Candlestick Essay, Research Paper

Candlestick

From the outside, the ominous looking creature gives no hint of the magic occurring inside its masses of stone cold concrete and powerful steel. As my eyes struggle to absorb the magnitude of my surroundings, each individual hair stands up on the back of my neck. My excitement turns to amazement. I am struck by the beautiful purity of the empty expanse of brown and green. This is not the same dirt we all know. It is a deep, rich reddish brown color, neatly raked and spotless. It is as earth tone rich as the carefully clipped grass is bright green — a fantastical stage.

The sea of endless people dressed in orange and black surround the enclosed field. A brown haired little boy wearing an over-sized, backward hat sits on the edge of the chair in front of me. He focuses intently on his Drumstick. Gooey chocolate drips from his chin. Venders selling an array of paraphernalia pace the aisles. A mass of silver dollar size light bulbs display statistics and scores. Neon advertisements compete with the surreal beauty of the surroundings for my attention. The stadium rim sits above hundreds of rows of fans. It creates an unblemished oval view screen, framing the pure evening sky. The perfectly groomed grass looked as though it was cut blade by blade with scissors. The green color runs vibrant throughout the crowd, begging to be admired.

The monotone buzz of the crowd is like a volcano on the verge of eruption. Old men debate about the best player of all time. A proud father shares his knowledge of the game with

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his daughter. Peanuts here! echoes, as a vender tries to pawn his goods. The home plate umpire bellows, Strike Three! Taken by themselves, the sounds within this magical place are so simple; yet when blended together, they create a unique mosaic. The bouquet of beer, hot dogs, and popcorn penetrate my nostrils. The warm taste of hot chocolate tingles on my lips as I cautiously sip it, making sure to savor every drop.

Just minutes ago, a gentle breeze trickled off the San Francisco Bay. Now, the off-shore wind is howling as it whips through the stadium, piercing through jackets and blankets. Papers are thrown in the air, where they dance in front of me like ghosts before skipping back into the night sky. Our nation s flag flaps roughly in the wind making it unrecognizable. The wind is simply a part of the act, another prop in the creature s framework.

Just feet away, close enough to understand these larger-than-life superhero performers are actual human beings. Fans are held back by sticky, old railings that act as bodyguards, extending their arms to hold the audience back from the forbidden. Incredible performers fill the show. Their athletic choreography is poetry in motion. They are sure-footed and bold as lions, yet swift-striding and graceful as deer. The sights and sounds of the experience transform a game into an exhibition. The play of wholesome fantasy, where winners are secondary to just watching the performance.