A DAY AT THE STADIUM . . .

I almost fell asleep during today's game, but thank goodness I managed to keep my eyes open for this: Derek Jeter's first career grand slam EVAH..

And the icing on the cake? In the grand tradition of the C.o.S., I CALLED IT.

Cheech: You know, of all the major league players who have been playing as long as Jeter has, he's the only to never have hit a grand slam.
Me: Really? How sad.
Pause.
Me, pointing to outfield: Then he's going to jack one RIGHT NOW.

And BAM. It be done. 'Twas jacked.

***

I don't get our national anthem. It's about a flag. Alright, alright, the tune is inspirational, and I still get all sorts of weepy-eyed and tingly whenever I hear the Whitney Houston-Super Bowl version (pre-crack Whitney, that is). But it's still about a flag. And people don't know the words to it anyway, which is just about the saddest thing. And then people -- the same people who don't know the words -- stop singing the wrong words with several left to go, and start whistling and hooting and hollering and clapping. SO DISRESPECTFUL, it gets my hackles up every time. In no other country would people do that to their national anthem (no other country, as far as I know, as a national anthem about a flag); in some countries you get shot for doing that; in some countries, the music is so dreary, it doesn't even really lend itself to thoughts of applause.

I'm no raging right-wing Republican patriot, but even I have boundaries. Don't let the flag touch the ground. Take your hat off when the anthem starts up, and stand up for heaven's sake. Learn the words and sing them correctly. And for all that is mighty and good, wait until the song is over before you start screaming like a banshee just because you hear the words "land of the free and the home of the brave."

***

In the same vein, I don't really understand the 7th-inning stretch anymore either, and I'm very curious about people's responses to it. I don't know about other ballparks, but at The Stadium (is there really any other? Puh-leeze.), they play "God Bless America" before busting into "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" and "Cotton-Eyed Joe" (which is just a whole other phenomenon I don't really get). And everyone rises, takes off their caps, and places their hands over their heart ... AS IF IT'S THE NATIONAL ANTHEM. What the?!?!?

I personally would love it if it were our national anthem -- you know, the song being about our country and not merely its flag, and all. But I realized today: the song is a prayer. To God. I wondered today how many people around me who would disclaim God completely sang that song -- with their caps off and their hands over their hearts -- with utter abandon. And what would they do if someone pointed out to them, "dude, you just sang a prayer to God"? Soooo curious.

Yes, these are the things I think about while at a baseball game.

And then of course, there was that asinine clapping and screaming towards the end of the song. Poor Ronan Tynan -- his grand finale always gets washed out by the crowd, in prayer.

***

So I'm home now, trying to stay awake until a more respectable hour to go to sleep. And what do I hear from the house next door, through their and my open windows? Some young child -- or so I would assume -- warming up his trumpet. Very flatly warming up his trumpet, but valiant effort, I say. And he proceeds to bust into a hearty, though musically suspect, rendition of "God Bless America."

Thankfully, his small audience waited to applaud until after the song had ended.