Take Me Out To The Ball Game
America’s favorite pastime, baseball, has always brought people together for decades. Growing up as an American child I have experienced this sport first hand. It is defiantly a unique experience and for each participant it serves a different purpose. Young or old, black or white, wealthy or poor; you can find them all at a baseball game. The bleachers are an ocean of colors, with every individual coming together as one. Whether you root for the home team or visitors you join the league of fans. Baseball also acts, as a leader in American Popular Culture, in that is has introduced several other American customs.
I have had the opportunity to be a part of several baseball outings on both the fan and player side of the fence. As a child I was involved in many levels of the community baseball leagues. The irony of the whole experience is that no matter how different I grew as a player and no matter how different the surroundings became, so much still remained the same. Such as the attendance of my fans (parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles). Outside of baseball we had so little time together. It was very rare to even sit down to a dinner or just have a chat together, but I could always count on them to be at my baseball game. The same is true with the game itself. When I started T-Ball, the challenge was just to hit the ball off the tee, but as I grew older and began high school softball my challenge was to choose the perfect pitch for that line drive to the out-field. Overall my goal was always to make it on base.
Baseball is different from any other sport in more aspects than just the tactics of the game. The whole atmosphere that surrounds the stadium is not necessarily one of aggression as you could find at a football or hockey game, but rather a jovial congregation of warm-hearted citizens. Some are die-hard-fans, while others are parents out to enjoy a night out with their families. No matter the reason for attendance you become involved in this American custom.
My family had gone to see a Phillies game when I was younger. The entire two-hour drive there was one of utter grief. Four adolescent children and two aggravated parents didn’t make for a joyful combination, yet once inside that stadium of bright lights, the bickering stopped. None of us had ever been to a major league baseball game and the sight alone was enough amazement for any child. We took our seats and once the game started, we were all fixed on the goofy Phillie Fanatic with hysterical laughter. Then the players took the field and we all became silent trying to comprehend what was going on. Throughout the whole game, our squabbling family was for a brief time just another family at the ballpark out for a night of fun. [next page]