Baseball

I love the World Series.
It goes back a long time. When we little girls, in small town Saskatchewan, the World Series was big stuff.
Back then, they were often on Labor Day weekend. And this was the weekend for cleaning windows at our house.
With the radio blaring as loud as it would go, everyone both inside and outside cleaned windows and listened to the World Series. By game 2, we had all the names down pat. And we knew who we were cheering for.
Mel Allen was the play by play guy. He knew everything, and we would have trusted him with our lives. Friendly and confident, his big voice "welcome to the World Series" sent shivers down our spines. As things heated up, we'd scream with delight or moan with frustration, but at every moment we were having the time of our lives.
I remember listening to the World Series in school one year! In the classroom!
Tonight, I'm still having the time of my life. Big HDTV. Surround sound. A Mel Allen sound-alike.
A baseball going 95 miles per hour. On the re-play, I see the label on the ball turning and turning as it slowly enters the glove of the catcher. For the first time I'm seeing the different ways that a pitcher can manipulate a ball. It's fascinating.
Thousands of people booing or cheering - a sea of sound - a baseball game sound.
"There's not a shorter leash in baseball than he's got him on right now" An on-air comment by the color guy. Great command of the English language. Great theatre, Great athletics.
What could be more "American" than the World Series of baseball.