A photo of the author and his beloved as model observers of a baseball contest.


Unflappable. We will not be flapped.

There are many differing demeanors found among the attendees of any baseball contest. The above photo contains a number of them.

There is the photo-bombing younger sister (seen at left above), who has no interest in the game to begin with, but sees an evening at the ballpark as an occasion to enjoy nonetheless.

There is the moderate fan (at center above, between the figures of the foreground), wearing apparel that expresses his casual, Nike-sponsored fandom. He is intelligent and observant, but really, he knows little about the intricacies of the game, and he doesn’t care to know them. He is there to clap excitedly at the triumphs of the home team, nod in pity at its shortcomings, and to otherwise mind his reasonably handsome business. For him, this contest constitutes entertainment; it is not baseball.

There is the sleeping fan (at right above, his peaceful face just peeking out) who took too much sun and too much drink while tailgating before the game. He is an excitable fan, normally — not one of the fair-weather types, he’ll tell you. Normally, however, he doesn’t have so much to drink.

There are, finally (and at the focus of the photo above), fans who consider themselves to be the model fans, whom nothing escapes as far as the contest itself is concerned; who consider the wave to be fascist but never say so; who believe that the ballpark is no place for children or for those possessed of weak bladders; who clap and cheer and harbor heartbreak only with their minds, and with the subtle, silent shifting of their attention to follow the action.

When these fans have children, and when those children are able to sit still long enough to attend a ballgame, those children shall not require popped corn or the like; they shall only require the sound of oak or ash striking cowhide, the bright lights of the ballpark on their unblemished faces, the flowing swoop and scoop of the shortstop, the firmness of the park’s seats on their well-disciplined hindquarters…

And they, too, shall have their likenesses immortalized on such a baseball blog as this.



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David G. Temple
Editor

Haha. Your wife has a beard.

Dan
Guest
Dan

The model fan is EXPLICIT in his opinion that the wave is fascist (and dumb).

Jack
Guest
Jack

Also, he/she carries a sharp object to pop any beach balls.

kdm628496
Member
kdm628496

i had no reason to believe otherwise, but finding out that cistulli has a beard blew my mind. YOUR APPEARANCE DOES NOT MATCH YOUR VOICE, CHUMP! I DEMAND YOU REMEDY THIS IMMEDIATELY!

kdm628496
Member
kdm628496

whoa turns out i can’t read authorship. i apologize for my outburst. i’ll go away now.

Navin Vaswani
Editor

You’re very handsome, Baumann.

Kyle
Member

“…those children shall not require popped corn.” Wonderful.

SirDave
Guest
SirDave

Clearly Nike fan is so into the game that he’s checking the positioning of the outfielders between pitches. Or possibly staring into the sky, counting clouds.

Crazy Jorge
Guest
Crazy Jorge

Leave it to a community of nerds on the wrong side of the Autism spectrum to fail to comment on the beauty of the beloved’s eyes. Nice catch, Baumann.

Dave Barker
Member

This was great. I enjoyed the mood of this post a lot.

Pioneer Skies
Guest

That photobombing sister will haunt my dreams forevermore.

Micah Stupak
Guest
Micah Stupak

Ah, crap, NotGraphs is full of hipsters. This game is just way too mainstream now that dumbed-down New York rules replaced the better Massachusetts Game.

geo
Guest
geo

In humanity there exists a vestigial memory of an enclosed green space as a place of freedom or play.

Smooth
Guest
Smooth

We’re all better off living the Baumann lifestyle.

Bryz
Guest

I shall now strive to take a picture of me and my beloved in the same manner as the Mr. and Mrs. above. Alas, my beloved will not comply on the grounds of “What’s the point? I thought you hated matching other people!”

Kris
Guest
Kris

I liked you better when I thought you were fat.

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