Updated: May 18, 2014 at 5:16 pm
DENVER - The first sounds echo through the hallway. They are easily recognizable, the harmonic rhythm of violins and guitars and trumpets.
They are the sounds of mariachi music.
The first sounds lead to a dance party. In a far corner of the baseball clubhouse, one of the Latin players hollers his approval. "Vamos!" he shouts. The sound, and the song, soon ends. The next sound is pure country, warmup music in boots.
These are the sounds you hear inside the Colorado Rockies clubhouse: music, both in English and Spanish; the riiiiip of tape being torn from a new shoebox of cleats; a bat tap-tap-tapping against a locker; the zipper on Wilin Rosario's bag of catcher's equipment; an iPhone beeping the arrival of a text message; Charlie Blackmon telling a story about the power of his beard.
There is the sound of hand-slapping, as friends bid good luck to a teammate, Ryan Wheeler, who has been reassigned to the Triple-A club in Colorado Springs.
They are sounds of a game day.
In a few hours, they will be replaced by the sounds of the national anthem, of vendors hawking beer, hot dogs and peanuts, of walk-up songs and game announcements, of 30,000-plus soaking in another gorgeous night at Coors Field.
Third baseman Nolan Arenado's locker is closest to the desktop computer that blasts music to the 25 players and half-dozen staffers who dress here before games. This proximity grants the third baseman another title: team DJ.
"What about this?" Arenado asks backup catcher Jordan Pacheco. They agree on a blast from the past, the Beastie Boys.
A clock on the north wall shows the time. It shows the wrong time, actually, three hours before the real time. This causes confusion among the ballplayers, who are scheduled to take batting practice at 4:15 p.m. The next sounds are curious players asking for the correct time.
Conversation bubbles all around the clubhouse; some of it joking, some of it serious, some of it baseball, some of it life. All-Star Carlos Gonzalez, an outfielder by trade and a joker by habit, pokes fun of a recent commercial featuring Rosario. (These sounds are in Spanish, but that seems to be the gist of the laughing spree.)
You can't hear Blackmon's beard. But it is loud. "I get a lot of questions about the beard," the outfielder says.
The sounds of laughter erupt on the other side of the clubhouse. Two players are watching a YouTube video.
The sounds of baseball bats, knocking against each other, exit through the doorway to the dugout. They are the familiar sounds of batting practice about to begin.
The first sounds, of music, are shut off. The sounds of a baseball clubhouse go quiet.