Beer, brats, and baseball

As spring ends and summer begins, a Friday night with beer, brats, and baseball is quintessentially American.  At the end of the workweek, relaxing with a cold brew in hand, while grilling some brats and listening to the baseball game conjures up visions of a Norman Rockwell like picture.  The ball park, the crowd, the smells, and the sounds of America's past time.  Beyond the literal picture of the baseball game being played, there is something more profound for me.

While growing up, there thankfully wasn't the electronic entertainment bubble into which a young boy could disappear.  No video games, very limited TV, no iPods, no iPhones.  So active guys sought to be outdoors and baseball, in some form or another, was our recreation.  Whether it was the formal format of organized baseball or pick-up games in the local park, baseball was a healthy focus and outlet for our energies.  Even if it was just two guys throwing a ball or playing adapted games with a handful of players.  It also forced us to deal with issues of teamwork, confrontation, differing personalities, differing athletic skills, winning and losing, competition, achievement via effort, and other significant skills needed for success in general society.  We were interacting with one another, expending energy in a worthwhile activity, learning (to a greater or lessor extent) physical skills, operating within a systems of rules that were obeyed by agreement (without complaint) by all, and enjoying a social exchange.  Doing so wasn't hugely expensive, after the acquisition of a ball, glove, and bat.  Didn't need a HD TV or a computer.  We could be, and were, outside for hours on end, with short breaks for lunch.  Friendships were established, names and faces I remember now, some 50 years later.  Lessons were learned.  Elements of character developed.  Those who attempted to cheat were either corrected or excluded from the play.  Those who were the natural athletes were envied, but not to the point of fawning.  No one team was ever made up of all the good athletes and the other team the also rans.  No one cried when the game was over, one team having lost and one team won.  It was just a game.  The next day we were back out there again.  Same guys, but slightly different teams.  All in all, the experience was uniformly positive.  More's the pity that such activity doesn't happen around our nation today, as the by products are so very important.

So, as I sat with beer and brat in hand, watching the Friday night baseball game on TV, in many ways I'm still that young boy, wistfully imagining playing in the majors.  Admiring the great defensive play.  Yelling at the TV when the ump made what I thought was a bad call.  Cheering when someone on my team hit a towering home run.  With my wife at my side, I enjoy the nuances of the game, as well as the excitement seen in the faces of most of the players.

A middle America way to enjoy a Friday.