The year is 1982. I am 11 years old. I own a cheap, knock-off zipper jacket. I own Thriller on LP. I listen to it a lot.
Mind you — I was 11 years old. I think there may have been a law back then. “All citizens under the age of 14 must purchase a copy of Michael Jackson’s Thriller — or tape it off their friend — and spend at least two hours a day in a ridiculous and ultimately futile attempt to learn the Moonwalk.”
Yes, he was a messed-up freak, but who made him so? Besides, “Wanna Be Starting Something” is pretty amazing,
PS — this is like the 10th time in the last few weeks that I’ve found out about breaking news on Twitter before anywhere else. Farrah Fawcett’s death, Ed McMahon’s death, the whole crazy South-Carolina-governor-cheats-on-his-wife-and-goes-missing-in-Argentina thing, even the severe thunderstorm we had earlier today.
Don’t quite know what to make of that yet, but it feels interesting.
First of all, under ideal conditions baseball requires of its fans three full hours of sitting outside in the sunshine. And there’s not much that’s wrong with that.
For less than the cost of a movie ticket, if you’re lucky enough to live in a town with a minor league team, you can spend your evening listing to the sound of the train whistle, drinking a beer or three, a watching the giant Italian sausage race the giant Polish kielbasa around the bases between innings.
And since baseball takes a while to play, there’s a correspondingly relaxed vibe in the stands. Even the guys who’ve had a beer or six tend to behave like colorful cut-ups rather than violent douchebags.
And finally — even if your team takes a pounding (as the Rochester Red Wings did last night to the Toledo Mud Hens) and even if you’re coming off a six-game losing streak (as the Phillies are tonight) — you have to work pretty hard to not have a good time at the ballpark.
Take me out to the ballgame.