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When I was in the world of work and could postpone my responsibilities for three hours or so, I would sometimes hop on the elevated and find my way to Wrigley Field.
(If my former boss is reading this, it was never more than once or twice a year.)
Come the seventh-inning stretch and the camera focusing on fans, I would turn my back.
The last thing I wanted was to be seen where I was not supposed to be.
The opening of a new season causes me to remember my bashful behavior.
When I see other fans waving at the camera, hoping to be seen by friends, I want to tell them that being at a ballgame is always fun, but never more so than when one should be in the office.
