“Oh, boy……here they come again,” I thought to myself as I stood up to allow the fellow baseball fan to squeeze by. Whoever designed this particular stadium seemed to have only one thing in mind: How to maximize profits from seating. Customer experience was surely less of a consideration as no one can exit a row without the entire aisle having to stand. This was my 6th pop-up in 13 minutes. I felt like a jack-in-the-box.
It was a perfect night to experience this classic summer ritual: low humidity, mild temperature, and a beautiful sky above. The stands were comfortably full and activity abounded. The concession counters seemed to be bustling nearly as much as the ball park, as evidenced by the relentless parade of patrons--each holding their caddies of carbs like discovered treasure. One attends such an event to enjoy themselves--pure dietary abyss. Proof overflowed.
It seems like only yesterday that the recounting of “the good ‘ole days” was a pastime owned by the seasoned among us and I was not one of them! Today, I find myself beginning to share my yesteryear….funny, how that happens… Reminiscence can be sparked at the strangest times. Having been several years since I last attended a baseball game, I quickly learned how much things had changed!
I remember a day when the local baseball team was comprised of souls you might know: the neighbor’s son, a third cousin, or a guy from your high school. Those days have slipped away, as not a single member of this team was from the home state, much less county! A third of the team hailed from foreign lands, including: Venezuela, Puerto Rico, Dominican Republic, Bahamas, and Mexico. Curiously, I noted the audience was not as connected to the activity on the field either.
Sitting in a row before me was a family of seven. Their ages ranged from 6 to 45. My view of the diamond necessitated looking past this lot. What a scene it was! The entire 3 hour ordeal was spent adjusting selfie-sticks, watching music videos on their iPhones, inhaling philly cheesesteaks, and guzzling sodas and beer. I never noted any of them viewing the game, whatsoever. Different times, indeed.
The game was slow until the 9th inning. At that particular point, the visiting team tied the hometown players. Alas, in the 10th inning, they continued their stampede, gaining an extra 2 runs to claim victory. In the past, the crowd would have been quite raucous. -- The fans’ jactitation would have been extreme! -- Instead, there was a feeling of laissez faire. Lackluster. The reaction was similar to viewing the last fizzy bubble dissipate from your plastic cup of Cheerwine. I felt rather deflated. Numb. I longed for the days of enthusiasm and emotion.
Thankfully, one tradition has not changed. That is the fireworks show following the game. The sky lit with a multitude of colors and shapes. It brought back many memories. I recognized that though time moves on and things may change, one can still hold dear the memories they prize the most. Just about that time, I realized the patrons to my left had decided to leave.
Up, I stood, again.
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