Bar Stangled Spanner

We met at the home plate entrance to Raley Field. It was a beautiful sunny day and we talked about yard work. Down on the field, someone was singing the national anthem. She changed key, probably without knowing it, and we winced.

Didn’t mean to. Don’t want to be a snob. But a key change that was clearly not intentional –- there went another one -– it kind of hurts, you know?

Went across the promenade and over to the edge of the seats. A bright green empty baseball field was spread out below. A few dozen people were scattered about the seats behind home plate. A teenaged girl held a microphone just past the foul ball screen.

She finished and there was polite applause and a child took her place and sang the same song. For a child, she was pretty good. For professional sports, well. We’ll see. But full credit for trying!

For half an hour we milled about, the four of us and two of our collective wives. Mostly sat in the warm sun and watched the show. A quartet of teenaged blondes in long black dresses (they were quite good); a few women in middle age, colorfully dressed, belting out the anthem as talented amateurs do; a big man who looked and sounded like Paul Robeson; a young blonde boy with a guitar; a little black girl; a little white girl; a group of tough-looking women in red coats embroidered with their Sweet Adelines group name (they were very good but didn’t utilize the microphone well); and on and on.

Our turn. We crowded around the mic like four very friendly boys sharing a milkshake. Tried to place ourselves to match the response pattern of that type of mic (one of our number, not me, knows about such things). But with our four mouths just inches from the thing, we were pretty much in a group hug. And so we sang the national anthem (David Dickau arrangement for four male voices). I was leaning into the bass and he started to vibrate. I thought he was nervous but later it turned out he was just pushing back at me so I wouldn’t push him over.

We sang it just fine. We better: we practiced it over and over and over and oh. As we do every other song. Unlike every other song, however, I know the melody to that one. All the other tunes we do, I only know the baritone part and couldn’t dredge up the melody to save my life. I’m naturally a bass but I sing baritone because I like that part and have the range. In close harmony barbershop-style arrangements, the baritone part does interesting things. Well, they all do. Depends on the song. Depends on the arranger, really.

So anyway, we think we have a shot, judging by the other people we heard and the surprising volume of the applause we got –- and considering they have thirty or forty home games to cover and only about a hundred people showed up to the auditions. In a few weeks we’ll know; and this summer one of the things I’ve wanted to do for years just might happen when we sing “The Star-Spangled Banner” at a professional baseball game. Batter up!