I hear a crowd. I see the chevrolet fountain. I smell old hot dogs. I taste salted peanuts. I feel good.
Sure, the Tigers are losing right now, but the game isn’t over for like 1.5 innings. There is time yet to absorb it all, to have the game imprinted on the folds of my brain. To hear a bearded man yell “haoooooooo”. I don’t see him, but I just know he has a beard. I can hear it.
40,000 of my friends and I are passing the time, American style. The wind brings a 10 degree drop in air temperature, prompting hoodies and huddles. The pitcher was just invited to leave the mound as “Don’t Stop Belevin'” plays over Comerica Park’s speakers, a hopeful song at this moment in the game. The people in section 105 sing “born and raised in SOUTH DETROIT!” with the passion of the indigenous.