I went to a Marlins game with my brother on Saturday and our childhood broke out. We walked into a cavernous stadium for a MLB game and by the time we left I had wandered into a Little Havana apartment mere blocks from the Orange Bowl circa 1967. It was there that my pre-teen hormones found themselves in the room of a teenage neighbor girl who showed me her ‘With the Beatles’ album and played it on her plastic white General Electric portable record player. I knew and cared nothing about the music, but she was thrilled and I wasn’t moving.
This magical mystery tour came after another Marlins one run loss to Milwaukee and courtesy of a Beatles tribute band named The Fab Four [go figure], who wandered in from the outfield with the same urgency as Hanley chasing down a bloop double. Oh Shea, can’t you see?
I was thankful the stadium lights were turned off for the performance. I’m sure that bright lights can’t be conducive to time travel. It also removed the possibility of my Grinch-like concert mode, grim-faced and arms folded — that’s right, no clapping, no swaying, no sing-alongs here mate — from appearing on the stadium’s big screen. I kinda resent people whose outward appearance conveys their every thought. They’re like human bumper-stickers. I have a similar issue with singing at Church. It feels phony when I do, so I usually don’t. Although exceptions are made for ‘This Little Light of Mine‘ , following Emmaus Retreats.
Speaking of awkwardness. When males sit next to one another at sporting events which feature the popular between innings medication for extroverts, aka The Kiss Cam , the possibility of being targeted invites you to visualize how best to wordlessly communicate heterosexuality. I don’t appreciate real world thoughts intruding on OBP and OPS. Which reminds me. If you are put on the Kiss Cam big screen sitting next to a nubile partner, your options are as limited as Hernán Cortés troops landing in Veracruz in the 16th century. Not puckering up is not an option. The ‘I’d rather not kiss’ position reminds me of the Woody Allen line about the groom sensing there would be trouble in the marriage when the bride’s response to a sexual advance on the wedding night and bed was, “here?”
The Fab Four’s sound was amazing. They make it a point to announce before the performance that none of the music or vocals heard are prerecorded. It turns out that they operate with a Menudo-like concept. The ensemble cast have enough members to produce two distinct Beatles looks, Ed Sullivan and Abbey Road. We had the early sixties version. I’m sure professionals can tell the difference in the music, but I stopped trying to find flaws by Penny Lane, which came early. By Hey Jude, I was disappointed they didn’t go the full 7:11.
And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain,
Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders.
For well you know that it’s a fool who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder.