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Sans Giants

Sans Giants.

#3     His Madison Bumgarner jersey stank of Coors.  A wrinkled cigarette hung between his lips.  By the top of the 7th,  he was double fisting beers.. The Giants weren’t going to mount a comeback. He wanted nothing more than to pick a fight. With Royal pride, they pushed their way out of Kauffman Stadium.  A smirk appeared as he flicked the lighter. He thought, what a beautiful game, and lit his cigarette.

#2     His Madison Bumgarner jersey was smeared with mustard and stank of Coors.  A wrinkled cigarette hung between his lips.  He dug dejectedly through all of his pockets for his Zippo lighter and sighed.  He went from standing to slide in the best seat in the house.  Game Two of the 2014 World Series and Giants are on blast by the Royals. 

By the top of the 7th, he was double fisting beers like there was no Game Three. After watching Kansas City crack five runs in the 6th; he demanded a tab behind home plate.  The Royals would be up two games into the series with plenty of momentum after forcing San Francisco to pull 5 pitchers in the sixth.  The Giants weren’t going to mount a comeback.  He wanted nothing more than to pick a fight. He had always been a sore loser, but alcohol made it worse. 

At the end, he made his way out with rowdy patrons from the stands.   Fans were boisterous with Royal pride as they shoved and pushed their way out of Kauffman Stadium.  He paid way too much out of his life savings to have left prematurely.  It would all be well spent if the Giants won their next championship. Otherwise, he would be broke and regretting his spontaneous decision.  His lodgings consisted of the back of his hatchback.  The tickets cost more than he could possibly fathom spending, so he decided to rough it. As he walked out of the stadium he searched one final time for his trusty lighter.  He rummaged past the battered pack of Pall Mall Lights and pulled out a heavy metal square.  A smirk appeared as he flicked the lid of the lighter. He thought, what a beautiful game, and lit his cigarette.

# 1     His Madison Bumgarner jersey was smeared with dried mustard and stank of stale Coors.  A wrinkled cigarette hung between his lips, a slight sneer at the left corner of his mouth where his molars bit the filter in place.  He dug dejectedly through all four of his jean pockets for his battered white Zippo lighter and sighed in disbelief.  He went from standing to a sliding slump back into, by his opinion, the best seat in the house.
Game Two of the 2014 World Series and my Giants are put on blast by the Royals.  Sans Giants. He was shaking with excitement throughout the National Anthem earlier, but by the top of the 7th he was double fisting twelve dollar beers like there would be no Game Three. He normally worked a full sixty minutes to pay for a beer in that range, but after watching Kansas City crack five runs in the 6th; he demanded a tab behind home plate.  The Royals would be up two games into the series with plenty of momentum after forcing San Francisco to pull 5 pitchers in the sixth inning.
    By the time he realized the Giants weren’t going to mount a comeback, he couldn’t stand the sight of the color blue and he wanted nothing more than to pick a fight with the guy in the Marlins jacket next to him. Strictly out of principle.  He had always been a sore loser, but alcohol made it beyond worse.  He fanaticized about slapping a steaming pile of BBQ out of some poor bastard’s hands and giving it a justified stomp.

At the end of the game, he made his way out with the rest of rowdy patrons watching from the stands.   KC fans were boisterous with Royal pride as they shoved and pushed their way out of Kauffman Stadium.  He paid way too much of his life savings to have left the game prematurely and would dip into it further before the series concluded.  It would all be well spent if the Giants won their third championship. Otherwise, he would be broke and regretting his spontaneous decision for the next few years it would take him to recover an economic cushion in his savings account.

His lodging for the past few days consisted of the back of his hatchback Nissan Versa parked outside of the Drury Inn, closest to the stadium.  The tickets cost more than he could possibly fathom spending on one intangible item, so he decided to rough it while he was on this journey.  As he walked out of the stadium he stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the inviting open gate doors and searched one final time for his trusty lighter.  He reached with his right hand into the front pocket of his shirt, rummaged past the battered soft pack of Pall Mall Lights and pulled out a heavy metal square.  A smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth still holding the cigarette in place and as he flicked the lid of the lighter off on his pants and rolled the starter against the denim of his jeans- lighting the wick, he thought, what a beautiful game, and lit his cigarette and inhaled two breaths of nicotine.

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