St(r)uck out!

It has been well over a year and a half since America became integral with me. And in that time, there have been plenty of instances where I did things that were truly American. New to the country, I almost ended up doing something unique almost every day. As days turned to months and as months to a year, expectedly, my �American-things-done-count� began its decline.

But this Monday, a good friend of mine whom I shall christen A, took me to my first baseball game. Interestingly, A is what we Indians conveniently (and sometimes wrongly) call ABCD (for the un-informed ABCD stands for American Born Confused Desi). So there I was, an Indian with an American Indian spending an American evening.

Like other American sports that are played on the field, I found myself surprisingly close to the action. I am sure bigger stadiums would make things tougher but I was instantly reminded of the big house (University of Michigan, Ann Arbor�s football stadium – Go blue!) when you felt completely involved in the game always.

But surely, despite all its rules, player�s uniforms, umpires, bats, balls, losses and victories, Baseball was more then just a game. In true Americana, baseball managed to get the entire family into the stadium. And while Mr. American Dad was enjoying his glass of ice cold water-tastes-like-beer with his wife/ex/girl friend/female companion, his two kids engaged themselves in physically abusing the perfectly press-able mascot or queuing up to run on to the lush green out field. Others devoted their full time attention to the dollar hot dogs and to the dollar beers. I stuck out like a sore thumb, a brown Indian devoting his attention to the game.

Sure, they all clapped for a ball hit or a batter out. But it was a delayed reaction and more of a general consent than vigorous applause. �Yes� they said �We know you hit a home run but you must understand that I have my hands full! Please carry on!�

Right next to me were four old ladies. They, I admit were more interested in the game then average. Only to recollect their golden years when baseball fever was at all time high. A twinkle in eye was evident despite their criticism for that days play.

In between innings, kids did their kiddism�s on the field which were a part of the entertainment package too. Meantime, more food and nectar flowed. And just as I had seen in movies and Archie comics, a young teenage screamed to ask if anyone wanted hot dogs!

No doubt, people who follow the professional league and love this game even now, surely must have associated memories with this sport. Of a trouble free child hood, of loving and un-conquerable Dads and smiling mothers, of completely unhealthy food and sin filled dinners, of being heroes and legends in their backyards.

Baseball, more then a sport, seemed like an instrument for the Americans to hold on to their true blue star spangled Americana.