Singing "Take Me Out To The Ball Game" has been a seventh-inning staple at Wrigley Field since the late Harry Caray arrived on the scene in 1981. The legendary announcer began the tradition during his earlier stint with the White Sox.

The song was originally written in 1908 by a man named Jack Norwich. He tweaked it once, in 1927, but I believe it's time for a few of the lyrics to be updated.

For instance, "I don't care if I never get back" refers to leaving the premises and returning home. The person in the song wants to stay with the crowd, which means he's obviously not attending a Washington Nationals game.

Today, though, it'd be more a case of "I don't know if I can afford to come back." Let's face it, attending a major league baseball game has become a one-and-done proposition for a lot of people, particularly those who plan a trip to the ballpark as a family outing.

And what about that whole "buy me some peanuts and cracker jack" thing? After paying for parking and tickets, fans in 2009 are lucky if they can afford water out of a fountain.

Those are still found in baseball stadiums, aren't they? Seeing as how today's franchise owners greedily refuse to engage in acts of generosity -- notice how the two-games-for-one-ticket-price doubleheader is now considered an anathema -- you can't be sure of anything.

From a collecting standpoint, what's really bad about the highly inflated cost of attending professional sporting events is that it removes any temptation to purchase ancillary items. Back in the day, buying mementos was a big part of the being-there-in-person experience.

Of course, most people bought game programs, but kids especially also had an eye for trinkets. A favorite was the batting helmet, usually available for the majority of pro teams at every stadium and for a monetary outlay of only a few bucks.

I have several of those myself, some dating back far enough to where four pieces of strategically placed foam rubber kept the helmet affixed to the wearer's head. Another age indicator is team colors -- the 1970s featured a bright orange helmet for the Astros, blue-and-white ones with red insignia for the Braves and Twins, and a rather unattractive brown-and-yellow combo number for the Padres.

Helmets didn't only come in full-sized versions, however. Mini-helmets were also popular, including some that were small enough to fit in the palm of a youngster's hand with room to spare. Miniature bats, pennants, caps and packs of black-and-white player photos were other collectibles that attracted more than a few fans.

Three-plus decades later, the intrinsic value of said items is probably minimal. But as I've written numerous times, an eventual resale never entered the minds of yesteryear's collectors.

The caps, helmets and pennants were simply tangible reminders of a good day, something to cherish long after the outcome of the contest had been forgotten. Once upon a time, that alone was enough to make ownership worthwhile.

Sadly, those days, like the foam-rubber helmet inserts, are long gone.

This column is solely the writer's opinion. Reach him at kenneth.karrson@nwi.com.