By Will Lingo
(contributing: J.J. Cooper, Matthew Eddy, Will Kimmey, Chris Kline, John Manuel and Alan Matthews)
May 17, 2004

FOURTH INNING

Birling has finally made his way into his office after walking around the ballpark several times to make sure everything is going well. The Bulls front office is under the concourse and looks like the average American office, except for all the baseball memorabilia scattered around. Birling's office is spartan, with all kinds of baseball trinkets that he clearly hasn't had time to put on his wall or arrange on a shelf.

Radio traffic has slowed down--"You might not like quiet stuff, but I like quiet stuff."--so Birling has a minute to check his e-mail, and more importantly check the weather. The Bulls are owned by Capitol Broadcasting Co., which also owns a local television station, so Birling has a live feed to the station's weather forecasts and radar. Tonight is beautiful, but the rest of the weekend doesn't look good (and in fact, the games on Saturday and Sunday will be rained out).

Birling sighs. The Bulls had at least some rain on 52 of their 72 home dates last year, resulting in a staggering 130 tarp pulls, so he's hoping this year will be better. April, at least, has been a major improvement. "Last year was hard," he says. "With that much rain, it's really hard to keep the motivation there. It's tough to keep everybody loving baseball and loving their job."

On the field, the Bulls are putting together another big rally that will plate three runs and put them up 5-0, but down here you'd have no idea. When asked what inning the game might be in, Birling says, "Well, they said 'Go with the t-shirts' on the radio, so that means mid-fourth."

One of the people throwing the t-shirts into the stands is Christy Holleman, an assistant for community relations and promotions. Two members of the grounds crew compliment her arm as she chucks shirts deep into the bleachers in right field. Several of the crew members have moved under the grandstand to the shop, where mowers, rakes and stacks of Diamond Dry are scattered across the concrete floor.

It's 8 p.m. now, and the electronic organ's batteries are nearly dead. It's two hours after Bruce Michaels began playing his 14-song, 40-minute set that welcomes fans into the park. He's not worried about the batteries; he has a backup set. He normally turns the organ off when he's not playing, but he wanted to test their longevity--just for kicks.

Aside from welcoming fans to the park with a mixture of familiar, upbeat tunes such as "Centerfield," "Willie, Mickey and the Duke," "Mr. Sandman" and "YMCA," Michaels also plays cheers during the game. He's been playing on the concourse for four seasons now, after Bulls president Jim Goodmon decided he wanted live music on Fridays and Saturdays rather than just the stadium sound system. It took Michaels a half-season to get used to the pace of things, to know what events gave him enough time to play longer or shorter cheers, such as "If You're Happy And You Know It" or "Charge."

When Sandberg steps to the plate with a runner on third in the bottom of the fourth, Michaels is already planning. "If he gives me a foul ball, it will take enough time for the umpire to throw a new one out that I can play a long cheer," Michaels says as Sandberg delivers an RBI single up the middle. "That's OK, too."

Overall Michaels, a piano teacher by trade and a baseball fan by birth, really enjoys his weekend employment. His organ sits just behind the box seats on the lower concourse. He's farther from the plate than the pitcher's mound, but closer than first or third base. "I've got a good gig," he says, "and a great seat."