Reznet

Baseball on a Gray Day

By Lina Miller

An essay, with apologies to Ken Fuson

This is how Des Moines, Iowa, baseball fans enjoy a day at the ballpark: Families struggle in single file to find their seats, balancing trays of hot dogs, sodas and popcorn in one hand and holding their tickets in the other; fans peer down from the skyboxes, thankful for an air-conditioned escape from the muggy, gray day; a gray-haired man in a blue baseball cap keeps his attention focused on the American flag that waves in the distance while his family chatters around him; the national anthem glides around the silent crowd, through the aroma of hot dogs and suntan lotion; players warm up in the outfield, tossing baseballs back and forth, and attempt to shake off the memory of two consecutive disasters (18-8, 19-4); "Ice cold, fresh lemonade!"; the crowd howls when a fly ball is caught in the outfield, but the home run that follows gives way to memories of the past two games; foul balls soar over the crowd into the parking lot and eager fans dive for the balls that shoot into the stands; random claps and shouts cut through the chatter, and "those evil red-winged black birds" fly low over the players' heads; "Souvenirs here! Get your souvenirs!"; the announcer's commands of, "Let's go nuts!" leave the crowd unresponsive, but people roar when the home team makes a double play; sunburned men sit alone in muscle T-shirts cracking peanuts shells, when one exclaims, "You've got to be kidding me!", and children run around the empty outfield seats as their parents intently watch the game; young boys dressed in navy and orange baseball uniforms keep an eye on Cubbie the cartoon-like bear mascot, and groups of women in matching red Cubs shirts carry around too-tall beers; in the bottom of the third inning a mother promises an autographed baseball in return for good behavior, and a father puts his back to the field to snap a picture of his smiling family in the front row; in the concession area, red-shirted employees looks bored behind mounds of fresh popcorn, and fans watch the game on television screens above the menus as they wait in line; people clutch funnel cakes covered in powdered sugar, a rainbow of drink bottles, and cups overflowing with blue slush; mothers cradle their red-faced children and big brothers hold little sisters' hands as they make their way through the crowd; back on the field, a T-shirt cannon shaped like a baseball bat shoots free gifts to jumpy fans, and grown-ups hand their prizes to frowning children; bottom of the fifth, the home team is down by three runs and a woman holding a tall can of beer dances in the aisle; a father holds his rosy-cheeked baby girl and points to the batter as he swings; bottom of the sixth, "Last call beer! Last call bottled water! Last call here!"; fans wait out the last inning of a losing game underneath sun visors, baseball caps and sunglasses, and organ music blasts through the speakers as kids dance along; bottom of the ninth and the home team is down by six runs; the game ends and the masses deal with another loss; fans file out and leave behind crumpled napkins, empty bottles, popsicle sticks and straws sticking out of drained red soda cups; once occupied green folding chairs empty as the crowd leaves the stadium and a few wander into the gift shop where walls of hats, racks of shirts, and buckets of souvenir baseball bats await; "Was that fun?" a blond mother asks her equally blond son; this is America's pastime and as the stadium becomes hollow, and ground workers dust off home plate, what remains is the possibility of the next game; another chance for the hometown crowd.

Lina Miller is a student at the University of Montana.