Meet Me In The Bleachers – An Ode To The Ball Park.
Fresh grass, cut neatly, smelling sweetly.
Pliable leather, woven into balls and gloves. Popping together with every pitch and catch.
Perfect dirt, raked around home plate, the rubber and bases. 60 feet 6 inches and 90 feet away.
The crack of the bat. Loud, clear and perfect, coming from a sweet swing and ball barrelled high, long, deep and gone.
The slow clap. Building momentum. Getting louder, faster and bigger as it takes over the park with 2 strikes, ending in a strike out and explosion.
Scorebooks and pencils held by the wrinkled hands of old men who still love this game and dive into it with a dedication that slips past a younger generation.
Hot dogs in the hands of men, women and children. Young, old, season ticket holders and first timers. Mustard and ketchup mixing to create memories of taste, smell and excitement.
The 7th inning stretch bringing thousands to their feet to get the blood flowing, the feeling back in their backside and all of those voices united as they begin, Take me out to the ballgame…
A young child, with a hat, glove and look of awe on their face as they look around the biggest ball park they’ve ever seen, with their heroes standing in front of them, in real life, for the very first time.
The reaction of a crowd so anxious for a moment of joy that they leap from their seats, cheer til their voices crack and hey exchange looks, high fives, handshakes and hugs with friends, strangers, ushers and enemies.
The feeling of accomplishment, relief, gratitude, happiness and community as tens of thousands of people leave the stadium doors after a win that they will take home with them wearing a smile and with a spring in their step.
These are the things that make the ball park one of the greatest places on earth. Whether you are in Toronto, Chicago, Boston, New York or St. Louis, the basics stay the same. The scoreboard and the giveways and the mascot don’t matter. It’s the game and the crowd and the sights, sounds and smells that make it an experience that you remember and want again.
I want it again. I will always want it again.
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creator of content, daddy blogger, writer, coffee drinker, fan of the Batman. proud mo bro. prouder dad.
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Meet Me In The Bleachers – An Ode To The Ball Park.
By Joshua Murray
Fresh grass, cut neatly, smelling sweetly.
Pliable leather, woven into balls and gloves. Popping together with every pitch and catch.
Perfect dirt, raked around home plate, the rubber and bases. 60 feet 6 inches and 90 feet away.
The crack of the bat. Loud, clear and perfect, coming from a sweet swing and ball barrelled high, long, deep and gone.
The slow clap. Building momentum. Getting louder, faster and bigger as it takes over the park with 2 strikes, ending in a strike out and explosion.
Scorebooks and pencils held by the wrinkled hands of old men who still love this game and dive into it with a dedication that slips past a younger generation.
Hot dogs in the hands of men, women and children. Young, old, season ticket holders and first timers. Mustard and ketchup mixing to create memories of taste, smell and excitement.
The 7th inning stretch bringing thousands to their feet to get the blood flowing, the feeling back in their backside and all of those voices united as they begin, Take me out to the ballgame…
A young child, with a hat, glove and look of awe on their face as they look around the biggest ball park they’ve ever seen, with their heroes standing in front of them, in real life, for the very first time.
The reaction of a crowd so anxious for a moment of joy that they leap from their seats, cheer til their voices crack and hey exchange looks, high fives, handshakes and hugs with friends, strangers, ushers and enemies.
The feeling of accomplishment, relief, gratitude, happiness and community as tens of thousands of people leave the stadium doors after a win that they will take home with them wearing a smile and with a spring in their step.
These are the things that make the ball park one of the greatest places on earth. Whether you are in Toronto, Chicago, Boston, New York or St. Louis, the basics stay the same. The scoreboard and the giveways and the mascot don’t matter. It’s the game and the crowd and the sights, sounds and smells that make it an experience that you remember and want again.
I want it again. I will always want it again.
Author profile
creator of content, daddy blogger, writer, coffee drinker, fan of the Batman. proud mo bro. prouder dad.
