The muscles in my young legs start to burn
as we walk up the stadium stairs.
I almost trip over a man's leg sticking out in the aisle.
I follow up the leg with my eyes till I see a fat man
whose lap is filled with snacks. The aroma wafts to my nostrils.
Hot dogs with mustard, nachos with jalapenos, a cinnamon-
covered pretzel.
He drips mustard from his hot dog onto his white shirt
and shuffles his feet, crushing peanut shells on the cement floor.
I hear a loud "Crack," and people start to stand up all around.
We turn and grab onto the rusted, metal handrail,
just in time to see the white sphere with red laces
"Crash" into the fat man's lap knocking over all his snacks.
He will be sad and probably pathetic
about the losing his food.
"Play ball!"