On a warm sunny afternoon at Wrigley Field, one of the regal venues in America, the wretched times are still delaying an obliterated franchise, visibly entertaining a bellyaching crowd in attendance mainly for the traditional seventh-inning singing, or the expensive taste of beer.
It’s almost overwhelming that much activity hasn’t been seen on Waveland Avenue—oddly enough, becoming a quiet street as a depressed population hasn’t bothered attempting to catch a home run ball dropping into the residential zone. But times are hopeless and pathetic these days, yet devastated fanatics attend games for a fun afternoon at the ballpark and a ...
