If you’re not the richest fan sitting in the luxury boxes at the sporting venues, then you know me well. I’m the “unimportant” bleacher seat.
My official name is something like, “Section G4 Row 23 Seat 14.”
I’m also known as “nose-bleed.”
I’m not next to the aisle, not near an exit, and the bathroom is a seven-minute trek away.
I reside in constant shade despite the seasons of the year. I’m always in the dark with my neighbors, Seat 13 and Seat 15.
The shade is provided by the stadium around me. That and the five-foot wide structural support two rows in front of me that blocks 90 percent of the playing field from my view.
I’m reserved for that fan that either waited to long before paying for the price of admission or for the one that did not have the funds to pay for an unobstructed view.
It has been said that I only exist to provide ownership with a few extra dollars.
For the most part, I live a lonely life, as my location guarantees that my supposed occupant will spend most of the game wandering the stadium in search of another empty seat that has a view of the playing field. It seems that I have very good view of graffiti and used gum stuck to the back of a concrete column.
Even though I have been engineered and tested for a specific purpose, rarely does a rear end find my surface. It seems as if I am never used as a seat but as an end table or a coat rack.
The fans have no regard for my intended purpose, as they drop food stuff on me or spill beverages on me. More times than not, I’ll be used as a step stool as the fans raise their voices in a cheer.
It’s always the feet, never the rump.
I thank the maintenance crew; at least they’ll hose me down to remove the accumulated crud from me in preparation for the next sporting event.
From time to time, I will cradle a body. Sometimes a parent will place their child in my arms as my shady place can provide the little ones a place of peace.
Other times I will give that fan that over-did his beverages through the first half of a game a place to sleep it off through the second half.
There are others out there like me. We’re found in stadiums and coliseums around the world, catering to sports like rugby, soccer, baseball, and football, just to name a few.
The fans don’t hear us. They don’t know our angst, nor do they care.
The placard that I have riveted to me is permanent. It states my name, Row 23 Seat 14.
I will dwell in this “unimportant” position till time ends or until the stadium is demolished.
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