A Day at Wrigley Field with Moe Mullins and the Ballhawks

On a windy June day, flags danced above Wrigley Field as Moe Mullins arrived over three hours before the first pitch, a ritual he followed regularly. With his camping chair set up at the corner of Waveland and Kenmore, Mullins watched the neighborhood slowly awaken. Street vendors opened their stalls, and Murphy’s patio began to fill with patrons. Fans gathered at the brick wall near the bleacher gates, waiting for them to open. During this quiet time, Mullins held his spot at the corner, known as the unofficial mayor of Waveland and Kenmore avenues, revered among fans and passersby.

This weekend, the Chicago Cubs celebrate their 150th anniversary with the National League. This team has spent 110 years at Wrigley Field. Despite numerous changes, the corner beyond left field remains a small nod to a simpler time. The Cubs have acquired many nearby buildings, and rooftops have become more commercialized. Trendy bars and restaurants dot the area, and even Wrigley’s well-known marquee now has a corporate sponsor.

Mullins shares the corner with other personalities, including Dave Davison, who sells Gatorade from a cooler with amusingly tiered pricing based on fan loyalty. Familiar faces frequent the corner, from locals to curious tourists, intrigued by the vibrant atmosphere. Among them are Ken Keefer, Bob Krause, and Mary Ellen Gourley, who continue to be regular presences at the games.

Though the corner stands against change, its community of ballhawks has dwindled over time. Mullins is 75, and Davison is in his 50s. They represent the last of the seasoned veterans, with few young enthusiasts stepping in to take their place.

Mullins came to know this corner in 1958 as a child. That day, 8-year-old Mullins learned he could turn his collection of baseballs into hamburgers at O’Henry’s. Years later, he has gathered over 6,400 baseballs, a practice interrupted only by his Vietnam service year.

Stories from Mullins’ past tell of baseballs lost and won, such as nearly catching Ernie Banks’ 400th home run or losing a Sammy Sosa homer in a crowd frenzy. Today, his Mizuno glove, often resting on his chair, symbolizes decades of ballhawking. Less frequently needed now under the watchful eyes of veteran fans, the game remains ever-present.

With changes to Wrigley Field, some traditions have faded. Bleachers have expanded, a giant video board reigns, and chain-link fences drift into memory. Even routine batting practices can pass without a single ball meeting Waveland’s street.

Despite changes, Mullins and Davison anchor their spot, a testament to shared enthusiasm. On considerable nights like June 30, Davison set up his cart hours before the game against the Padres, knowing rare conditions made for ideal game play. As fans gathered, the possibility of home runs lingered.

Early in the match, Padres’ Fernando Tatis Jr. sent a memorable shot toward Kenmore, caught at 32 by Trent Weyermuller, a younger regular still captivated by the ballhawk draw.

Within the bleachers, longtime fans like Keefer, Gourley, and Krause watch familiar rituals endure. Though expansion alters experiences, historic sentiments bind them deeply to the park.

Amid transformations, old habits endure. Keefer remembers catching balls in his beer, and Gourley holds onto old photos capturing another era, yet both find joy in today’s Wrigley Field.

Outside, Mullins muses about his baseball collection. He dreams of an event where he lines Waveland with children, allowing them their own chance to take home a baseball.

Mullins, like Davison, is committed to this corner. As long as they can stand at Wrigley Field, they will keep chasing baseballs, enjoying the company and camaraderie they’ve known for decades. In every laugh and story shared, their devotion shines bright.