reason to believe in the Cubs, I was still baseball-obsessed the entire summer and remained glued to the screen that October to eventually watch the Anaheim Angels triumph over the San Francisco Giants.
Of course, the following season was magical until it wasn’t, with the Cubs winning the National League Central and coming within five outs of winning their first pennant since 1945 before a seismic collapse to the Florida Marlins, who eventually won it all that same season.
Even through the heartbreak of that as a young kid, the loss didn’t make me lose my fascination or love for baseball even for a second – and I think that’s when it was probably clear that I was sucked in to make it a part of my life for good, which it certainly has been.
I think back on that May 2002 game quite a bit, because it reminds me of the sheer magic kids can feel at a ballpark. It’s an atmosphere unlike anything else, watching a game you love and are only vaguely familiar with being played at the highest level, getting to spend time with your family and indulge in sweet junk food you probably aren’t allowed to eat at home. Memories like these are why sports hold the meaning they do culturally, and why it’s more than just a game for millions of people – because these games and experiences are deeply intertwined with the closest relationships many hold with their friends and family.
I really started to think about my experiences on that day and as a young baseball fan in general when I attended a Mariners/A’s game at the Oakland Coliseum on Labor Day in 2024, just weeks before the A’s played their final game in Oakland.
A picture-perfect day with a strangely large crowd, I couldn’t help but notice a family a couple rows away from me, with three kids that were having the absolute time of their lives – jumping up and down, joyfully cheering for every base hit and strikeout while looking around in awe of everything they were experiencing.
Then I started to cry, with the countless joyous memories I had at baseball games as a kid and adult for that matter flooding back to me all at once as I started to think about what a single greedy individual was taking away from a city. Decades of baseball history and memories for countless families thrown away for greed in an unfortunate culmination of what was a lengthy self-sabotage effort from John Fisher throughout the 2000’s and 2010’s.
Baseball games aren’t special for every kid, and I honestly have no clue how special they may be to today’s children – I don’t know if I’d love baseball the same way I do if it wasn’t for growing up watching Barry Bonds, Sammy Sosa and Manny Ramirez play. But for the kids that it is special to, it’s more than just a toy or game that will be grown out of and forgotten within a matter of months – it’s a lifelong passion that forms a bond and pastime with their friends and family of the future.
I can’t think of too many other things you can give to a kid that can do that.
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