"Yes, I'll hold." Grissom took a bite of pancake, then smiled as Sara reached over and dabbed his chin.
"Messy."
"Hmm, then why don't I share…." He teased, then took her lips in his, tasting butter and coffee. Just then the other party came back on the line.
"Your reservations are confirmed, Mr. Grissom. 2 round trip airfares to O'Hare, three nights at the Field Inn, with the Wrigley tour and tickets for two games. Will you be needing a rental?"
Bemused, Grissom shook his head. "No, just the airport shuttle round trip..and the L tickets …"
As he finished his phone call, Sara handed him a slightly sticky file. "That's a good plan, Gris…somebody needs to wake up that bunch of …"
"SOB's…? Well, that's what they call themselves…ever since the Commissioner's office delegated veterans to be voted on by the Senior Old-timers Bureau, they've fouled up the selections every time." Grissom replied, frustrated.
"Well, with ESPN and the Commissioner in town, maybe they'll get the idea." Sara spoke soothingly, and was rewarded with another bite of pancake.
"If not, we still have four days in Chicago…." Grissom replied, following up with a kiss.
"Hmmm, and two weeks with no Ecklie." She added dreamily.
Twenty-four hours later, Sara flopped happily into a patio chair on the hotel balcony, while a smiling Grissom tipped the bellman and shut the door.
"Come out here, Gris…just feel this cool air…" she beckoned, then squealed with surprise as he scooped her up from the chair, then took her seat and placed her on his lap.
"Now…isn't that better?" he smirked, then indulged in a long kiss.
"Mmmmm, I could get used to taking vacations if they're like..mmmm, this." Sara replied. Grissom stroked her face with his hand.
"Then this is what we're going to do from now on, honey. I never want to see you sad, or tired or lonely again. I'm just sorry I took so long…" Sara stopped him by putting her fingers to his lips.
"You were worth waiting for, Gris….and so was this.." she kissed him back. "No more regrets…"
"Yes, dear." He answered, then took a deep breath. Already he felt better, and more at ease. Now it was time to do the right thing for the one who had helped inspire him.
As if reading his mind, Sara put her head against his chest. "When was the first time you saw him play?"
"1969, I think…Leo the Lip was the manager… When all my friends were rooting for the Dodgers, I was wearing my Cubs cap… That was also the first year I had the guts to go out for a team. I was scrawny and always afraid my glasses would get broken, but when I stepped on to that field…I was a player. I always figured with the fight Coach put up, if he could do it, I could do it."
"Then we will. At least we would have tried." Sara met his gaze, then smiled as he stood up with her in his arms. "What are you doing?"
"Well, the game isn't until tomorrow…so before dinner I thought we could try something else." Grissom chuckled as she put her arms around his neck.
"I'm game."
The next day Grissom felt he was in heaven. Awakening with Sara in his arms, the cool spring morning allowing them to wear their Cubs jackets out to breakfast, then the VIP tour of Wrigley itself…no vacation had ever made him feel this good.
As they took turns peering out from the vintage scoreboard out to the perfectly green outfield grass, he mentally ticked off the arrangements he and Sara had made for the game that afternoon. A group of his friends had gotten tickets in the same area behind the Cubs dugout where he and Sara were. Already bearing in hand a part of Grissom's plan, two of his college buddies had passed a note to the television booth so the announcers would be aware of the special "presentation" planned for after the seventh inning stretch.
"Hey, Gris…time to move along." Sara nudged him, then took his arm as the group went down the narrow corridor. At the end of the tour, Grissom waited until Sara was busy reading the plaques along the gift shop wall, then he snuck over to the jewelry counter and bought her a little silver and blue "Cubs" pendant. Hiding the gift bag in his jacket pocket, he caught up with her as she shifted her tired feet.
"Ready for lunch? We have plenty of time before we have to get to our seats."
"Yes, thank you, Gris…" she beamed at him, then blushed as he kissed her.
"Careful, or else I'll think you were hungry for something else." Sara teased.
"Try me tonight…." He grinned.
All through lunch, Grissom kept looking at his watch, hoping his friends would show up. Scarcely had he and Sara finished and headed toward the field boxes, when several voices hollered "Gil! Hey, Gris!"
Sara turned around to see fifteen or sixteen men, most of them middle-aged, converging on the two of them.
"Hey, Connor….Mugs…look at you, Paul!" Grissom shook hands and hugged then pulled forward a suddenly shy Sara and introduced her.
"Guys, this is Sara, my girlfriend…Sara, these are…" he began, the n the tallest man, named Paul, interrupted him.
"The lucky men who finally get to meet Gil's Sara. My dear, we have heard so much about you…."
Tears had to be blinked away quickly as Sara realized the depth of friendship Gris had with these men. "Close enough to know what he felt…no wonder I love him."
"And that goes for me too, Gris has talked so much about his friends…" she exclaimed, exchanging hugs then settling down in Grissom's embrace as the group finally wound down enough to take their seats.
Once settled, Sara shucked her jacket as Grissom passed out his "presentation", then sat back with scorecard and pen in hand as word was relayed around the section, then the stadium of a special "surprise".
"I hope he likes it.." Grissom said as the game started, and Sara knew whom he was speaking about. "I think he'll be happy that so many people want to say thank you."
She replied, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it.
"Well, I want to say thank you to you for helping, properly." He smiled nervously, then pulled out the little Cubs gift bag. "I, uh, hope you like it."
"Oh, Gris…you didn't have to…" Sara opened the package, then beamed at the little silver "Cubs" cap with the "C" set in blue stones." "Thank you, thank you so much!"
"You're welcome…yes!" Grissom jumped to his feet as the popular first basemen doubled down the line. Sara let out a whistle, and Grissom's friends laughed at her enthusiasm.
As the game progressed, he grew nervous, particularly as the side screens showed the Commissioner chatting with the ESPN announcer between innings. "I hope he gets the message" Sara said as the sixth inning ended. Grissom's friend Paul leaned across her.
"I hope the head frog gets it too…what a wuss." At that Grissom snorted.
"Too bad the Olympic guy doesn't run for Commissioner again." The short guy called Connor remarked, then snickered as Paul shot back, "You don't run for Commissioner, they have to retire or get fired …then the owners select you."
"No wonder Coach wasn't voted in….eight.."
"I know, I know..eight votes!" Paul repeated. Just then Grissom announced, "Okay, one more out…ready?"
"Mugs" laughed. "I was born ready, Gris…" As the Cards recorded the last out, one of the radio announcers spoke through the Public Address system.
"Folks, we have a very special salute to one of our own that will take place after we sing, "Take Me Out To The Ball Game"…a one, a two, a three…"
As everyone began to sing, Grissom pulled a 8 by 11 card out of his file folder, then sang along with everyone until "For it's one, two, three strikes…"
"Now!" he yelled, and as the last notes of the song ended….flipped the card over and held it up in unison with his friends. Sara giggled as she too held up her card.
All around the stadium, fans craned their necks as the makeshift card section spelled out
"COACH BELONGS IN HALL". At once the chant began.
"Coach belongs in the hall, Coach belongs in the hall…"
Sara started to laugh, as Grissom chuckled. "This crowd is smart, they filled in the "The"!"
"Coach belongs in the Hall!" the crowd got louder and louder, then finally a hand waving a cap emerged from the radio booth, and the players and crowd cheered.
"We did it, Gris!" Sara yelled excitedly, hugging him. At once Grissom felt the last of his anger at the SOB vote melt…what his inspiration had given him was so much more, and so was the presence of his Sara. "We did it, indeed." He replied, then kissed her.
In the afterglow of the moment, the Cubs rallied and scored the go-ahead run, then the inning ended. Suddenly bedlam ensued as an usher came down the aisle, questioning each ticket holder in the rows above them. All around Grissom, his friends looked nervously at him, until Paul voiced what they were thinking.
"Did we violate some rule or something?" At that Gris shook his head. "There's nothing about rooting for a Cub with a sign being wrong."
"Excuse me, sir? Are you the gentleman who staged the "Coach" salute?" A smiling college-age usher peered over Paul and looked at Grissom.
"Yes, I am." He replied, meeting his gaze calmly.
"Here, this is for you." The usher handed him a note, then quickly said, "Thank you, that was great!"
"You're welcome." Grissom nodded at him, then stared at the folded piece of paper in his hand.
"Open it, Gris…what does it say?" Sara finally asked. Without hesitation, he opened the paper, then let out a deep breath.
"This makes it all worth it." He murmured, then burst out with a wide grin as he showed the note to her.
"Thank you…that meant a lot. You Cub fans are the best."
"He didn't sign it." Connor rumbled from his side.
Grissom looked up at him, his eyes twinkling.
"He didn't have to."
Fin