8/8/88 memories: 40,000 flashbulbs, Geraldo and us

How, I wondered, am I going to convince the boss my reflections on the 20th anniversary of the first Cubs night game would be relevant column fodder from the DuPage editor?

I was there, you know, and I think the world awaits my recounting of details you can't get from anyone but my buddy Joel and me.

Die-hard Cub fan/columnist Burt Constable provided me with the necessary ammo to plunge ahead. He reminded me (honestly) that I was the city editor for this newspaper 20 years ago and the first night game at Wrigley Field was a big deal. I had to assign reporters to help cover what turned out to be perhaps the most celebrated rainout in the history of sports.

"Jim Bozikis says hi," Burt wrote me when I was asking him what angle he was pursuing for his 20th anniversary story, which appeared as our Page 1 "centerpiece" in Thursday's paper.

Bozikis was an eager young reporter when I put out the word that we needed volunteers to cover the game of 8/8/88. Jim jumped at the opportunity and was "really, really pumped" until a more senior reporter informed him that he was her "outside" guy at Wrigley Field. That took the wind out of his sails a bit.

There were probably myriad other details on us covering that first night game, but, amazing thing, it's the personal recollections of experiencing something like that that stay with you.

We had much-coveted tickets to that game because Joel had been a season-ticket holder since 1985. Still is, in fact. And he's the first person who comes to my mind when you mention such phrases as die-hard, true-blue Cubs fan. He grew up on the North side, probably attended 40, 50 games a year when the Cubs were just awful, but it cost just $1 to get into the bleachers in those days. Seats were plentiful, too.

Joel was plenty excited about the first night game, even had special T-shirts printed to commemorate the historic evening.

But as we scoured and scoured the landscape for a parking spot, Joel's mood soured as he witnessed all the suits and evening gowns. "Who are these people?" he said. "They're not Cubs fans."

After finding nothing on the street we pulled into a parking lot. The price was about $40, double the amount normally charged. Now Joel was seething. "You people are going to burn in hell," he told the attendant, who took word of her fate with a shrug.

The game itself was almost anticlimactic. Until I read Burt's story I had forgotten Sandburg's home run and that the Cubs were ahead 3-1 before the rain came. My most vivid memory was the impression that 40,000 flash bulbs had gone off simultaneously as Rick Sutcliffe threw the first pitch. That and watching a shirtless Geraldo Rivera standing on the steps of a concourse during the rain delay.

Joel's outburst over the parking rates notwithstanding, his most vivid memory of that evening 20 years ago today was "the buzz," the playoff-type excitement.

"There was electricity in the air," he says, "And it wasn't just the lights."