There is a Swedish woman sitting next to me. We have just met, and she has a very heavy accent so I’m really trying hard to listen carefully. The organ music plays. The crowd yells “CHARGE!” The organ music plays again, growing more intense. The crowd yells “CHARGE!” The same thing happens a third time.
She turns to me and asks what just happened, except it sounds more like, “Vat is dah reason for dat?”*
I tell her it’s sort of a rally cry. An age-old baseball tradition.
“Ah, oh-kay,” she says. “Just one question: who is dis Charles dey are yelling for?”
I then snort beer through my nose.
_________
The extremely outgoing thirteen-year-old girl behind us:
“Man, I love baseball games. Don’t you? I just love the atmosphere. The hot dogs, the crack of the bat, the peanut shells on the ground! It is all so great! What about you? What do you love about baseball?”
“Catcher butts.”
Because she’d obviously already thought of everything else.
_________
“It’s so great to get out. I feel like all I’ve been doing is homework and housework. I didn’t even realize how much I needed this.”
“Yeah, me neither. I mean, who knew baseball could be so relaxing?”
“Well, probably everyone. But I know what you mean.”
“It’s like jewelry. I never know how much I love it until I see it. Baseball is like diamonds.”
“Do you realize what you just said?”
“Wha….? Oh.”
We are both in school. Clearly one of us is handling it better than the other.
____________
*My apologies for attempting to replicate a Swedish accent in type.
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