Baseball has such a great appeal because you do not have to be a physical freak to play. A variety of body types can play. Manute Bol, for example, would provide one inviting strike zone. These photos demonstrate that fans too come in all shapes and sizes and colors.
Not that I am above the fray, mind you. In Regina, Saskatchewan, I had to try and hit a wiffleball from homeplate to a small opening on a board they set up at second base. Actually, my wife coerced me. I was thrilled to have just outraced a bunch of Canadian kids for a homerun ball when she anxiously corraled me. We had the winning program, if I accomplished the feat, I think the prize was a whopping $1,500. I hit the ball on a line but woefully short. Another time the general manager at a California League game coaxed me into a homerun hitting contest after the game. I didn't win (LOL) but I did get an official baseball.
|
Here's a picture
of my wife and her brother at a Portland (Maine) Sea Dogs game. Unfortunately
the game was sold out, but, with a little exploring, I found that you could
watch the game over the leftfield fence from the railroad tracks that ran
by the park. Nothing will stop me from my quest. Certainly not something
as piddling as a lack of tickets. After the fifth inning ushers stopped
watching the turnstiles, and we snuck in and enjoyed the rest of the game.
Memo to Portland: we bought souvenirs so the club did make money off us.
Certainly more than if we were barred admission. Don't send the police!
The Minors take
advantage of the fact that we Americans will do anything for freebies. They'll
spin kids around until they're dizzy before letting them wobble to and fro
racing to the finish line at first base. I haven't seen anybody vomit yet,
but it's certainly a possibility. They do enough of that in the movies.