When it's worth remembering

There was a two-hour rain delay for the start of the night game at Hadlock Field last night: Portland Seadogs vs. Erie SeaWolves.

We decided not to go.

Can't say I'm a huge baseball fan, but the occasional game on a warm summer night is a nice outing. There's the awe-inspiring sight of the baseball diamond as you enter the stadium, the antics of Slugger the Sea Dog, and a night of people watching.

Thinking of what we'd be missing, I remembered a story I wrote about going to a game at Fenway. It'd been a while since I'd read the story and it reminded me why I like to to write.

There are so many details that are so easy to forget. 

Here's the story:

It was the first Major League Baseball game I’d ever been to, the Red Sox at Fenway Park. As a casual baseball fan, I can’t say I remember who they played or even whether or not they won.

What I do remember is the two men seated a few rows in front of us ... and the radio they held between them.

It wasn’t that it was annoying or distracting or too loud, it’s just that we could hear what they were listening to: the play-by-play of the ball game. A detailed account of what was happening.

Things like:

“That’s a ground ball up the middle.”

“Another fast ball,” and

“It’s a swing and a miss, and that’s strike three.”

Why, we wondered would they be listening to the play-by-play of the game? They were seated in some of the best seats in the stadium ... grandstand, first baseline, with a clear view of the Green Monster.

It took a few innings for us to figure it out.

The men were blind.

We never spoke to them, but still, after the game, we wondered ... why go to the stadium if you can’t see what’s happening?

It was while we pitched left, jerked right, and rocked to the rhythm of the subway on our way home after the game that it made sense to us ... they go to hear:

“Hot dogs here.”

And maybe eat one.

They go to smell the popcorn, to hear the crack of the bat, to listen and join in with the cheers and jeers of the crowd.

To know what it feels like to be part of the action.

---------------

That’s what stories do. Put you in the thick of things, where the action is. And they help you share what you know.

I hope you'll write a few of your own.

---

Like most journals, this one has lots of space for writing. But this one is different. This one's just for the good stuff.

Order yours today!