As I walked across the college campus just before the weekend, I dotted and dashed upon my Ipod, looking for one particular track. It's kind of a tradition for me to listen to this particular track, in fact the whole soundtrack, as September becomes October, and the remnants of the Boys of Summer line up to grab the Brass Ring.
I still get goosebumps, every time I hear it.
At around 10:30 last night, it was the top of the ninth, two men on and two men out and Jeter was at the plate. The crowd in Detroit was working on two levels; one level was the whooping, towel swinging, vocal intensity that you could hear all the way to Winsor; the other was a quiet intensity, a laser intensity, leveled at that square area between the knees and the letters, as wide a the plate.
Valverde wheels and deals. And the evening's air is shattered by the force of Jeter's blow.
And there's joy in Motown; Mighty Jeter has struck out.
Is there anything like Baseball in October?
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2 comments:
Sex in October? I know, smart ass. I love Motown. I ice cakes to old Jackson 5 music.
I thought of you last night. My professor for Bibliography and Methods of Research let us out a half hour early because he wanted to watch the Tigers play! I said a prayer of thanks to good ole Detroit, and the Tigers...and to you. I needed an early night.
I LOVE October baseball!
Just watched the movie Moneyball on Sunday. I suggest you watch it. What an amazing and interesting story.
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