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Why I'm Proud to be an American
The grill sizzles as bags fly through the air during an intense game of bag toss. Once the game ends, the heated competitors return to friends as each of them sit in their chairs and shovel perfectly grilled burgers into their mouths. The friends talk, eat, and then make their way towards the gates.
The stadium’s high walls cast a monstrous shadow over the excited fans. The moment they know the fun is about to begin is when they hear the simple words, “Tickets please!”
Finding the seat that matches the ticket is like a puzzle starting out the adventure. The prize for finding the seat is the view of the bright green grass and smooth tan dirt trampled by men athletic enough to be considered superhumans.
The white bases glow, making the field even more vibrant. All this imagery is breathtaking in itself, and then comes the loud interruption.
“LADIESSSS AND GENTLEMEN,” yells an announcer. “Welcome to another great day of Major League baseball!”
The fans scream. The peanuts scatter across the ground. Beer and soda fill the cup holders. And then every so often…CRACK! The player sends the ball soaring through the air with a powerful swing of the bat.
As the game winds down, and all the singing of songs is passed, fans empty the stadium in a rush to beat the traffic. The winning team’s fans rejoice and celebrate as the losing team’s fans solemnly drive home with their spirits down.
There is the freedom to go watch, the opportunity for talented young men to play, and the tradition of tailgating and cheering until you lose your voice. These noises, sounds, and experiences are exactly why I’m proud to be an American.
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