If I had to guess, I would say he had once been a hippy, but those days were past him now.  Now he found whatever was to be found in the working of a 9 to 5.  He had just a few more years to go.

“Man, did you really see the World Series?” he asked, looking at my jacket.

“Yeah.”

“Well you should be happy.  Your team won the whole damn thing,” he smiled.

I laughed.  “Actually, my team is kind of the Cardinals, and I went in 2014.  The Royals won Game 6 that year, but they didn’t win 7.”

“Well this year they didn’t need 7.  Did you see any Cardinal postseason games, then?”

“Last fall I saw Game 3 of the Division Series.  First time I was ever at Wrigley.”

“That was your first time at Wrigley?  Man, I would have love to have seen that.  I’m a life long Cubs fan.  What did you think of The Friendly Confines?”

“I had a pole that blocked my view of home.  The upper deck was right above us.  That was the game they set the record for homeruns.  I’d hear the crack of the bat, a ball would could barreling out from behind the pole, shoot up out of sight above the deck, and I would watch the outfielders to see if it was going to stay in or not.  Best seat I’ve ever had.”

“I took my boy to Wrigley.  We just got it in our heads we were going to drive out there, so we did.  I pulled up at 10:30 in the morning, went up to the ticket window, and told the guy I needed two.

He said, ‘I’m sorry man, but we’re all sold out.’  I was heartbroken.  Walking back to break the news to my son, he called out to me.  He said, ‘I can get you two tickets, but they aren’t going to be next to each other.  There will be 6 or 7 rows between you.’  I told him that would work.

Turned out it rained just ahead of game time.  It was a short delay, but hardly anybody showed.  We got to sit wherever we wanted, like we had the whole place to ourselves.

The Cubs were down 6 going into the ninth.  It was getting late.  I told him we ought to head for the car, but you know how boys are.  He was convinced they were going to pull it out, and he begged me to stay.  So we did.

Would you believe they won that damn game?  I still can’t believe it.  Best day of my life.”

And there he was, just in front of me, and back at that day at Wrigley, like he’d been a thousand times.

On his hand he wore no ring.  I went on to ask him about his son, and the conversation always remained in the past tense.  This man thanked God for his work.  He also thanked Him for baseball.  I thanked Him for a jacket.

Something More Than Free