This time of year

So Isaac Arboles went walking down to the baseball game. The sun was out in the sky and there was a sound of people and the synthetic trumpet. There was green grass and it was on the hillside. The brightness of the sun made walking a zombie-like experience. Isaac could not see but for the lines in the sidewalk to lead up to the baseball stadium.
There was a girl with dark hair and dark eyes and strong fingers. She could grip a sleeve or a pot or a doorknob, Isaac noticed. Before he went into the stadium, Isaac rolled down the hillside, with the grass wet from something, that was not rain. It smelled like the pond by the old man’s house, out where there wasn’t even a road sign, but there was a big antenna that didn’t belong to the old man. And pine trees in rows.
In the stadium there were milling children and their parents talking loud with beers in hand. People wearing red and blue and all of them with sunglasses and pink faces. Isaac wore his straw hat and walked the route around the field. He would get a haircut and make a big time move. There were hotdogs that were free but they were cold. He ate three and drank the little bottles of water. Everyone was looking at the game but no one was watching. He took the dark-haired girl with the dark eyes by the hand and made her stand for the 7th inning stretch. And she gripped his hand. This is a time of year to always look for.