Ed. note: We had a Smile Politely writers party/outing to a Danville Dans game this past Friday. At the risk of being too meta, here’s William’s account of the experience:
Welcome to the small time.
A lavender sunset spreads behind the little baseball stadium. The baseball game – Danville vs. Terre Haute — was scheduled to start an hour behind schedule, which would have been an hour and a half ago. On the diamond, the red and blue-uniformed teams are off in the outfield, far away from the crowd, enjoying an innocent game of… soccer. It seems that the infield is full of officials wandering aimlessly. Two men with rakes don’t bother. A jocular announcer who has sporadically used the P.A. to announce birthdays and give away undisclosed prizes now comes on the speakers to tell us “the good news and the bad news.” The good news is that the first pitch will be thrown as usual. The bad news is that no baseball game will follow it.
The baseball game has been called. The field is unsafe because it rained the previous day. The crowd is upset. Rows of angry dads with polo shirts tucked into jorts hung with cellulars, moms in over-sized T-shirts, hyperactive children in ballcaps, and one bleacher bench of incognito internet hipsters — us — all boo, expressing dismay in the sporting event audience tradition.
The sun has set. The soccer game continues, and the crowd stays planted for the promised fireworks. The momentum of disappointment carries us into the Illinois night. Adding insult to (overly cautious fear of) injury, a notably unprofessional rendition of “Take Me Out To The Ball Game” crackles through the speakers.
I am taken aback. I work every weekday in a university building that was declared unsafe and was 75% evacuated. If an office worker like me can face the threat of being buried alive in rubble, surely a career athlete can risk a twisted ankle? Is this another sign of the litigious, fearful times that have brought us a smoking ban in bars and bland, safe playground equipment for kids?
“I ate a hot dog for nothing,” Cristy complains. This would have been my first ever baseball game, indeed my second non-high-school sporting event of any kind, except for one stock car race.
I am saved. The Smile Politely Writers Party is a success.
(Ed. Note: Whoever identifies the most SP writers wins!)