October 1, 1990. Twelve things that happened the morning after the last game:

1. Eight video games were carried out of the concourse near third base and loaded onto a truck in the parking lot. “These were for the little kids,” said one of the movers from the video-game rental company. “For when they got tired and didn’t wanna watch the game.”

2. A wiring-company employee wearing a combat camouflage jacket pulled yards of black cables covered unevenly with layer upon layer of thick white paint off the outside west wall of the stadium. He put it in a steel garbage drum.

3. Wrens flew down Bill Veeck Drive and into Armour Square Park, past signs that said “Reserved for Channel 7, 5, 2,” etc and stenciled lettering that said “Gate II–Picnic Area Entrance.”

4. An electric sign, framed by a backdrop consisting of the IIT campus, the Robert Taylor Homes, and the Dan Ryan Expressway, still flashed, on and off, on and off, “Parking at 33rd and Michigan. Bus Service Available.”

5. A big, fat, decaying, bloated hot dog covered with dirt lay near a small pile of horse shit left over from the police mounted patrol on a patch of dead grass just beneath the left-field outside wall, where the white paint had practically all peeled off, revealing a dark rust color underneath.

6. A lone souvenir salesman, whose wares were all one-half off, sat under his awning on 35th Street near the main gate, with no customers. “I don’t know how long I’ll stay here,” he said. “Maybe through the rest of the year.”

7. Mr. and Mrs. Ray Brock from Appleton, Wisconsin, on their way home from Detroit via Midway Airport, rushed over in their car and changed the vendor’s luck by purchasing some last-minute mementos, including an insulated cup-holder sort of thing with the Sox logo. “Brings back a lot of memories,” said Mr. Brock, a stockbroker originally from Chicago. “I always tried to avoid sitting near the posts. I guess it’s good the new one won’t have any. When I used to see Luke Appling here, I thought it would last forever.”

8. Lonza Fruitree, a laborer from the Gust K. Newberg Construction Company, stood in a hole he was digging on 35th Street right in front of a shuttered ticket window. Fruitree said the hole, which was about four feet deep at the time, would eventually hold a 50-foot caisson that would be part of an overpass structure leading from a parking lot on the site of the old ballpark to the new stadium across the street. Cranes and other construction equipment were lined up across the street from where Fruitree, who looked like a grave digger, was working.

9. A clothes rack was wheeled out of a doorway near home plate and out into the mild air under an overcast sky. It was packed tight with Andy Frain jackets in every size.

10. The silence was intermittently broken by: motors, footsteps, pounding, screeching cart wheels, talking, shouting, cameras clicking.

11. A white-haired businessman drove around the block in a nice Pontiac and asked a passerby if the park would be coming down that day. “I want to get a brick,” he said.

12. A woman and her 4-year-old daughter with a camera, and a man and his 8-year-old son with a camcorder, and a 20-year-old with a motorcycle and a helmet, and some factory workers from nearby on break took pictures of the outside wall–of white peeling paint and spray-painted slogans such as “That’s All Folks.”