by Stephen Jones
Today is Wrigley Field’s anniversary.
One hundred years of longevity.
In New York, where short-term memory
Is “What have you done for me lately,”
It often means tearing down history
For the sake of the quick monetary.
As someone prescient once said
When the wrecking ball was poised
To bring down Ebbets Field stature,
“When it’s gone, it’s gone forever.”
All this reflection just to say:
To Wrigley Field . . . Happy Birthday.
A good portion of the city got torn down in 1871.
Not for monetary.
I’m guessing that for Cubs fans, the perfect way to celebrate the 100th Anniversary of Wrigley Field is to host (and WIN) a World Series. Although I’m a Yankees fan, I can’t help but be a tiny bit sympathetic to that wish—especially if the World Series opponent is a team like the Angels or better still, the Red Sox. But if the opponent is the Yankees, I’m going to bring a Billy Goat to a game (or to a gate, anyway) to keep the Curse of the Goat in place.
But I’d cheerfully join in a chorus of Happy Birthday to Wrigley Field (especially if it’s led by Bill Murray) followed by Billy Crystal leading us all in a round of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” in a Harry Carey-like voice. C’mon, Billy! I know you can do it!
When Chicago reinvented itself in 1871
It was with muscular certainty – building
On the monumental, and not be undone
By speculation and monetary gilding.