There's no crying in baseball

Photo Credit: ChicagoNowI know. I know I know I know I know.

Almost doesn't count.

Except -- as TG is fond of reminding me -- in the case of horseshoes, hand grenades, and the atom bomb.

This was none of those things.

Not by a long shot.

This is about the moment I almost met Theo Epstein.

Allow me to elaborate.

TG and I went to Chicago in mid-August, to take in a Cubs game at Wrigley. 

We tooled into the Windy City on a Tuesday, in the early afternoon. We checked into our Wrigleyville hotel and made our way to the ball park.

The weather was perfect and we went through the gate in time to (each) receive a free Kris Bryant action figure.

Then TG got me a Coke in a commemorative cup depicting the iconic final out of the 2016 Word Series, wherein Kris Bryant flung the ball flawlessly into the waiting glove of my favorite Cub, first-baseman Anthony Rizzo.

We were psyched.

Except, the Cubs lost the game. Oh they'd won the night before, and they won the next night -- rather spectacularly. But our game? Nah.

Okay let's be positive: We were there, absorbing Wrigley and Chicago and Cubs culture. My favorite Cubs pitcher, Kyle "The Professor" Hendricks, was on the mound.

I got a few pictures, but not nearly enough.

So it was that the next day, after enjoying a delicious breakfast at a diner across the street from our hotel, TG and I checked out of said accommodations and went back to Wrigley Field.

I wanted to walk around without the game-time crowd, and check out a thing or two not shackled by the time restraints one feels on game night.

I wandered through the Cubs Store, and admired the 2016 World Series trophy.

When I'd had my fill, TG went to get the car -- parked across the street, next to the Wrigleyville Firehouse on Waveland Avenue -- and I waited, admiring both the firehouse and the Wrigley Rooftop buildings beside it.

School children on some sort of a trip filed past me wearing neon green t-shirts. The metal detectors flashed green too, at the many entrances to the old stadium.

I glanced behind me just in time to see a man emerge from the innards of the ball park, a cagey-looking door held open for him by a security guard. There was no one else around; just me and the man, who walked directly towards me.

He was dressed in business casual: dark slacks with a knife-edge crease, leather loafers, pale-blue shirt open at the collar, no tie, and an expensive-looking sport coat.

When the sharp-dressed man got close enough to me that I could have brushed a piece of lint from his bespoke lapel (which contained no lint), he looked right at me and smiled. Such blue eyes. I think I was already smiling because I was just so happy to be there.

Then he passed me and walked directly toward a building that contains the Chicago Cubs executive offices.

And in that instant I knew that the man was Theo Epstein, President of Baseball Operations for the Chicago Cubs, the man credited with guiding the club to their first World Series win in one-hundred-eight years.

And that he was getting away.

Everything slowed to slower than slow-mo. In my mind I was raising my hand in a come baaaack gesture (that he wouldn't have seen), and saying loudly but not unlady-likely voice (which he wouldn't have heard, since it was only in my head):

Thhheeeeeeooooooooo ... 

And then the glossy doors of the office building, with the giant LED screen just inside, flashing images of Cub glories past and present, swallowed him and he was gone.

I'd missed my shot. And even though it was close, as you know, a miss is as good as a mile. 

Regrets? I've had a few. And that will always be one of them.

I missed my chance to have a selfie with Theo Epstein on a gorgeous August morning with Wrigley Field itself as the backdrop.

When TG pulled our car to the curb sixty seconds later, I was sputtering and stammering and managed to explain that Theo Epstein had just walked right by me and smiled and I -- the pirate -- had been mute. Unable to speak.

That's not something you see very often.

TG chuckled and kidded me about being such a noodle. I berated myself as we drove away from Wrigleyville, out onto Lake Shore Drive and back east.

As Wayne Gretzky said: You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don't take.

Why didn't I speak? I wondered. Ah well. Perhaps there will be a next time.

Here are some sweet kids who, on a recent occasion at British Columbia Children's Hospital in Vancouver, really did meet Captain Jack Sparrow.

An experience they're not likely to forget, any more than my almost-selfie with Theo on a fabled Chicago sidewalk, will fade from my memory.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Wednesday

Comments

[Mari]

I've had a few moments like that, a split second when you realize you've missed something. Aaaagh! I laughed our loud when I read that you said it rendered you speechless. It's a rare thing indeed! :)

[irene]

Oh Pirate! what can I say... you were in his orbit...

[Judy]

Yes--my Arnold Palmer moment. When he looked directly at me, as he passed, close enough to hug, his eyes were so blue that they stunned me

[Luna Crone]

But maybe... But maybe... It was better this way. To your idol, you were a lovely, smiling lady, whom he happened to pass. A lovely, smiling lady, who did not get all "fan girl." Who was.... a Lady.

And maybe... And maybe.... His passing meeting with you, was so much nicer to him, than another encounter, with another flustered, "fan girl."

Maybe.....?

There! Doesn't that make you feel better, for the way, the walk-by encounter, turned out.

You just keep remembering, being the Lady.

Gentle hugs,
Luna Crone

[Jennifer]

@Mari ... I have a "missed something" moment about twelve times a day. But this ... this was unforgivable. *sob*

@Irene ... yes, but so briefly. xoxo

@Judy ... that's very cool. xoxo

@Luna ... I don't think Theo gets females fangirling over him so much, as he's more of a behind-the-scenes guy, and he's far from being my idol, haaahahahaa but I DO wish I'd said Hi Mr. Epstein! Thanks for everything! LOL xoxo

[sally]

Oh Jenny - I missed this post until right now. hahaha You crack me up. Yep, it probably would have done that Mr. a pleasant occasion had you said "Oh, I think I know you! ". But, being the lady that you are, you didn't.

I've got news for Judy - I spent an entire weekend in the same party house as Arnold Palmer. Nice as he could be. :)

xoxo