Over at Soxaholix Mr. Brachen dug up a link to a book that has a lot to do with listening to baseball on the radio. The excerpt, which is
is evocative, although the writing style is a bit too self-conscious for my taste.
Listening was ecstasy, it was bliss, and it was more: a fanaticism so consuming that all other sounds faded away. I ate sunflower seeds during the games, and I could get so absorbed in a close contest that I went through entire sacks of seeds at high speed, my hand a blur as it moved from the bowl of fresh seeds, to my mouth, and then to the bowl for spent shells, which got so full that eventually the huge saliva-dampened brown pile toppled over the rim spilling along my blue quilt, soaking it with wet, brackish blotches that I noticed only after the Red Sox were safe.
But then what do I know, I am just a hack writing mercilessly about stuff I don't know about.