The Ballpark

As I make my way through the crowd of people, I listen to the words they say. I hear the different screams and chants that they are yelling over and over again. I glance around to see what all is going on around me. Some people talking amongst themselves, while others seem to be in their own little world where no one can get to them. What do all of these people have in common? They are all out here to support and watch someone. Whether it is their own loved one or not. Everyone here is a huge fan. What are they watching? They aren't watching professional players do what they normally do. In fact these people are far from being professional. Some of them never will be. Some are just here to enjoy themselves. These kids are here to just play. They aren't getting paid millions to go out there and play. They get nothing except the satisfaction that they went out there and had a good time, whether they win or lose.
There they stand, waiting and trying to guess the next move of their opponents. A few of the kids are off in the field bored and tired with what is going on in the game. So they just stand there twiddling their thumbs, swinging their arms, or dancing in their own childish ways. Another few of them are picking flowers for their mother. Then you have a couple of kids who are determined to do everything right. They know they were born to play in this moment. To make the big play that wins it all for the team. When you look at the face of those few children, you don't see a hopeless look in their face, whether they are down by five or ten. You may not see a look of happiness or fun either. What you do see is a fire. A burning passion and a set determination. A respect for the game that they are playing. They cherish the moment, but they don't show it until they are off of the field. Once they step onto that green shinning grass, all emotions are set aside. Nothing else that happened, that day or the day before, matters to them anymore. They are ready to play. Then there is another set of kids. The ones who are enjoying themselves. Whether they are any good at the sport or not, they are having the time of their lives. Laughing and smiling like they never have.
Then you have the parents. The craziest fans the game has ever seen. Shouting, jumping up and down, singing, laughing, smiling, and crying. I see them now. The mothers wearing their homemade shirts, which they stayed up until midnight making. The fathers wearing their old high school or college jerseys, as if the coach may turn to them and ask them to step in for one of the kids. "I taught him that one! Way to go! Look at him, he is just like his old man!" yells the father in his most masculine tone of voice, the type that only comes straight from the belly. He taps and bumps everyone in the crowd just to show them his kid. A sort of pride that can never be taken away. "Honey are you ok? Look out! Don't play so rough, you might get hurt," the mother yells in a soft motherly tone of voice, the type that only comes straight from the heart. Her protective side is coming out of her. She doesn't want her baby to be hurt, even if her baby is a teenager. Some of the parents also take it upon themselves to be the coach, although there is already a coach and an assistant coach. A bad habit that parents seem to develop without knowing it. Some probably know it, but choose to ignore the fact that they do it.
The warm breeze, making the flag flap and flutter in the same course, brings the aroma of food with it. There is only one place which this smell can come from, the concession stand. They have everything there from giant pickles to Snickers bars. I take a deep breath trying to take in the various smells floating through the air. I can smell hot dogs, chili, nachos, and popcorn. Now that my interest is up about all of the different foods, I decide to take a quick look at what they have.
I make my way slowly through a crowd of people, only to be the last person in line. The line isn't that long, but it soon turns out that I am no longer the last in line. People gather behind me trying to discover the same treasure for which I am hunting. Finally, my turn is here. I am greeted by a friendly lady, who is there just to help me out and serve me whatever I desire. The concession stand is like a store all in itself. The nacho machine running in one corner, a drink machine in the middle with six or seven different types of drinks, and a huge pot of chili set next to the nacho machine. Hot dogs are turning over and over again in another machine in the opposite corner, while the popcorn is popping against the back wall. Candy is everywhere. Almost any kind of name brand candy is here. Taking up one whole wall, and spreading around a corner to take up a little more space. Under the counter there is another little secret bucket. This one the kids come in packs just to buy. In the bucket is bubble gum. A very cheap yet somehow amusing piece of candy. I finally decide I better not get anything to eat, so instead I take off in another direction.
Back to the game that I was at before the wind swept my attention away. As I head back to the stands, I can't help but to look around. I try to see all of my surroundings, and what all is happening around me. Little kids, not old enough to play yet, are running around with their other little friends. Pretending that they are either their older brother or sister, or that they too are old enough to play this game, which draws such a large crowd. I have been out here at least a couple of hours now. For some reason when you are out here, the time flies by so fast, almost as if God speeds up the world.
The huge lights are starting to turn on, so that the players on the field can see when it gets dark. It is coming down to the last minutes of the game now. The kids on the field are a little worn out, but still going strong. The parents too are still going strong. They are still yelling and hollering, but by now a few are starting to loose their voice. Which to others comes as a blessing, they just wished it would have happened sooner. The little kids are through playing with their friends and have managed to make their ways back to their mom and dad's arms and laps where they try to find a little rest. The field is quiet. The score is tied. We are down to the last few seconds of the game now. Anyone could win this game. Suddenly the whole crowd leaps out of their seat onto their feet. Watching intently as one little boy tries to make the winning score, but he fails. The other team with the last chance now takes their shot at the winning point. It seems as if everything is in slow motion, like the Hollywood movies show. The crowd still on their feet, yelling and encouraging their team. People are literally on their toes watching this game. Finally, the other team scored a point.
The whistle blows signaling the end of the game. One team, who lost, hangs their heads down low. Sorrow from the loss has overcome them, but in an instant they are filled with joy because they finally get to go home. The other team holds their heads high. They scream and jump with joy because they have just won their first game. Half of the parents jump up and down because the team they were routing for just won the game. The other half of the parents hangs their heads low, but soon starts clapping for their team, even though they just lost. The teams line up, and shake hands. All of the kids run back towards their parents, ready to finally go home. As everyone starts walking off of the field, they start to fade, like ghosts that were there one minute, but gone the next.
I look around and I see nothing but empty, overgrown fields. It was a memory from long ago. It seems as if no one has been here in ages. The wind is blowing, but there is no familiar smell. I take a walk to the concession stand to see the candy. But it has been long closed. Trash is still in the trash cans, almost overflowing. A wad of paper comes rolling past me, like a tumble weed from those old wild west movies you see on television.
I walk back to sit in the stands just to try again to bring back the old memories of days when this park was full of life. I am all alone in these stands. No one is here to watch the game except me. The only problem is that there hasn't been a game going on for years. As I look out across the field I don't see children playing anymore. All I see is an empty field. Overgrown weeds and grass are sticking up everywhere. The flag that once blew in the wind has been taken down. The lights are still standing tall, just begging to light up one more game. The lights remained faithful throughout the years, but now they are slowly dying like the rest of the place. I close my eyes one more time just hoping I can remember those days once again. Just praying that I get one more chance to inhale that tasty aroma of the hot dogs and nachos, but nothing comes to me. I still try, even though I know it is useless. It has been to long, and nothing will come to me anymore. This place that was once a way of life to some people, is now nothing but a ghost town.
I finally decide to leave because it breaks my heart to see something like this. I jump down from the bleachers to start heading home. If only I could smell that familiar aroma, or hear a familiar sound one more time, then I would stop and turn around. But I hear nothing. Without looking back I just keep on walking away from the ballpark.