Greetings from Chicago. Actually, greetings from Rosemont, or somewhere near there, where Chicago's O'Hare International is located. Maybe you are wondering why I'm writing from Chicago. Or, more likely, maybe you're wondering why I don't just get to the baseball stuff. Either way, hear me out: when you are travelling to Milwaukee, fly into Milwaukee. Some might say that flying into Chicago and driving the hour and 20 minutes north is easier. Well, it's not.
See, the word Milwaukee apparently is derived from an ancient Algonquin word that means "Land of Endless Construction." Seriously, if you are single and lonely and want to date an orange plastic barrell, Milwaukee is your town. So it took a little while to get out of Sausage Town yesterday, then it took a little longer to battle the rush hour traffic between Sausage Town and Chicago, then it took an hour - that's right hour - to get through the toll booth just outside of O'Hare.
So fellow beat writer Ryan Lawrence and I finally rolled into town about 8:30 p.m. We were hoping to catch overtime of the Flyers game. Except overtime of the Flyers game was exactly 48 seconds long. Besides, attempting to find a hockey broadcast on TV could be a professional sports league all by itself. I took a lot of ribbing from militant NHL fans when I cracked on the league in an article a few weeks ago. Truth is, I love playoff hockey. But call me when you can actually find all of your playoff telecasts on real television.
That said. . .