A pilgrimage to Wrigley Field is almost a requirement for many folks visiting Chicago, even if their interest in baseball is marginal at best. I made my first trip to the Friendly Confines in 1991 as a teenager visiting Chicago on a solo train trip around the country. Jumping off the Red Line at Addison, I made my way to the ticket booth and picked up a standing-room only ticket for a few bucks.
What do I remember from that first trip? Andre Dawson struck out, Ryne Sandberg hit a