March 17, 2008
Spring Training
Being on the island this weekend that the Chicago Cubs spent some thirty spring trainings, minus the war years, I felt I had to make an effort at putting out a cosmic message about the possible pending name change of Wrigley Field. William Wrigley Jr. owned Catalina Island for many years and brought the Cubs there during a time when Hollywood was glamorous and people traveled in suits and ascots.
Wrigley was buried on a hill at the top of Avalon. Eventually the Wrigley family had his body returned to Chicago but the grand tiled memorial still stands overlooking the town and the harbor. I made a pilgrimage to the entrance of the botanical gardens that are at the foot of the memorial. At the end of the road there's a cut-out circle of dirt and stone that serves as the turn-about for the trollies and golf carts that are the favored modes of transportation around town. After a group of tourists passed by I went to the dirt mound and dug my right toe in. I clasped my hands to my chest, looked behind me, to my left, to my right. I brought my left knee up to my elbows and threw an air pitch straight at the sun drenched edifice.
Turning back towards town, I pressed play on my iPod. The song that came up was from Ry Cooder's Chavez Ravine, an album all about the displacement of thousands of people to make way for Dodger Stadium. The Wrigley renaming rights issue doesn't exactly compare with that upheaval but I found it as an appropriate soundtrack.
Avalon was crisp and clear and as fiercely windy as Chicago on a winter's day. I'd like to think that the wind could carry that air ball and knock some sense into Sam Zell's head. Most people say that whatever happens Wrigley Field will always be Wrigley Field. Maybe in the history books, but our descendant's descendants won't give a rats ass as long as their Verizon/AT&T/Comcast/United sponsors are making their connections. Unless the Cubs win the series while it's still Wrigley. I should have thrown a few more pitches. And maybe buy a lot of gum.
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