Let no one say that Mike Downey ever missed a Monday afternoon game between the Florida Marlins and Montreal Expos on the South Side of Chicago in the middle of September.
I am a lucky man, having now been to the Olympic Games, the Super Bowl, Wimbledon, the Kentucky Derby and a Florida vs. Montreal baseball game in Chicago. Yes, it is true. I do get to go to all the big ones.
Don’t be jealous. You too could have been there Monday with the 4,003 fans who stormed into … no, streamed into … uh, stumbled into U.S. Cellular Field to see the Chicago White Fish make their home debut.
I brought Jack McKeon a big cigar before the game because I like to make a good impression on all of our teams’ managers.
“Thanks. I’ll light up right now,” McKeon said, and he did, right there in the White Fish dugout.
Outside the gates, David P. Samson, the president of the White Fish, took it upon himself to personally greet some of Chicago’s hundreds of White Fish fans, thanking them for coming.
For each ticket bought, $5 was donated to a Florida hurricane relief fund. I am proud of our White Fish and urge fans to come see them play Tuesday too.
On a dugout bench–the home team’s dugout, of course–Larry Beinfest, the general manager of our White Fish, sat back and said, “I have always found fans in Chicago to be terrific. They’re cordial, they’re professional, they’re supportive.”
Take a bow, White Fish fans.
A lot of you cheered when Fish mascot Billy the Marlin threw out the first pitch, even though the tall right-giller’s delivery to Fish catcher Matt Treanor was jusssst a bit outside. (Like about 3 feet.)
And a lot of you cheered when a White Fish fan was escorted off the premises by security guards during the very first inning for interfering with a ball in play. (Some things never change.)
And a lot of you cheered “Paulie! Paulie!” for that fine White Fish catcher of the day, Paul Lo Duca, just the way fans in this park do for that other Mr. Paul you seem to like, Konerko.
And a lot of you cheered when White Fish pitcher Josh Beckett picked up a bat and rapped out the first base hit by a pitcher in the 13-year history of this park.
“It’s nice to be in the record book for something,” Beckett said, although frankly, it didn’t sound to me as if he put it up there with being MVP of the 2003 World Series.
Oh, it felt so much like October 2003 out there, didn’t it, White Fish fans?
You had young Beckett, snarling and throwing strike after strike … and old-timer McKeon puffing away … and Juan Pierre and Luis Castillo scampering around the bases … and an Alex Gonzalez at shortstop for both sides …
And a goofy eighth inning again, just for old times’ sake.
It made me glad that the White Fish were right here on the South Side instead of way down there in South Florida, wasting away in Marlinville.
I liked finding that leafy plant by the White Fish clubhouse with the handwritten sign on it: “Welcome to your second home, Marlins.” (I didn’t bring it, honest … just the cigar.)
I liked spotting Jerry Reinsdorf as he walked through the “crowd” and wondered whether this game reminded him of the time his White Sox nearly packed up their bats and balls and moved to St. Petersburg.
I liked hearing McKeon’s line–before and after the game–that he found Ozzie Guillen’s checkbook in the manager’s desk and would have fun spending all of Ozzie’s money.
And OK, so I did feel bad for Cubs fans when the White Fish pulled out the game in that ugly eighth.
“You got a lot of White Sox fans here who don’t like the Cubs, so they cheer for us,” McKeon said. “You also got quite a few Cubs fans here who want to see us go down the tubes.”
I ordinarily would want to see Florida go down the tubes … in the National League, I mean, not in a hurricane.
But for a few hours of my life, I became a White Fish fan because this was my home team.
And if the Fish win the World Series again, I might even pass out cigars. I can’t keep waiting for our other two baseball teams forever, you know.
