Lawrence Auster wrote about a game at Yankee Stadium four years ago:
“The very loud rock music played during the game made it a very unpleasant experience, not something I would want to repeat. They even play loud music during the innings, as well as between innings. It’s an assault on one’s senses and mind and simply destroys the experience and integrity of the game.”
I cannot stand what professional baseball is today. The endless hype is utterly alien to me. The mere fact that ballparks now inflict rock “music” on their customers is more than enough to keep me away.
But there was a time when it was different. One of my uncles played amateur baseball in 1930 for the love of the game. I inherited the love of baseball from my parents, who enjoyed it because it provides countless opportunities for talented play and good sportsmanship. They took me to baseball games at Sportsman’s Park, a classic old ballpark in St. Louis where talented play, good sportsmanship, a blue sky, green grass, and players dressed in attractive, manly uniforms (not the jammies that they wear today) were all we needed for a pleasant, rewarding afternoon. Rock “music” would have been an outrageous intrusion and distraction. It cheapens and detracts from the game.
For half a century, baseball in St. Louis was chronicled by four men: Radio announcers Jack Buck and Harry Caray and sportswriters Bob Burnes and Bob Broeg. All of them were Old School. All of them were highly disciplined, knowledgeable, literate, and articulate. They understood form, balance, proportion, and perspective in broadcasting and in writing. Every summer it was a joy to listen to their voices on radio and read their articles and commentary in two daily newspapers. When they died, a century of baseball knowledge and lore vanished with them. If they were alive today, they surely would consider the noise and hype an outrageous distraction from the game they loved.