Listening

I spent much of the weekend listening to the Giants games, in and out, here and there, against the Brewers in Milwaukee and then the Padres at home. In general, I feel weird when the TV is on for long stretches at a time, or for several hours, several days in a row. Maybe I worry that I’m not being productive enough, not outside enjoying a beautiful day, but instead just lounging on the couch in my snuggie while the Giants to do this or that, and I stress or celebrate, depending on the this or the that. So, I resort to listening, which is an entirely different experience. I can listen on the back porch in the sun (see, I am enjoying the day) or can listen on my way home from work, making the long walk all the more manageable. Listening requires me to imagine the scene, forces me to be more engaged. I can hear the din of the crowd in Milwaukee but can’t see them. I can hear a double, but have to imagine Velez’s quick run or Molina’s labored motion. Yesterday, while eating lunch, I heard Uribe and Renteria’s back-to-back home runs. They were just down the street, at home, and I could see them too, could see the crowd on their feet and the sun up high over the bay. And then a friend texted. She was listening in her car and pulled over to share the news. It was a shift in the day, a return to the fundamentals, momentum in the right direction.

In honor of listening, I give you Harry Caray, the first announcer I heard, the voice I still here.