Anticipation Is A Big Part Of Ballpark Ritual

You’re driving east on Highway 40 — which, like “Ozzie” or “Whitey” or “Red,” never gets called its given name — and you’re heading down to the ballgame, when there’s this moment. You take that special left-side exit, and as the drab, gray ramp curves like a Waino pitch, your eyes catch a glimpse of the ballpark for the first time that day.

Hochman