WORCESTER, MA, JUNE 8, 2023 — On a blustery spring night, just a thousand fans trickle into Polar Park to see the Worcester Redsox play the Rochester Red Wings. It’s another minor league baseball game, the “Woosox” floundering, the Red Wings not much better, two teams of dreamers hoping to reach The Show, but still struggling to hit a slider.

Then a half-hour before the first pitch, striding into the half-empty stadium, snapping photos of every moment, comes The World.

I call them that. This month, I’m their “academic director,” arranging lectures and workshops for the Institute for Training and Development under a U.S. State Department grant. The annual program brings ESL teachers to Amherst, MA for a five-week “Study of U.S. Institutes.” I am host, occasional speaker, tour guide, and just so grateful for the gig, getting to know this whipsmart, funny, and curious group — “The World.”

So where does this World call home? The twenty teachers come from twenty countries. Eebaraj from Nepal, Mina from Madagascar, Jacinta from Equatorial Guinea, Masha from Israel, Mpeya from Belgium, Maria — Moldova, Angie — Romania, Chanty — Cambodia, Oxana — Ukraine — I could go on, but it’s time to “all rise for the national anthem.”

Ohhhh, say can you seeeee. . .

In a hectic opening week stateside, The World has seen several slices of America. They have studied the U.S. Constitution, Native-American lore, immigration, Civil Rights, women’s history. . . They have worked in a food bank, and will soon visit a high school, a local newspaper, and spend weekends in Boston and New York. Later, when we take them “out West,” they will visit a national park and attend a rodeo.

But wait, I asked. Can’t we take them to a baseball game?

“Whoever wants to know the heart and mind of America,” historian Jacques Barzun wrote, “had better learn baseball.” But other than Levi from Mexico, The World knows nothing about baseball. Before we board our vans, I have 20 minutes to explain.

It was once “our national pastime,” I begin. Nowadays the national pastime is shopping. But baseball? I gave it all the best years of my life. Here, watch this Youtube video of a 100 mph fastball. And another of great catches. Check out this photo of Honus Wagner. Oh, and the rules.

Nine innings. Three outs. Four balls, three strikes. Here’s a baseball. Pass it around. Feel how rock hard it is, how it begs to be thrown at blinding speeds. You hit the ball, or you swing and miss. You try again. Crack. You run to first —

Time’s up! Vans are leaving. Play ball!

Here at Polar Park, the view from down the left field line is confusing. Numbers, spewed like stock averages, fill the scoreboard. Men in white uniforms step up, swing, miss, spit, swing again. The tiny white speck flies — into the stands, into a glove. Out. Was that an out? What’s an out?

Up comes another man. Swings. Spits. Swings again.

But between innings, America steps to the plate. The Woosox mascot, Woofster, frolics. Commercials scream from the scoreboard. Vendors peddle hot dogs and beer. And this being the minors, silly stunts fill idle moments on the field. Kids compete to throw a ball in a basket. Grown adults in bubble suits bounce like pinballs off each other. Who knows why?

“Is this a great country or what?” I ask.

And The World, charming and curious, seems to agree. They are learning that baseball is as much a spectacle as a sport. Scarfing hot dogs and fries, taking selfies, watching fans and their families, they are studying another “U.S. Institute” — baseball.

Fourth inning. Something is happening on the wide green field! Some man in white hits the white speck l over the distant fence! Other men in white trot in a circle, then slap each other on the butt. Fans go wild! Numbers fill the scoreboard.

AB .AVG Pitch Count

32 .291 52

R H E

Rochester 3 5 1

Worcester 1 3 0

The World doesn’t seem to care. Maria Jose from Chile thinks the next batter, his face projected onscreen, is cute. Megan from Costa Rica marvels at American fandom. “People live sports here. It’s not like that in Costa Rica, just soccer.”

Innings pass with no runs, no hits, just a ball zipping between two men a long way away. More fries, more selfies, more fun. By the seventh inning, with a long drive home, we have seen enough. While walking out, we pause to sing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game,” then stop for souvenirs. Woosox T-shirts will soon be worn worldwide.

“It’s a pretty slow game,” observes Gunnhild from Norway. “It seems like the ball is too hard to hit and too easy to catch. But I like the jargon and how it runs all through the language.”

For the record, the Woosox rallied to win 5-4. For the record, The World may not know the rules, but now they know “the heart and mind of America.”

“So,” said Ika from Indonesia, “back home when they ask, ‘Have you been to America?’ I’ll say ‘Yes!’ And when they ask ‘Did you go to an American baseball game?’ I’ll say, ‘Absolutely!”

Next up — the rodeo out West. How do you say “eee-hah” in Khmer? In Malagasy? In Uzbek? In. . .

TAKE THE WORLD OUT TO THE BALLGAME