*First Cubs Game

Luca can recite the middle name of every Cubs player. Plus their favorite pizza toppings. He even knows the names of their secret road families.

It would be high dad crimes not to take him to his *first Cubs game. I asterisk it because we technically took Luca to his first game years ago. But he doesn’t remember it. I remember it as when a bunch of old timer Cubs fans wanted to murder me for bringing a two year old into their hallowed row.

I bought three tickets, assuming both boys would be up for missing a day of school. Surprisingly, Elijah said no. After I shouted, “NERD!” I realized these were his last weeks at grade school and Eli wanted to relish the last few moments of youth before he becomes a jaded middle schooler.

Luckily, my pal Patrick loves playing hooky and snapped up the extra ticket. Plus, I wouldn’t feel weird about drinking beer by myself. Give or take 40,000 other beer guzzlers.

Because Luca is a Hamann through and through, he asked if we could go to the game 2 hours early. Mmmm…early. So delicious.

We sat in the bleachers section because Luca was 100% certain he would catch a home run. I explained to him that if the opposing team hit one out, the tradition was to throw it back. Luca said he would not be planning on giving up a well-earned ball. I explained the concept of getting a beer poured on your head and he reconsidered.

Batting practice began and baseballs started raining down into the bleachers. Luca prayed aloud one would reach our seats. He was drowned out by my prayers of the opposite. A few balls came close, but we weren’t in any real danger of humiliating ourselves in front of our sons.

The temperature was in the mid 90’s so the beer tasted delicious. But the pleasure I felt after 2 cold ones was nothing compared to the utter joy Luca felt being in the stands. I was almost brought to tears watching his face light up every time a Cub player so much as adjusted his jock strap. He was convinced the outfielder nearest us liked him best of all and not the lady in the t-shirt behind us.

We stayed until the very last out and sang the Cub victory song. Luca and I then experienced the time honored tradition of cramming on the El with thousands of drunk fans.

 I distinctly heard Luca whisper, “Best day ever,” to himself. And I could die a happy man.