by James Finn Garner
A hundred bucks for an obstructed seat
Cold in the shadow, then blistering heat
The pushy stat-head who needs a shower
Nine inning games that last six hours
Fans in my row with tiny bladders
The $30 million .240 batter
Ear-blistering rock soundtrack
Fourteen dollar Cracker Jacks
Security lines that go on for days
Video reviews, endless delays
Wasted bankers on company plastic
Knucklehead experts so bombastic
Lazy players, greedy owners
Chatterboxes, needy loners
Pina colada spilled down my back–
Goddamnit, I want baseball back!
