Chicago, my kind of town. Why do I only go every thirty-nine years? I actually think I appreciated it more this time, through the extended perceptions of my younger traveling companions. Wrigley in '72 was not nearly the "religious experience" of Monday night, when a capacity crowd rose yet again in the 7th inning to give spirited, full-throated, unironic voice to our real national anthem. Harry's been gone for several years, but only in body.
Then, the improbable 1-0 win against the 1st-place Brewers sealed, there was this victory anthem. Younger Daughter, a Cubs fan by choice, was in heaven. We all were.