Posted by: Mary W. Farkas | July 22, 2010

Baseball

Baseball.

The sounds: the well-known voices of the local broadcasters, the knock of the bat, the roar of the crowd, the yelps and shrieks of the neighbors listening-in when our team makes a play or scores.

The sight: the colors of the teams, the green, green turf, the colors of the crowds in the stands. My local television broadcasters like to point their cameras at the crowds to focus on very cute babies, a little kid in a cap with a glove at the ready, beautiful women. They always manage to show couples where one is wearing the home team colors and the other is wearing the opponents’. That is just wrong.

The taste. The foods are so evocative of the game: peanuts, Crackerjack ™, and hotdogs. Our local stadium includes many ethnic favorites in our region, including crab sandwiches; micro-brews, Chinese selections, and Japanese rice bowls.

The touch and feel: baseball is a summer game, and summer weather in our town is cool, often gray, and windy. So, sweatshirts and sometimes, down jackets are apropos. One must wear the team cap proudly. Mine is over twenty years old, looking tatty but still a lovely hue. (Giants black.)

Smell? Since I watch baseball on television, or listen to the radio, I guess the smell of baseball is my usual cup of coffee. Black as night, bright as silver, tastes of cocoa or vanilla mingled with the roast goodness.

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