The aromas overwhelmingly fill my nose with honey roasted peanuts, soft, salted pretzels, buttered popcorn, hot dogs with relish, and brats with sauerkraut. I feel the cracks in the plastic green chairs, pinching my legs. The loud roar of “We are the champions” plays overhead as we sit anxiously, waiting for the game to take off.

Baseball dates back to the 18th century, but at that time, it wasn’t known as baseball.  Kids would call it rounders--like rounding the bases--even though they never played with bases. Instead of bases, they used torn cardboard boxes, broken found on city or country grounds. With all these places to play in America, this is when baseball’s popularity grew.

When men looked for work in the 19th century, baseball became popular in bigger cities. In September of 1845, a group of New York City men founded the New York Knickerbocker Baseball Club. Multiple baseball teams of men, formed--and this is often how they found jobs to support their families.

History has proven America’s liking of baseball. It has been played for two centuries, and its popularity is still going strong. I have been to my fair share of the Brewer’s Baseball games, and each one of them I have loved going to--I always have such a great time. I am proud to be an American, because the sport I love--baseball--has an extended, yet riveting history.

The ear-splitting crack echos. He drops the bat, his eyes follow the ball, and his feet move at rapid speeds. He hits the ball out of the park. Other players scramble, while he sprints to home plate. He did it. The game is over. His team won by a landslide. The crowd jumps up and down, scrambling in their seats, stuck from an overwhelming sense of excitement.

Win or lose the game, baseball is my favorite American tradition.That is why I am proud to be an American.