By Josh Noel
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
It’s the top of the sixth inning when the girl, who’s maybe ten, approaches the man behind me. “Excuse me,” she says in her little voice. “Excuse me. Excuse me.” Now he is looking. “Would you consider selling your Beanie Baby?” The Cubs are playing their final home game of the season, and to mark the occasion each of the devoted has received a purple bear Beanie Baby at the gate. The man seems surprised at the small, bespectacled girl who values the doll enough to overcome the nerves that have led her to jam her hand in her mouth while she speaks. He says he needs to think. First he considers aloud whether to just give her the Beanie Baby. But his people–his wife on one side and a friend on the other–are predicting a return as high as $15. The girl already has one Beanie Baby, and her mother across the aisle with two other children clearly is prepared to finance the transaction.
Ernie Banks is leaning out of the WGN booth, belting “Take Me Out to the Ball Game,” and not very well, but there’s a lot of love there. Capitalism rests for a moment. And for another full inning. The guy next to me mentions that he saw people get their Beanie Babies at the gate then leave. They bought tickets just for the beanbags. During the stalemate, I ask the guy behind me why he’d sell for $18 but not $15. “It’s the principle,” he says. “We made counteroffers–they came back with nothing. I want to see some progress, some movement.” I cross the aisle to ask the mom the same question. “It’s the principle,” she says. “We’d made a deal for 15.”
