Go Tribe! I have never, do not currently, and will never again feel as American as I did when I attended a Cleveland Indians game this summer.
It was the best feeling EVER. The sun was setting, the evening air was warm--a bit humid--and was filled with the scent of overpriced snack foods and light beer. I was drinking some of that light beer. I quickly became a Cleveland nationalist: "Go Tribe! Go home, Boston!" I envied the women with "Grady's Ladies" jerseys; I, too, wanted to be a part of Mr. Sizemore's harem. I tried to find Red Sox fans in the crowd so I could glare at them, but I didn't see any, so I redirected my nationalist fury toward support for the Indians. I whooped, clapped, and screamed. It was amazing. Go to a baseball game, citizens of the world. You won't regret it.