... Jose Abreu...
We circled the Gum Factory a time or two weighing whom to
approach to let us in. No money, we’d just ask – you would be surprised how
often that would work. Usually the guy you’d know that dated your cousin and
was Betsy Marie’s uncle best friends with your brother… but that was Comiskey.
We were shut out and had to buy a ticket. We tried the Bleacher window where
the cool kids, later the Lee Elia Fan Club, but shut down. Grandstand $3.50
USD. We didn’t have much more than that
to get home.
The ticket gave us a wide variety of seats. You could sit
anywhere except it was always higher and farther away from the shithouse.
Remember that commercial with Bob Uecker sitting in top row top seat? We
started down the first base line upper deck. We got itchy. Our goal was to
sneak into seats behind home plate or closer, so we went downstairs. We got a
batter or two before the seat holder and usher chased us away and we’d move
around the third base side. We weren’t getting any luck. Nobody was leaving their seats.
Part 6... soon
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