The Nut in the Next Seat

I like baseball.
I don’t care to pay $4.00 for a small bottle of water,
But watching the action works for me
Unless I have a psychopath in the next seat.

We are two minutes into the game
And my neighbor is grumbling.
He is distraught-
Something to do with the second-baseman.

This nut case, his name is Jake, pleads
For the fielder to move left.
I’m not sure I understand his reasoning,
But it’s impossible not to recognize his earnestness.

Fortunately the visiting team did not score that inning.
In the third, Jake had some advice for the home team:
With runners at first and third, and one out
It’s time for a delayed double steal.

Our batter hits the first pitch into
An inning-ending double play.
Jake looks at me grief-stricken.
It seems our manager was a ”#$*@ dunderhead”.

A close play at first.
Visitor’s batter is ruled safe.
Jake was ready to charge the field
And offers the umpire his glasses “for the visually impaired”.

Seven innings into the game and I’m a nervous wreck.
Twice Jake has called upon God to intervene.
He has loudly begged our third baseman to move in and the center fielder to move back.
Jake now has laryngitis .

Padres are down 3 to 2 in the bottom of the ninth,
Runner on second, one out.
Relief pitcher throws a wild pitch
And the runner on second hesitates.

Jake is standing on his seat,
Cursing up a storm, in a whisper,
And apologizing with each curse.
“Run, god-dammit run! Sorry”.

I really think the man on second heard Jake
And decided, belatedly, to try for third.
Too late, he doesn’t make it.
Jake looks ripe for a coronary.

He’s in tears.
Why had the stupid son-of-a bitch waited?
Why was he, Jake, destined to route for losers?
“There was no God”, he mouthed!

Seeing our last batter strike out, fearing Jake might strangle himself,
I quietly leave my seat.
Hours later at home, I imagine that Jake is still at the ballpark,
Desperately trying to pull down a roof support beam.