Take Me Out to the Ball Game
Last night I finally got a chance to see my first baseball game this season. And it served to confirm two of my long-standing observations about the game.
First, most people who are selected to sing the national anthem can't sing. This was horrific, screeching cat-fight, headache-inducing, nightmarish event that will haunt me for years to come. Granted, it's not the easiest tune to sing, considering that it's supposed to be based on an old drinking song. Because of that, I suppose it would always sound better after everyone has kicked back a pint or two. A the singer, being that well-lubricated, is certain to be able to hit those high notes without breaking.
OK, I'm exaggerating a bit about how bad it was, but it was bad. Maybe the singer was nervous, which is understandable, and it is a tough tune, but this was not a good performance. Maybe that's why most people who sing it feel they can so freely embellish it with their "own musical interpretation." If I want to hear an interpretation, I'll crank up the volume on Jimmy Hendix's rendition. That's an interpretation worth hearing.
Second thing. Every section has some loud oaf who knows more about the game than anyone around him, or the players on the field. These radio announcer wannabes (who annoy those of us who actually worked in radio) who think they understand the game really ought to try to keep quiet and watch what's happening. I suppose that's really hard to do when you are eating nachos, hot dogs, and sodas the entire time.
Despite that, when you are at a ball game you are part of a community. The guy next to you, who you wouldn't dare speak to on the street, is transformed into a pal. Someone you can talk to casually, and openly about the game and all its nuances.
Try doing that on public transportation.
First, most people who are selected to sing the national anthem can't sing. This was horrific, screeching cat-fight, headache-inducing, nightmarish event that will haunt me for years to come. Granted, it's not the easiest tune to sing, considering that it's supposed to be based on an old drinking song. Because of that, I suppose it would always sound better after everyone has kicked back a pint or two. A the singer, being that well-lubricated, is certain to be able to hit those high notes without breaking.
OK, I'm exaggerating a bit about how bad it was, but it was bad. Maybe the singer was nervous, which is understandable, and it is a tough tune, but this was not a good performance. Maybe that's why most people who sing it feel they can so freely embellish it with their "own musical interpretation." If I want to hear an interpretation, I'll crank up the volume on Jimmy Hendix's rendition. That's an interpretation worth hearing.
Second thing. Every section has some loud oaf who knows more about the game than anyone around him, or the players on the field. These radio announcer wannabes (who annoy those of us who actually worked in radio) who think they understand the game really ought to try to keep quiet and watch what's happening. I suppose that's really hard to do when you are eating nachos, hot dogs, and sodas the entire time.
Despite that, when you are at a ball game you are part of a community. The guy next to you, who you wouldn't dare speak to on the street, is transformed into a pal. Someone you can talk to casually, and openly about the game and all its nuances.
Try doing that on public transportation.
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