Baseball Lunacy

As MLB playoffs kickoff, I would like to say fare thee well to the regular season. You see sometime around February I start to feel a little restless about going to see live baseball. The food, the sounds, the smells, the game itself; these are all things I look forward to.

There are of course various idiosyncrasies I could do without. So it is now that I take a look at the various items Major League Baseball must address before next season.

The Beach Ball

If walking down the street I am hit in the head with a beach ball I am usually surprised and annoyed. If I am at a baseball game I widely expect that I will not only have a beach ball in my proximity but human adults will climb over seats and people to try and hit it. The beach ball itself does not bother me. It is the look in the eye of a grown man hitting a beach ball at a live event. The shear joy and amazement in their face should really only be enjoyed by a five year old catching a soap bubble on their nose.

Audience Depth Perception

This is my favorite. Anytime there is a fly ball to any part of the outfield, the majority of the paid attendance stands up and expects a home run. A routine pop up is always followed by a surprised sigh from the crowd. Did our ability to tell the flight of a spherical object get taken at the gate? Please in the future, make note of the outfielders for home run potential. Just a hint.

The Wave

When I was a little boy I used to like seeing ‘The Wave.’ It was awesome to see so many people unify and perform one. I also thought The Lost Boys was a sensational movie so taste really was not my strong suit.

Has no one but me tired of ‘The Wave?’ It really does nothing for me now. I think around age 10 I lost the whole “Wow, that really looks like a wave” feeling. Now when there is wave I can be assured that I will miss either a double play, strikeout, double, or something of note just because the guy in front of me stands up at a crucial time.

I guess what I am wondering is how we regress 40 IQ points the minute we enter the stadium gates. Logic and good sense go out the window. Going to see baseball game takes an extreme amount of self convincing in various areas. I have to disregard the idiocy of paying $15 for three hours of parking, $10 bucks for a domestic beer, and then being forced to pee in a urinal trough like I was a barn animal. But all in all, I will do it. Because in a month, baseball will be gone. A month later I will forget all about the crowd peccadilloes and will be filled with a yearning for another season. Here is to that feeling.

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