A tradition. As American as apple pie.
This last weekend, I had a savory taste of the sweet, crisp slice of a-la-mode pie that we call baseball.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I might become a baseball fan after all.
I married a baseball fanatic — well, a St. Louis Cardinals fanatic. And although I’ve always supported it, encouraged it and appreciated Jeff’s love of this American past time, I haven’t ever considered becoming a foam-finger-waving-fan myself.
I took Jeff to a St. Louis Cardinals game this past weekend in the baseball-loving city itself. And I must say, it was fun. Seriously fun. I get it now. I get the screaming fans, the t-shirts, the theme songs, the $10 hot dogs covered in mustard and the souvenir baseball cups that come with your $20 cup of ice with a splash of coke. It’s the experience of uniting with baseball fans of all ages to root for the home team.
The game reminded me of what our society is missing in our everyday encounters — that unifying camaraderie that connects us to a stranger, our neighbor, our friend…even if for just nine innings.
The Cardinals won. The weather was perfect. I spent the evening sitting next to my best friend (and husband). It’s times like these that make life so richly sweet. One slice of warm apple pie at a time.