We spent the weekend in a place outside of the confines of time. If you can believe this: We were in League City, Texas, watching my son play at Wrigley Field. The new facility is called Big League Dreams. Completed last Summer, it reportedly cost $30 Million to build.
Every field is a replica of a professional park, either current or historical. As a matter of fact, my son's Texas Sundevils won two in a row on Sunday, February 12th, on the old Polo Grounds of New York.
The restaurant behind homeplate allows sports-dads to eat a great burger and drink a beer while watching their kids and ESPN simultaneously. It was everything I ever dreamed of in a ballpark. When I ventured into the eating establishment's welcoming confines (upon my arrival Saturday), I was so overcome that my arms went limp, my chin dropped to my chest and I spontaneously wept. The matronly beer lady brought me a frosty $4.00 Domestic Brand, and then held me until I could gather myself. She understood. I was not the first father who had lived to see his ideal of the perfect baseball tournament materialize at this, the Copa Cabana of youth baseball. As I sucked my thumb, she gently pulled my head to her comforting, copious bosom and hummed the melody to "Say Hey, Willie". Then, she released me to sit by all the other red-eyed, quivering First-Time-At-The-Big-League-Dreams dads.
My son and his team did their parts. By winning 4 out of 5 and coming away with a 1st Place Tourney Trophy, they did nothing to defile the synthetic turf upon which they played. Papa John delivered, getting 6 hits and 8 RBI's for the weekend. He pitched like a bulldog, sometimes having to scramble and battle for the bone that he would eventually take. In his seven innings against the eventual second place Houston Toros, he allowed four runs. The picture attached is another of our great pitchers, Ryan St. Clair. Behind him, one can see the sprigs of ivy that will cover Wrigley's walls in May.
At Big League Dreams, they thought of absolutely everything.
