Baseball immersion, or, how I started talking in my sleep: Game 6 of 22+

Summary:
Score: Tigers 1 Cleveland 0
Temperature: 86 o
Attendance: 39,178
Winner of the Dunkin'Donuts Race: Biggie Bagel

Baseball immersion is doing odd things to me. Not only I am starting to be able to spot ground rule doubles, I am, apparently, talking in my sleep about my favorite player. It's probably good that I have a small baseball hiatus coming up. This weekend we went to four games: two Tigers and two Woodslee Orioles games. It's strange to watch the same sport in such different venues. The Woodslee Park is one of my favourite places since you're watching baseball in an idyllic small park near cornfields and a rural elementary school and a nice high steepled church. Everyone seems to know each other; kids show up on bikes to watch; people stop by while walking their dogs. Everyone seems to know each others' dogs too. Thankfully, at Woodslee, no one calls their friends to wave at each other from across the park.
In my summer of baseball immersion, these Woodslee games offered another dimension. From where we usually sit in Comerica, the actual game is a silent one: players move around the field without a sound other than a crack of a bat or a thwap of a catch. Watching baseball in a park like Woodslee, you hear all sorts of things: some expected, some unexpected. Some I could transcribe here, some, I would not. But, of course, in the stands you don't hear it all but it's something. Today I was watching the Tigers and was wondering about the chatter and talk that was happening on the field and in the dugouts. There is a kind of mystique about it all: what exactly are they talking about? Who knows, maybe they're all on cellphones in the dugouts saying, "Oh yeah, I see you waving. You're wearing a blue shirt, aren't you. You're getting whacked by a big foam finger? Good. Turn off your phone and watch the game." Highly unlikely but still possible.