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Olympic Stadium

My grampa took me to ball games at Olympic Stadium every summer.

A kid never had it so good.

The ballpark was seldom crowded, and we could usually sit wherever we liked.

For less than $4 you could get a bacon cheeseburger, crinkle cut fries, and an icy coke.

All the seating in the park was just plain wooden bleachers, but you could always bring a cushion or a blanket.

The grass was always perfectly manicured,

the infield dirt, well tended,

the outfield walls painted with signs for local businesses

it was a perfect ballpark.

In fact when someone says the word ballpark it is Olympic Stadium that I think of first.

But hardly anybody came to watch the games.

But I hate crowds,

and if it had been as busy as it should have been,

it wouldn’t be as perfect in my memory.

It wouldn’t have seemed so much like our own private ballpark,

it seemed as if  it existed just for us,

and even if no one else appreciated it,

we sure as hell did.

Categories: Poetry
  1. July 5, 2010 at 11:56 pm

    Nice memory! Enjoyed this and all the tastes and sights that went along with it. Bravo!

  2. July 6, 2010 at 12:40 am

    Nothing like memories from our childhood….beautiful words so creatively descriptive. Thanks for sharing 🙂

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