The air is seemingly solid, it is so thick. While the slowly setting sun casts a rosy-golden hue on the summer haze, red and blue foam fingers, baseball caps and shirts become an ocean of people that is neither refreshing nor cool. It is Game Day in Wrigleyville, Chicago, and the Cubs and Phillies are about to go head to head. It is hot, and I am bothered. “What am I doing in Wrigleyville?” I thought to myself.

Easy enough answer: I’m going to my first Cubs game.

I don’t “do” sports. I’m kind of plushy and lazy, and the thought of watching athletes compete makes me short of breath, not to mention feel a little guilty. “I should probably go do something, huh?” So it came as a surprise when I got invited to