i guess you could make an analogy of seats at a stadium to class structures.
box seat bourgeoisie
blue-collar bleachers and so on.
i’m probably messing up the terms.
County Stadium Milwaukee had its red seats and green ones,
upper and lower
box and grandstand
each had a number that matched the ticket.
like a private property chair,
until the last out anyway.
then there were the bleachers.
there were no private seats there.
i guess you could say it was communism,
all of us sharing space on wood planks,
we could see outfielders up close
and catch home runs too.
one of the first games i ever went to was with my older brother.
it was the Brewers against the Twins,
the year Carew flirted with .400.
we were in the upper grandstand.
a foul ball came there.
it pinballed around and disappeared.
we ran in its general direction, but couldn’t find it.
then this older guy reached down under a red seat and snagged it.
up went his arm.
another time, i was in the lower grandstand with my dad.
i forget who was batting,
but they hit a towering foul ball.
it was coming our way.
i cupped my hands together and watched it ricochet off the mezzanine.
arms went up all around me,
all kinds of arms.
I felt like a midget looking up at a levitating octopus.
the ball somehow eluded those arms and fell into my hands.
it had a black scuff mark on it from the mezzanine.
I had caught a foul ball.
i wish i could say i kept score of games or
studied the graceful gazelle like strides of Robin Yount or
clumsy back tracking of Ben Oglivie or
Gorman Thomas’s shaggy hair.
i wish i could describe in microscopic detail how each seat provided a different vantage point,
but where i sat never mattered.
i was just glad to be at the game or because ummmm…..
there was always a chance.