Wanna Hear The Coolest Thing Ever? I Made A Gary Smith Story
So, Gary Smith. Probably like the best sportswriter ever. That’s not an exaggeration, either. Most agree, at this point, that Gary Smith is the best sportswriter still working today.
For a while now, Smith has been working on a story about the Chicago Cubs and its fans, and the way the postseason is going to be this insane storm of beer and nerves and fun, and the way we fans romanticize Wrigley and the World Series and so on and so forth. How do I know this? I was in the bleachers when Gary Smith visited Wrigley Field.
On August 30, three close friends and I were sitting in our customary center field bleacher seats. After borrowing some sunscreen from this really cute blond girl from Philly, we looked behind us before the game to find a skinny, endearing guy with a mustache and a yellow notepad in his lap. He was cradling a beer between his legs and frantically transcribing the eager ramblings of a dude in a Hawaiian shirt. I figured he was a writer, but not yet knowing what the elusive Gary Smith looked like, and being slightly more interested in the Philly girl, I didn’t try to start a conversation.
Anyway, after jumping into our cup game, Smith introduced himself as a writer for Sports Illustrated named Gary Smith. As my friends would attest, I geeked. I tried to whisper that Gary Smith was TEH BESTSPORTSWRITER EVAR!!! I’m sure he heard me. Then I told him that I loved his work; I sounded like a cross between a Jonas Brothers fan and a literary snob. Fanboy to the max.
Eventually, my friend Paul leaned over and told Smith I was a writer, which is barely true. Smith asked what I did, we chatted for a minute about blogging and the web, and then that was that. Before I left we said goodbye and good luck, and I was pretty sure I wanted to have Gary Smith’s children. Nicest dude ever.
Throughout the game, Smith jumped right in to our little ritual, the cup game. Today I found out that cup game — and my name — made Smith’s cover story, on newsstands this week. I’ll allow him to describe it:
Instead I bought us each a beer, made Fred’s acquaintance and jumped into the Batter Game, a gambling contest that a young blogger named Eammon Brennan and six other fans in front of me, including two young women, were initiating: buck an at bat to play, pass the cupful of bills to the next player for each successive batter, win a buck if your hitter singles, two if he doubles, three if he triples, four if he homers, and if you’re lucky, like we were, one of the contestants will keep her stash in her bra. Here was a vestige of Cubs bleacher life from its grimmest days, when the regulars diminished the horror by betting on every pitch—ball, strike, hit, foul—and even on whether the ball, rolled toward the mound after the last putout each inning, would reach dirt or fall short and end up on the grass.
So yeah: I — through nothing more than luck, sunshine, and the universality of beer — snuck my way into a Gary Smith cover story. My name is mispelled. The Philly girl never materialized. But it’s still the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me.
Subscribe to our RSS feed.
Follow us on Twitter.
Add New Comment
Viewing 7 Comments
Thanks. Your comment is awaiting approval by a moderator.
Do you already have an account? Log in and claim this comment.
Do you already have an account? Log in and claim this comment.
Smith is amazing...but should've gotten your name right, dammit!
well done E!
Do you already have an account? Log in and claim this comment.
Do you already have an account? Log in and claim this comment.
Do you already have an account? Log in and claim this comment.
Do you already have an account? Log in and claim this comment.
Do you already have an account? Log in and claim this comment.
Seriously though - pretty sweet. We rule.
Do you already have an account? Log in and claim this comment.
Add New Comment