Betsy says a friend of hers
went to high school with Kirk Gibson
and that he was stuck up even then.
Debbie says Frank is taking her
to one of those things
where they play two games in one day.
What’s it called, a double bubble?
She makes a face: I can hardly stand one game
much less two.
Jack, the burly security guard says
it’s too damn boring. Everybody
standing around picking their asses.
I sit at my desk
flipping through accounts, pulling overdrafts.
My ass squirms in padded comfort
longing for the bleacher’s hard bench.
Arnold says he likes it better
on tv. Why go to the ballpark,
he asks, and deal with the traffic
and the crowds?
Better on tv?
Get yer red hots heah!
Coke! Iiiiiiice Cooooold Coke!
Crack of bat on ball. Smell
of stale cigars and spilled beer.
Seventh inning stretch.
Cold beer in the sun.
Cold beer in the sun.
I bang my seat
to start up a rally.
Bardball
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