The Old Ball Game

We, myself, me Pops, and me Grandpa Joe, all lived within two blocks of the Shop, the old barn where we worked when we weren't telling tall tales. It wasn't unusual for any one of us to head home for this or that reason during the work day.

Joe left for his house on some errand early one afternoon. About ten minutes later, the phone rang. "Bill, I think Joe's collapsed out on Hancock street," a worried neighbor told him.

Dad bolted from the Shop. He was quickly on Hancock, but could see from well back it wasn't his father laying along the curb. Still, whoever it was ought to be checked. Me Pops went up to him. 

The man on the ground was face up, staring into the clouds. "You okay, fella?" Dad asked him.

"Oh yeah. I'm just watching the ball game," the guy answered. 

"Ah. Well, who's winning?" Me Pops returned.

"I don't know. I just got to my seat." About then an ambulance pulled up. Apparently Anxious Neighbor had, rightly, already called one. Dad had done his duty, so he stepped back for the EMTs to do theirs.