There's plenty of popcorn, and an unseen train occasionally rumbles by beyond the center field fence. The crowd's small but always pleasant, a nice blend of pale, yawning hungover students (if you listen closely you can hear them muttering about their exploits, between innings, half-grinning; a couple of them are studying for finals, or complaining about same), some fellow athletes of different sports out to cheer their colleagues—a cluster of women softball players, today—some girlfriends of athletes, and families, including a nice number of traveling Akron families today, equipped with portable soft-seats, wearing their oddly-different school sweatshirts and cheering their sons by name. And because the play is a bit closer to adolescence in spirit and skill level than to the Majors, I can indulge in some memories of my own, inconsequential time playing ball as a kid. The sun was high in the blue sky but the day was not oppressively hot. I had to leave in the eleventh, by which time the Huskies has excitingly tied the game; they'd been behind the whole contest.
And several players were wearing old-school stirrups, which bodes well for the sartorial future of the game at the Major League level. All of this helps to blunt the awful ping of college metal bats. Easily ignored on a day like this.