This is what it’s all about. The crack of the bat. The crisp summer air. The camaraderie of old friends on a beautiful new day.
These are all experiences I can’t wait to enjoy for myself as soon as I’m done waiting in line for a fourteen-dollar hot dog.
You can feel the triumphant swell of patriotism as we are called to rise for the national anthem. If you listen closely, can you hear our forefathers singing the very same melody as they, too, delighted in our national pastime?
I’m legitimately asking. Can you hear that? I am still in line for that hot dog.
No matter. Because soon after the game begins, another beautiful sound engulfs the park: CLINK! And then: the unmistakable, deafening roar of a stadium packed with delighted fans.
Simultaneously, another sound. The sound of me saying “fuck.”
Because I definitely just missed something super awesome. Because I am now in the ketchup line. Because, for some reason, that is completely separate from the hot-dog line.