The Sounds of the Game

Baseball is back.  Close your eyes.  What do you hear?

Recently, Seamheads ran a piece featuring the earliest baseball memories of some of our online friends and followers.  Although I didn’t have time to contribute my thoughts to the column itself, I started revisiting my early relationship with the game.  I flashed back to falling asleep on the floor of my parents’ Brooklyn apartment as a Mookie Wilson ground ball trickled between the legs of Bill Buckner.  I felt the joy as I donned a replica baseball jersey with my name clearly printed across the back.  I remembered the pride swelling in my chest as I marched with my fellow Little Leaguers through Prospect Park on that first Saturday of the season.  Besides the events, for every memory, I recalled the sounds.

From the low clicks of empty peanut shells dropping to the ground to the swish of a runner sliding into third, a distinct clamor permeates the game of baseball.  It is this background noise that causes baseball to stand out among the other sports.  More than any other game, baseball is a full sensory experience.  The fan and player alike revels in not only the events on the field, but also the wall of sounds, the odor of hot dogs, pretzels, and freshly oiled leather.

Between the crack of the bat, the pop of the ball nestling into the mitt, the bellowing of umpires, and the incessant chatter—a distinct combination of long blasting vowels punctuated by short clattering consonants—emanating from the infield and the dugouts, baseball sounds different than any other sport.  Close your eyes. Listen to cleats toeing the infield dirt, outfielder’s calls of “I got it,” the muffled crunch of a sunflower seed shell breaking between teeth. Whether you sit in the luxury seats behind the plate, the nosebleeds in the upper deck, or the bleachers of your local Little League field, the game sounds the same.

Just as the game’s commotion provides baseball with its own unique background, baseball delivers an ambience to spring and summer.  When the calendar page turned to April 5th and Brett Myers delivered the first pitch of the 2009 baseball season, the still and silence of winter broke.  Radio broadcasts of games now replace the pop songs of FM radio.  Instead of the laugh tracks of serialized sit-coms, we hear the roars of the crowd.  Now, the sizzle of meat on a grill is joined by the crack of the bat, the pop of the mitt, and the umpire’s bellow.  The vibrant din of baseball has once again supplanted winter’s hush.

Close your eyes and let the sounds of summer wash over you.  Baseball season has returned.