Biggest Fan

On Wednesday evening Brother Bryan, Sister Kelly, Sister Kelly's boyfriend Chris and I journeyed north to Wrigley Field to witness, in person, a Major League Baseball contest between the Chicago Cubs and the Houston Astros.

Because I stopped watching baseball shortly after the Dodgers left Brooklyn in 1958, I spent much of the lengthy sports game sipping alcoholic beverages and cursing my paltry cell phone reception while awaiting my favorite bit of the action—the seventh-inning stretch.  
And, true to form, it didn't disappoint.

As a matter of fact, so shitfaced on enthusiasm was I following the crowd's emotive rendition of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" that I turned to my sister as we shuffled out of the stadium minutes later and blurted, "Man, the Cubbies sure are looking great this year!"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure we've lost like twenty more games than we've won," she replied.

"Yeah, well we're kickin' ass tonight!" I sparred back, undeterred.

"We sure are," she said, pointing to the mammoth scoreboard affixed to the outside of the stadium.