the roar that lets him not hear himself

What Orin is actually after under the stadium roar is escape from the sealed self: "a denial of silence," thirty thousand voices merged into one, loud enough that "he literally could not hear himself think" — the only place the self he could never get out of on a tennis court finally goes quiet. The crowd-noise is prized precisely as an anesthetic for interiority, the solipsist's brief holiday from his own head, bought with a wall of other people's undifferentiated sound. (The spectation frame — the crowd as Entertainment, choosing your master — stays entertainment-self's; landed here only as escape-from-self.) [sweep · shared-ground entertainment-self]