I’ve only been to two professional baseball games in my life, the second of which was only recently to see the Cleveland Indians at Jacobs Field (technically now called Progressive Field, but it will always be ‘the Jake’ to me.)
The other came years ago in Arizona, observing the Diamondbacks in their air conditioned stadium on the surface of the sun.
Baseball is called an American past-time, and it is: watching a ball game is part of this country’s recreational DNA.
But my relationship with baseball, and professional sports in general, is complicated.
Continue reading “Peanuts, Cracker Jacks, and a complicated relationship with sports”