To a Cubs fan, hearing Harry Caray's voice evokes memories of summertime baseball, not unlike Marcel Proust eating a Madeleine and remembering that he left the oven on back en sa cuisine. To any baseball fan, actually, hearing the disembodied voice of the late Harry Caray stimulates all our senses: we can already feel the warm breeze in the ballparks, smell the peanuts roasting in the concourse, and taste the hot dogs.
Well, maybe the reason I can taste the hot dog is that I ate one on Saturday and it's still repeating on me. But you get the idea. Baseball's on its way!