There was only one night game a year. On the Fourth of July, the whole sky would brighten up with fireworks giving us just enough light for a game. We played our best then, because I guess we all felt like the Big Leaguers under the lights of some great stadium. Benny felt like that all the time. We all knew he was gonna go on to bigger and better games, because every time we stopped to watch the sky on those nights like regular kids, he was there to call us back. You see, for us, baseball was a game. But for Benjamin Franklin Rodriguez, baseball was life.
'Twas the city of Townsville, and all through the town, all the townsfolk are stirring as snow is falling down. It's bitter and freezing in the dead of December, but there's reason for joy if you can remember. For it's this time of year that our story unfolds, when our hearts are the warmest despite all the cold. Yes, it is Christmas, just two days before, and all through the town none can wait anymore for the timely arrival of one certain fat guy who brings us all goodies from out of the sky. Full of anticipation are these urban folks, none more-so than the students at old Pokey Oaks.
Then he slithered and slunk with a smile most unpleasant around the whole room and he took every present: Pop guns, pampoolas, pantookas, and drums, checkerboards, bissel-binks, popcorn, and plums. But he stuffed them in bags, then the Grinch very nimbly stuffed all the bags, one-by-one, up the chimbley.