Let's talk briefly about the saga of a quartet of Cubs tickets. The game was this past Saturday, a wonderfully-pitched Ted Lilly victory. Aramis had a key double, Soriano ended the home run drought, and the Cubs won, at the time, for the 14th time in their last 18 games. It was pretty awesome.

The game date was Saturday, July 14.

I confirmed ownership of the tickets, oh, say, Wednesday, July 4. Shortly thereafter, I confirmed that The Boy was otherwise occupied and, therefore, I had three additional tickets to use.

So...
Wednesday, July 4
Tickets owned: 4
Tickets spoken for: 1, mine

Actions: A call to Wej, offering number 2

Thursday, July 5
No activity

Friday, July 6
No activity

Saturday, July 7
Wej calls, and accepts the offered ticket. He also talks about selling beer at The Police concerts at Wrigley Field. Budweiser sales surged.

So...
Tickets owned: 4
Tickets spoken for: 2, mine, and Wej's

Sunday, July 8
No activity

Monday, July 9
Activity: A call to Hotpocket. An acceptance of the offered ticket, contingent on his ability to weasel out of a scheduled work-related barbecue.

So...
Tickets owned: 4
Tickets spoken for: 3, mine, Wej's, Hotpocket's

Tuesday, July 10
Activity: A call to the only Beaumont native I know, offering a ticket to see his nearly-hometown boys. A message left.

Wednesday, July 11
No activity.

Thursday, July 12
A flurry of activity
6:00: A missed call from Hotpocket. The message: "What time is the game? My barbecue is at 4. I might not be able to get out of this."
7:00: I call back, requesting a callback tonight.

Conclusion: Two tickets available.

9:00: A conversation with The Boy. "So, we [he and his lady] think we probably won't do that well at this tournament, and it starts at nine, so I think we can probably go to the game." Me: "Sweet!"

Tickets owned: 4
Tickets spoken for: 4, mine, Wej's, The Boy's, Person for whom I don't have a suitable nickname's

Saga over.

Or is it...

Friday, July 13
More activity, obviously
12:30: A call from Hotpocket. "What time's the game, again?" "3. When's your thing?" "4. But I don't think I'll go." "Sweet. I'll call you tomorrow, and we'll figure out times."

So...
Tickets owned: 4
Tickets spoken for: 5, kind of. Mine, Wej's, Hotpocket's, The Boy's, Nicknameless wonder's

Conclusion: Well, shit. If I've got just one left, there's no way The Boy will want his.

12:35: A call to Bullshot. An invitation. "Hey, I'm not sure if I can get out of something. Can I call you in an hour or two?" "Sure," I say.

So...
Tickets owned: 4
Tickets spoken for: 6, kind of.

1:15: Arrival at The Boy's. I deliver the surprising news about Hotpocket's ticket acceptance. "Oh, great! Because she said she wasn't really interested, so I'll just use the ticket." Me: "Oh, shit. Well, I figured you wouldn't want it if there was only one. I've got a call to Bullshot." He, dejectedly: "Oh well." (Under his breath: "Fuck you.")

So...
Tickets owned: 4
Tickets spoken for: 5

3:00, while sitting at Murphy's Bleachers (where they charge you $4.50 for a can of Old Style, with a straight face): A call from Bullshot. "Actually, I can't go." Me: "That's great! (followed by explanation of the saga of the ticket.)" (Lesson here: Clearly, people debate...Cubs ticket? but time with Rd? Cubs ticket? but time with Rd?, and determine that the downside to the latter clearly outweights the upside of the former...sigh.)

So...
Tickets owned: 4
Tickets spoken for: 4, mine, Wej's, Hotpocket's, The Boy's

7:00, Tangentially: A text message from the only Beaumontian I know. "I'm in the 500's. Come see me at the game!" No worries of a late-coming offer acceptance, thankfully.

Upshot: The Boy kicked ass at volleyball, and never did make it to the game. The final ticket remained in his pocket, as he and the lady advanced despite losing a tiebreaker because their opponents were headed to Wrigley.

The pregame beer was good, the game was great fun, and I'd say it worked out pretty well.

Sadly, the fourth ticket went to waste, though. Probably could've gotten 20 bucks off of a broker for it.

- - - - - - - - - -

Let's talk other highlights of the trip, which was notable and awesome.

I got to see my sister for the first time since my momentous visit to New York in February, so that was fantastic.

She and The Boy and I got to play in Millennium Park. I had never been there. The gigantic jelly bean is just a gigantic jelly bean, but it's so, so, so cool. I think I found six reflections of myself, and this was in a pretty poorly-reflecting corner.

The fountain is 50 feet tall and has people spitting water at you, so it's definitely not "just" anything, and it's also so, so, so cool. Probably the coolest part was splashing each other, as you'd expect.

I'd highly recommend Millennium Park.

We followed by eating Czech food. I usually (like, 98 percent of the time) finish everything on my plate, at just about every restaurant. This, however, was too salty for me. And they never brought water, except of the sparkling variety. I don't think I'll eat Czech food again, and I can't fathom how my sister can do it. But she can, which is worth quite a bit.

Probably my favorite part of the weekend was lunch with my sister on Saturday. She's pretty bright, and she's entering a pretty exciting and scary and outstanding phase of her life...leaving, just to leave, as it were, and speaking a foreign language and working with some ex-pats and, really, who knows what. As I said to her, it's really pretty amazing, and pretty respectable, and I, personally, would never have the guts to do it. But she, my friends, will do it, and do it well.

Probably my least favorite part of the weekend was her roommate's cat, who tormented me. Quite a bit. I won't elaborate, but I've never been so scared of a 12-inch tall, 10-pound creature. But this thing was terrifying. I can't elaborate. I was quite scared, and now I'm kind of scarred.

- - - - - - -

I should mention that I managed to see a few more high school friends as well. A Friday morning breakfast, a Saturday evening nothing-much-really, including a visit to Coach's "new" (a year now) home. So that was pretty cool.

- - - - - - -

I also got a set of golf clubs out of the trip. Let's just say that yellow clubs, in a yellow bag, coming out of a yellow car, looks kind of ridiculous. More ridiculous is that, three hours ago, when I got to the driving range, they were already closed. Closed. Curses. I'll have to get out Wednesday, I think.

Goal is to get a round in on Saturday or Sunday, perhaps a twilight round in next week, and be ready to go 18 with my newly-frequent dad the following weekend. It'll be awesome.

I can promise that I'll never write about my golf game here. But I write about fantasy football, and you don't care about that either. I've never written about a poker game, which you're certainly not interested in.

I'll mention, however, that some of my favorite ever blog-style writing, I seem to remember, was written in regards to someone else's golf game. That blog is, sadly, gone. (Impressively, it existed before the word "blog" existed, however.)

Let's be honest, here. Three-day weekends rule. I don't think I'll be traveling for another one, which is okay. (A quick check indicates my final three-day weekend - the last weekend in August - includes the freakin' Yankees at Comerica Park. A less-quick check indicates that there is not a single not-single ticket available for the entire series. Who's Your Tiger? All of them!)

- - - - - - - -

The Cubs acquired Jason Kendall. I'm not angry, but I'm not overjoyed. It's the last year of his contract, and the Oakland people rave about his defense. He obviously doesn't have much of a bat anymore. It's the last year of his contract, and he won't get another big one, and he's never won anything, so I think he'll be good in the clubhouse and good with Carlos and the staff and, certainly, no worse than Bowen. (Though there's a part of me who kind of likes Bowen. This, of course, is because he's a former Bandit and played there at the end of the 2002 season.)

I find it disconcerting, however, that Lou pinch hit for Kendall in the ninth tonight. Kendall is, ostensibly, here because of his bat. Hmm.

There's a part of me that kind of wishes that Pat Misch had gotten the win on Monday night. With two awful, out-of-the-strike-zone curveballs, and one low sinker for a sharply-hit inning-ending double play, he did the job.

I'm thinking he's probably Mitch Stewart's first former pupil to make the Big Leagues. Must've been all those double cheeseburgers from Ginny. (That was, what, six years ago? I'm awesome.)