Opening Day

If this quest peaks your interest, you can follow it more closely on Patreon!

My first Opening Day experience began a few days prior when I met a kid.

This year I decided to relive my childhood. My buddy Jimmy and I used to scour the newspaper before Spring Training or Tucson Toros AAA games to see exactly who was coming to town. We’d ride bikes or get dropped off at Mountain View Sports cards where the owner let us sit in the back room with the boxes of common cards where we’d hunch over boxes searching for that obscure name and face we’d seen on the roster. Names like Ron Coomer, whose Albuquerque Dukes card I found buried in the boxes on such an afternoon. Coom went on to play in the big leagues. He even had a stint with the Cubs and is now known worldwide as the wingman to Pat Hughes on Cubs radio. That’s exactly what Jimmy and I were hoping for! To find the guy who was obscure then, but would one day be famous. So, this year I did a little card hunting on eBay. It’s not as meditative as flipping through boxes, but it was manageable for a working adult. I made it to a few Spring Training games and a couple practices with my little security-approved clear fanny pack slung over my shoulders packed with miniature binders full of cards, sleeves, pens and a baseball just in case.

As Spring Training wound down I caught a final game with my buddy Andrew. I offered him some options; he could join me for autographs or I could skip autographs and make it a game-only day. He offered a third. He’d chill for the whole game and I could do a hybrid. That sounded good to me. When the stars got pulled in the fifth inning I made my way outside of the ballpark alone. Only a few autograph seekers were around compared to usual, and most were the type that drive me crazy. These are the dudes that used to trample guys like Jimmy, Steve and I at the games. They have binders packed with multiple duplicate cards of each player. Too many of them, and this is the worst part, seem to kind of despise the players and view their scribbled name as nothing more than a commodity. Those dudes were lurking, so I walked up closer to the clubhouse where there was one kid by the fence. Mason was a kind-natured kid with a small notebook of cards, a couple balls and a special Kyle Tucker All-Star jersey. His first question to me was which one of my cards was my favorite. I told him about the combined no-hitter card with Shota Imanaga, Nate Pearson and Porter Hodge. I had serious doubts that Pearson and Hodge would sign it. In my experience, they hadn’t been much for engaging the fans and if I didn’t get them at Spring Training, I may never have another chance.

Mason and I kept chatting. We compared notes on watching and playing baseball, getting autographs, meeting players and more. He was getting antsy, as it was time to go, but Kyle Tucker was yet to emerge. The game was nearly over, and I didn’t want to make my buddy wait around in the sun. I had only scored a few autographs for the day, most notably a really cool Julian Merryweather error card I got with Mason, but it felt like a bit of a small haul for having missed the rest of the game. Mason didn’t have a Merryweather card, so he was about to walk away with nothing. Just then an clubhouse employee emerged from the door and, instead of walking to the parking lot, made a bee-line for the two of us. It seemed odd to me. He seemed focused and I got the impression that he was going to lecture us about something. He also had something in his hands though. I couldn’t tell what it was. I acknowledged him as he neared us. He made very direct eye contact with me and quickly shoved eight batting gloves into my hands, stating intently, “These are from Ian Happ.” With that, he turned on a dime and walked away. Mason and I stared at the gloves, really unique powder blue and white and gold and red and white ones by Bruce Bolt. I divvy’d them up between us, and Mason reacted with glee, giving me a fist bump. We waited a few more minutes to attempt to thank Mr. Happ, but he didn’t emerge. With that, we went our separate ways. Mason and I had acknowledged we were both going to Opening Day, but I doubted I’d see him in the crowd.

As I drove up from Tucson on Opening Day, a few days later, I was reflecting on my friendship quest for the year and the meaning of it all. It struck me as a bit ironic that I had decided to go this game by myself, way back when the tickets were first hitting the secondary market where season ticket holders can sell before the teams open the portal for everyone else. At that point, I assumed I had class in Phoenix the same day so it made sense. The class ended up being on Zoom, so I no longer had a “good reason” to be up there. When I bought the nosebleed ticket, I also hadn’t decided to announce my memoir project on Opening Day yet. That idea had come from a conversation with my friend Pike, who had encouraged me to pick a meaningful announcement day. Since the Cubs were in Arizona for Opening Day, it felt like the pieces were clicking into place. Well, all the pieces except for one…this is a project about friendship, and I was all by myself. In moments like these, when I feel just a little bit of dissonance, I am learning to pray. I used to only pray about what seemed like big and meaningful things. These usually presented as problems in life or things that made me worry. I am learning to pray about things I wonder about or hope for. So, I prayed to God that I would know what to do at the game and that it would end up making sense and being a meaningful start to my journey. I cruised into Phoenix, nabbed my favorite parking spot early, and got myself a steak salad before heading to the ballpark.

Walking up to Chase Field, I realized that one group was lining up VERY early. I noticed a sign about being an “Advantage Member” and I asked an attendant how you know if you are one. This is the kind of thing my dad taught me to do, just ask. She had me pull up my ticket on my phone and took a look. “You are one!” she chirped. It turns out that buying that mediocre ticket on the secondary market had worked in my favor. I bought an Advantage Member’s mediocre ticket. I would get to head in with the small early crowd! Not only would I have a shot at an autograph or two, but I’d get to watch batting practice in the air conditioning before they opened the roof. I hopped in line and jumped into some conversation with the people in front of me. I felt like I was getting the opportunity to connect that I had hoped for. The gates opened, we filed into the ballpark, picked up our complementary “rally towels,” and those folks strolled off to the Diamondbacks side while I went toward my Cubbies all alone.

As I descended the steps toward the field, I glanced to my left and there was Mason! He jumped right in, “You get any autographs yet?!” I explained that I had JUST walked in as we set up shop next to the field netting. Soon his dad walked up, and Mason introduced us. His dad, Brandon, and I started talking about kids and autographs and sports in general. We compared notes on growing up around Spring Training, and going to games at Wrigley Field. We talked about how learning to engage with professional athletes can build confidence and social skills for kids. I told him about the players Jimmy and I would chase down in the parking lots of Tucson, like Alex Rodriguez, and what we learned from doing that. I told him about how Steve and I learned that you could get into a lot of places by simply acting like you know what you’re doing, like the time we got to the tunnel at a basketball game and patted Shaq on the shoulder. Brandon prompted me; “Hey, you need those guys autographs?, Looks like they’re coming over.” It was Nate Pearson! He signed my no-hitter card and, right after him, Porter Hodge came over too. I walked back over to Mason and his dad with my favorite card of the spring, singed by all the guys, and it was effortless!

Mason was dead-set on getting Tucker to sign his jersey. He saw a section of premium seats near the players entrance that weren’t occupied yet. Mason kept looking there, assessing if he could slide into them at the very moment when Kyle Tucker decided to walk back toward the clubhouse from warm-ups. The occupants of the seats arrived and filed in. A few seats weren’t yet taken. It looked like a company gathering of some kind, and Mason got a gleam in his eye. “Should I ask them if they’ll let me sit with them?” he ventured. His dad wasn’t so sure, but I threw out, “What’s the worst that could happen?” Mason knew the answer. “They’ll just tell me no!” He grabbed his stuff and resolutely walked their way, said hello to the nearby security guard, and approached a big dude in a hat. In ten seconds he was sitting with them and wearing a brand new Cubs hat that one of the guys had given him. He shot his dad and I a smile and a thumbs up. He was in! Brandon laughed and said, “Where are you sitting? If you you want, you can come sit with me.” Amazing things can begin with a chance meeting and a simple invitation.

That’s how I ended up sitting in amazing seats and having a great time a few rows behind home plate for my first Opening Day experience. Oh yeah, Ian Happ had a great game wearing the same style powder blue gloves he gave us, and the Cubbies beat the D-Backs 10–6.

Photo @darealcubszoneWhy I’m Driving 2,000 Miles to WrigleyThe Little Man: A Father's Legacy Of SmallnessGet more from Andy Littleton on Patreon[image error]