It is best experienced on a nice summer evening in the stadium or on the radio.
And a ballpark frank with 
and onions is very good.
Heck they sent it up on the space shuttle
My ignorant but persistent love for baseball comes from my memories of my Dad listening to games on the radio.
It seemed to me that the crack of the bat, the subdued background roar of the crowd, the occasional murmur from the announcer, all came together like the sounds of locusts, katydids - the aural essence of a summer night, in the 1950s-60s...
My great grandad says the same thing. He told me about mowing the lawn with a push mower with this battery portable radio hanging off the handle listening the the games.
And a ballpark frank with and onions is very good.
Heck they sent it up on the space shuttle