Bylines and bonding
Last Saturday, I shared a Wrigley Field press box experience with my daughter, Maggie Rose. The day underscored the passage of time and felt like a passing of the torch.
I don’t have a “bucket list,” those activities and achievements to check off before my days are numbered in this world.
However, I do have enough sense to recognize when rare, potentially once-in-a-lifetime opportunities come up. That’s how I came to be in the Wrigley Field press box last Saturday.
It had been 24 years since I was last in this historic Chicago sports shrine, on assignment for Sports Illustrated for Kids.1 But that’s only a tiny part of the story.
Thirty-seven autumns ago, as a college sophomore, was the last time I covered a football game—between the same two teams playing on this frigid day, Northwestern University and the University of Illinois.
That parallel was pretty cool, but again, the Wildcats and Fighting Illini play every season. Their rivalry alone wouldn’t have been enough to draw me here.
The real pull, the magnet that prompted me to pitch an editor, secure the assignment and carve out most of my Saturday was the person seated one row in front of me: a 21-year-old college sportswriter who happens to be my daughter, Maggie Rose Baron.
How many dads and daughters get to have an experience like this?
We drove in together, picked up our credentials and made our way up to the press box with over an hour to spare before the 11 a.m. kickoff.
As the game got underway, I set up my laptop, computer mouse and well-worn mousepad. The image on that mousepad made me chuckle—a photo of Maggie Rose and her twin brother, Zach, in the bathtub from their toddler stage.
How time flies.
That smiling bespectacled toddler on the left has grown up to be a pretty talented writer double-majoring in journalism and biology at my alma mater.
A few months ago, Maggie Rose mentioned that she planned to cover the game for the student publication where she serves as an assistant managing editor, North by Northwestern. She's reported on a variety of sports the past few years and recognized that between the historic venue and these two schools’ rivalry, this was one to cover.
It wasn't long before I pursued an assignment with the Daily Herald, a newspaper in the Chicago suburbs I’ve written for frequently over the years.2
To my delight, it all worked out as hoped.
Early in the second half, a seat opened up to my right and Maggie Rose came alongside me. Her row was markedly colder than mine, the price for being slightly closer to the not-perfectly-sealed windows, but I’d like to think she would have made the move even if my spot was just as chilly.
From then onward, we'd chat about the last play, speculate about the next one, all the while tapping out notes that might make the cut for our respective stories.
The only thing that would’ve made the experience better—and don’t worry, journalism pals, there was no cheering in the press box—was if NU had pulled out a come-from-behind win.
At game’s end, Maggie Rose went to Northwestern’s press conference and I joined a few dozen media members in the batting cage area for Illinois’ conference.
An hour later, back at our seats, she shared Northwestern coach and player quotes and began working on her story while I wrapped up mine.
I asked her to proofread my draft and she caught a few typos. When I made some last-minute refinements—tightening my lede and coming up with references to Red Grange and the venue being the “Frigid Confines”3—her thumbs-up gave me the confidence to hit “send” shortly before 5 p.m.
After finally exiting the park and walking through the dark Wrigleyville chill to our car, we began the nearly hourlong drive home. Only a few minutes later, Maggie Rose pulled up my story on her smartphone.
It was yet another reminder that 1987 is ancient history: no printing presses to set in motion, no delivery trucks to drop off the pile of papers on the street corner. Just a few taps and there it is.
The next day, before driving her back to campus, Maggie Rose finished her game account and sent it to fellow North by Northwestern editors for their review.
“Do you want any quotes from the Illinois side?” I asked. “You helped me with my story; I’d like to help you.”
“Nope.”
“Well,” I asked, “Can I at least read it before it’s posted on the NBN website? I could be another set of eyes.”
“No, thanks.”
I pushed some more. She stood her ground.
Two days later, I discovered her story4. She hadn’t sent me the link. Just as she wanted to craft her story entirely on her own, she obviously preferred that I find it on my own.
With graduation in six months, Maggie Rose’s career beckons. Will it be in journalism, either fully or in part? Unclear.
While the profession was never lucrative for me, I was able to make a living at it for about 20 years. These days, financial prospects for emerging journalists appear even more daunting.
So last weekend might have been Maggie Rose’s last time in a press box of that stature. Only time will tell.
One thing I do know: we'll always have that one marvelous time when we got to be side-by-side, immersed in our love for telling stories.
My assignment for SI for Kids: talk to players about the fastest guys in the game. My favorite memory was chatting for a few minutes with Hall of Fame pitcher Greg Maddux, then with the Atlanta Braves. He was as cordial and down-to-earth as I could have hoped.
I’ve freelanced often for the newspaper over the past quarter-century, most recently 10 months ago when Caitlin Clark-led Iowa women’s basketball team visited Northwestern. I wrote about that experience as well, “Covering Caitlin.”
Wrigley Field is known as “The Friendly Confines.”
Even better, I found it to be quite well done—the perfect punctuation on this entire bylines-and-bonding experience. In case you overlooked the link the first time, you can read it here.
Love this! A day neither of you will ever forget.
Very cool.