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ST. LOUIS — Did you feel that? The foundation of our civilization and the basis of everything we know just shifted.

Knox Korte and Mason Goestenkors, from Highland, are both 11. They both play baseball — by coincidence, they both play shortstop and center field, though for different teams. Both, naturally, are fans of the Ó£ÌÒÊÓƵ Cardinals.

Friday, they came to Busch Stadium to watch the Savannah Bananas play.

They were asked who they would rather play for when they grow up: the Cardinals or the Savannah Bananas? And that was what was Earth-shattering.

"Bananas," Knox said.

"Definitely," said Mason.

Such sentiments used to be sacrilege here, just a few yards from Busch Stadium. Maybe blasphemy. They'd better have a good reason.

"It looks fun," Knox said.

"They don't really care about the score. They just want to entertain. It's really fun watching them," Mason said.

The Savannah Bananas play a fan-friendly game that resembles baseball, but isn't quite baseball. They call it Banana Ball.

If a fan catches a foul ball, it's an out. If a player attempts to bunt, he's thrown out of the game. Batters can steal first base at any time. Players routinely break out into choreographed dance routines for no apparent reason. Outfielders sometimes perform backflips before catching a fly ball.

"They're the Harlem Globetrotters of baseball. They're still insanely talented players, but they bring a new level of fun to the game," said Greg Laine, of Soulard.

Laine was among a few thousand fans who assembled at the Together Credit Union Plaza as much as five hours before Friday's sold-out game pitting the Bananas against their archrival (and for a few years, their only rival), the Party Animals.

Saturday's game is also sold out. The tickets were gone in a matter of hours. The games, originally scheduled for April, were rained out — which, if possible, only raised anticipation for the weekend's games.

Interest in the games was so high that the parking decks closest to the stadium charged more for the Bananas games, $50, than the $40 they typically charge for a Cardinals game.

Scott Ramsey came to the game from outside Greenville, South Carolina, though he admits he was already going to be in Ó£ÌÒÊÓƵ, his hometown, anyway.

Ramsey lives near Clemson University, where the Bananas sold out the 80,000-seat football stadium, he said.

The Bananas are a social-media phenomenon. They started drawing attention on TikTok, Facebook and YouTube, and have grown so big that they have had a game broadcast on ESPN.

As the fan base has grown, it has become passionate. Everyone wants to get in on the silly fun.

Merchandise tents, staffed by dozens of local residents, did a brisk and unceasing business before the game. Laine bought a Banana Nation flag and wore it as a cape. He'll also hang it from his balcony, he said.

The merchandise tents weren't just hawking Bananas items. A smaller number of tents sold souvenirs for the weekend's opponents, the Party Animals (the Bananas also play the Firefighters and the Texas Tailgaters).

Mark Prost, of Perryville, Missouri, wore a Party Animals shirt and had bought some Party Animals merchandise. They're his favorite Banana Ball team.

"Better logo. Cooler name. Better jerseys," he said.

"I'll be rooting for them aggressively, despite what the people around me think."

His wife, Samantha, knew who he was talking about. She was wearing a Savannah Bananas shirt.

"It is an electric experience, and you can't go wrong with the OGs. You have to have someone to root against, and that's the Party Animals. But you have to root for the good guys," she said.

Teresa Knese, of Crestwood, and her daughter Emily Walworth, of Affton, were decked nearly head to toe in Bananas gear: headbands featuring a stuffed banana, banana barrettes, banana earrings, Savannah Bananas T-shirts, and Knese wore yellow flip-flops.

They previously ordered Savannah Banana T-shirts from a Chinese company called Shein. When the shirts arrived, the bananas on the front were an unappetizing shade of brown.

"It was so funny. We were going to be the Rotten Bananas," Walworth said.

If the Banana experience is all about entertaining the fans, then the hours-long show pregame show — they call it the Greatest Show in Sports — turned the idea up to 11.

It was hours of barely controlled mayhem. Bananas are thrown into the crowd. Players from both teams sign autographs and pose for pictures. A brass band plays, accompanied by chunky male cheerleaders (the Dad Bod Cheer Squad) and a singer wearing a yellow princess dress and tiara. A guy who looks like Mr. T leads a conga line through the crowd. A couple of Party Animals players mix drinks while juggling.

At one point, some of the cheerleaders sing a barbershop quartet version of the Bananas Nation National Anthem: "I Wish I Was an Oscar Mayer Wiener."

And it was all in the sun on a 90-degree day.

But that's just the hype. The most important part of the Banana Experience is the game, and all the silliness to be found there.

Outfielders caught fly balls while twisting or jumping or doing backflips. Infielders snagged ground balls through their legs or tossed the ball to first base behind their backs. Clips of music played constantly, while players sometimes danced on the dugouts.

The selection of songs seemed designed to distract the batter: "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas," "YMCA," "Baby Shark" and Rebecca Black's "Friday."

Between innings, the entertainment amplitude only increased. The first base and right field seats faced off against third base and left field in a sing-off. Instead of a race between Clydesdales, a guy name Clyde (or perhaps Claude) raced a guy named Dale from the outfield to home plate, stopping on the infield to carry a woman on their back the rest of the way.

And a baby race, featuring babies slowly crawling, and mostly not crawling, toward their mothers on the other side of a finish line, turned out to be the most adorable thing ever.

Amber Kratzer and her family made the three-hour drive from southeast Iowa to come to the game.

"The kids are huge fans of the Savannah Bananas. Anything that my kids are fans of, I'm a fan of," she said.

Her 14-year-old daughter, Taylor, is a fan of one Banana in particular.

"I want to see KJ hit a home run," she said, referring to shortstop Kyle Jackson. "I think he's a really good infielder."

Her mother said, "It doesn't hurt that he's easy on the eyes, right, Taylor?"