A vine time at Wrigley Field

By Ron Kantowski

Monday, Aug. 10, 2009 | 7:59 a.m.

NOW

Until yesterday, the only time a member of my family had set foot on a major league field in Chicago was when my brother ran onto the one at old Comiskey Park after a White Sox game and promptly got arrested by Chicago's Finest. He loves telling that story now but at the time, he said the ride in the paddy wagon was kind of scary.

On Sunday, my media pass to the Road to Wrigley game featuring the Iowa Cubs and 51s allowed me to walk on the playing surface at Wrigley Field, which to a Cubs fan, is better than Nirvana -- the physical concept or the band.

Being a veteran sports writer and all, I tried to act cool. I don't think it worked. I sort of walked on my tip-toes out to center field. From the press box, it must have looked like somebody trying to step over broken glass on the kitchen floor.

When I noticed some of the 51s pitchers plucking leaves of ivy off the vines for souvenirs, I had to have one, too. I gingerly made my way across the warning track made of fine gravel, just like Alfonso Soriano tracking a long fly ball, and then reached out to grand a handful of ivy, examining it for texture and thickness. I reached all the way down to the bricks.

I turned around to make sure nobody was paying attention to the one guy roaming the outfield in street clothes. Then I did it. Feeling somewhat shielded by the home run "basket" overhang, I pulled a leaf off the vine and put it into my own pants pocket.

I kept waiting to hear sirens or for Lou Piniella to grab me by the ear and say "Young man, come with me."

But it never happened.

THEN

The only time my mom would write me a note for ditching school was on opening day at Wrigley Field.

One time, after a couple of friends and I skipped sixth-period American History class to watch Nolan Ryan pitch against the White Sox on a Thursday afternoon at old Comiskey Park, I tried to forge my mom's signature on a similar note to my home room teacher the next day.

Detention wasn't all that bad.