As the familiar organ music begins, thousands of people rise out of their seats. I stand with them, shoving my pencil into my back pocket and punching my other fist in the air for “one, two, three strikes you’re out!”
After years as a seasoned spectator, I’ve consumed my fair share of peanuts, tossing the broken shells under my seat while scribbling 6-4-3 double plays in my scorecard. But I’ve never munched on their counterpart from the song during a game. That’s right, this baseball fanatic has never eaten cracker jacks.
I had to fix that before the 2013 season started and my friends found out. But I couldn’t buy any from the store—what if they saw me?? So I baked my own instead, and three of us polished them off to destroy the evidence before Dad (our family’s biggest baseball fan) came home from work.