GIANTS IN CHICAGO

Just got back from a wonderful trip to Chicago to watch game 1 of the 4-game series between the Giants and Cubs. The weather was perfect: warm, clear, not humid, never smothering.

I lived two blocks north of the park for nearly 7 years, but never once visited it. How strange, then, to sit in terrace seats behind home plate 11 years after leaving Chicago to watch a game between my two favorite teams.

The only thing that would have made that exciting game even more memorable was a Giants team that was more of a match for the white-hot Cubbies. Tim Lincecum and Rich Hill duelled beautifully for 6 innings, each giving up 1 run. The game heated up considerably in the 8th, with the Giants taking a 2-1 lead before the Cubs -- with the awesome support of the most vibrant, well-behaved fans I've ever seen -- fought back with 2 hair-raising runs in the bottom of the same inning. Cubs won 3-2.

When we flooded, sated, out of the park, the whole neighborhood seemed to buzz with happy tidings. There's no type of fan more fun to hang with than a happy Cubs fan. Usually free drinks are involved!

Highlights of the game included that moment in the 5th when Pedro Feliz hit a homer to center left and the fans threw the ball back onto the field. "Tie game?" they seemed to say. "Oh, no you didn't!"

I had the pleasure of meeting the gentleman -- Richard Streetman -- who sang the national anthem. Admit it, we're all bored to tears with mediocre renditions by "Who the fuck is that?" (Today's game, anyone?) Richard's crystal clear voice was made for anthems -- or anything requiring that white-guy soulfulness that usually only comes out of boys from the South. Beyond his pipes, Richard is also an incredibly charming man. We hung out together at a few local bars and had good fun getting to know each other. Richard Streetman -- remember that name. He may now work for the Cook County Sheriff's Office, and may be able to count Hillary Clinton among his peeps, but he's salt of the earth and killer company. Go Richard!

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The guts of the Friendly Confines.

How can one resist snapping the most identifiable scoreboard in baseball?

The jarring specter of Harry Caray hovering over Giants broadcasters (bottom middle) Mike Krukow and Jon Miller.

Ryan Theriot and Daryle Ward, players in their prime.