A murky cavernous atmosphere seems to exist in “April Northeast Baseball” or “ANB”. I wrote earlier that it reminds me of a wind tunnel, a sort of dark, spiraling tube that maybe a group of scientists and military dudes would carry heavy backpacks through, expecting to be transported to another time or place.
The murkiness can sometimes bleed out in all directions, with the players swinging a tad early or late, or hitting balls directly at opposing fielders. With the murkiness being front and center, it is easy to look at two-game losing streaks as perhaps the wind tunnel collapsing; the cavernous tube getting smaller as the scientists and military dudes get farther inside.
CitiField is criss-crossed with deep and billowy shadows in The ANB. The TV casts a blue pall. Why is The ANB always blue?
Comeback-capping grand slams make the murkiness more palatable. Especially weird high-ball-chopping-Cespedes grand slams. What was the deal with that swing? It was a captivating athletic moment in an already captivating ballgame. Cespedes seemed to somehow drag the bat through the air in slow motion and fast motion simultaneously.
I think the swing ripped a hole inside the wind tunnel, upending gravity for the scientists and military dudes. Their backpacks and gear jarred loose in the whirling scrum.