So, it’s Sunday, Sunday, Sunday. Yeah, I know that’s an iconic line to start with, but honestly? Fuck it. We send it.
It’s Sunday Sunday Sunday, and I was cruising the net to see what other buzz was floating around about the game… (it’s not plagiarism if I write it better). I found people online who were still saying it’s for kids, only enjoyable if you have kids, or that they wouldn’t go again, and that it’s basically the Harlem Globetrotters of baseball. Wrong. That just means there are more tickets for the rest of us. But that’s also why it works. It’s loud, ridiculous, theatrical, and openly built for joy. In a world that’s often bleak, Banana Ball doesn’t ask you to act cool. It asks you to have fun.
SUNDAY, SUNDAY, SUNDAY! But it’s not a monster truck rally, even if one uncultured Reddit user compared it that way.
“I found it to be kind of cringey actually. I can’t explain it, but it felt like what I like to call ‘red humor.’ Very monster truck rally energy,” wrote Bilbobaggins1068.
I don’t agree, but whatever — that take only made me want to defend Banana Ball harder than Helm’s Deep. This ain’t no monster truck rally, Bilbo.
Outside Autzen, the party started instantly. People were already going crazy before they even got through the gates. The crew was filming, the entertainment team was prepping, and the party starters had the crowd moving with dance breaks, sing-alongs, and damn good DJing. By the time people started pouring into the stadium, it felt less like entering a game and more like being summoned by the man in the yellow tux.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Banana Ball is a cult of fun. You enjoy every moment of it, no matter what’s happening. You don’t attend Banana Ball so much as surrender to it. That’s what you have to do. It’s the same Banana Ball, just a new sermon with the Party Animals involved.
And once again, I was powerless before Banana Ball. Shit, I think I relapsed on Banana Ball. The funeral party for America’s pastime was back in town, and this time I was there in an official capacity with my camera.
As always, the merch was top tier. I really liked the retro-styled Party Animals shirt, but the big-ticket item everybody wanted was the Oregon green-and-yellow Savannah Bananas jersey. Unfortunately, by the time I got there, they were only selling adult small and youth large. I’m pretty sure I could’ve squeezed into one if I really wanted to make it not look good, but I opted against it.
Then came the Before the Peel parade and show, and I’ll tell you what: the Banana Ball Band and the Party Animals Band called “Party Down” know how to get a party started. Covers of familiar songs, sing-alongs, chant-alongs — they were absolutely killing it. The Party Animal caravan rolled in ready to rock, and the Party Animals, as the home team, led the charge.
It was the second straight sold-out day, and Autzen holds 60,000 seats, so this was no exception. At one point, there was a baby race — babies who could barely crawl making their way across the field to their parents. It was amazing. The winning kid was kicking and screaming the whole time, and the crowd loved every second of it. That’s the point. People call it too boisterous or too loud, but that’s exactly why it brings people together.
Once the game started, they explained the rules, reminded everybody about the two-hour time limit, and made it clear we were there to have as much fun as possible. The music was bumping, the crowd was roaring, and the wave kept going, hitting 15 laps on Sunday — and apparently 22 on Saturday, which broke the record for the longest-standing crowd wave. Meanwhile, the announcer called out “the owner of a black Subaru,” and I thought that was going to be the joke, because there are black Subarus everywhere. But then the jumbotron showed the actual car, and it was even better. “You are receiving a FREE CAR WASH!” the announcer said, and the Man-Nanas dad-bod cheer squad put in work on that poor Subaru, which felt especially perfect for Oregon.
Of course, this is Oregon sports, so everybody was dressed in yellow and green. The Oregon Duck showed up in an all-yellow outfit and came charging in on the famous Oregon Ducks motorcycle. It was absolute madness, just like last time. The Party Animals had bartenders doing tricks, the party starters were out there breaking and hyping the crowd, Pharty was absolutely diabolical, a monkey in sunglasses showed up basking in all his glory to greet fans, and Party Crasher CB Suave — a pro wrestler — got in the mix and flexed like crazy to get the crowd fired up.
There was also a nod to Salem’s own MLB veteran Jed Lowrie, who played 14 seasons and came out looking awesome. University of Oregon legend D’Anthony Thomas showed up as a pinch runner too, and that was sick.
All in all, Banana Ball is on its way to creating 1 billion fans, and I think I’m one for years to come.
At one point, I was standing on the field with my wife, looking out at everything around us, and it got me emotional. The music was still going, the crowd was still buzzing, and for a second it all went silent and hit me at once. We all work so hard, and sometimes in a world that doesn’t give back to us, you have to stop and let yourself feel the moment you’re in, and that’s what I did. I had to stand there, reflect on my journey to this point, and be thankful. Thankful to my support system and to anyone and everyone that has and will take a chance on me.
I was there with my camera in my hand, my wife by my side, and a stadium full of banana-flavored lunatics all looking for some fun on a Sunday in Eugene. And isn’t that what it’s
all about? Taking time with the people you love to experience things that bring joy. Even if it’s something as ridiculous as potassium pandemonium.
A sports team that started in a little stadium in Georgia and turned summer ball into something this big has done something incredible. Jesse Cole, the team behind the team, everybody in front of the cameras and behind them — they’ve built an experience like none other. Somewhere between the chants and the chaos, I found myself with media credentials, a camera, and the same realization I had last time: I didn’t attend Banana Ball, I followed my passion and it delivered me there.
That’s all I ever want to do, honestly — make cool shit with my cameras, experience something I’ve never experienced before, and do it with the people I care about. So, if you want to feel completely out of your mind in the best possible way, if you want something that feels like a fever dream but somehow still counts as a baseball game, Banana Ball is it.
Like I said before, and I’ll say it again: if this is the funeral party for America’s pastime, shit, sign me up for the parade.