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On a sunny Sunday afternoon, I was getting ready for Sam Schlesinger’s birthday party. It was the most excited I had ever been for a Brewers game. I mean, who wouldn’t be excited? A birthday party at Miller Park was sure to be awesome, even if the Brewers could not win a game. Plus it was a bobble head day. A limited number of free bobble heads of Junior Spivey were given away, so the early birds could watch his oversized head bounce up and down, over and over for hours. A bobble head day made EVERYTHING ten times better. Not only that, but as it was Sam Schlesinger's birthday, he was sure to be able to cook up something fun. Sam was goofy, funny, saw the bright side of things, and ALWAYS had a joke up his sleeve. I had a feeling it was going to be a great day.

Sam was the complete opposite of my dad. My dad never thought anything good was going to happen. He constantly complained about anything he could think of, and worst of all...annoyed everyone near him by constantly bugging them with his unfunny puns. Unfortunately, he was the one taking me to the game.

On the way to Miller Park, with the song Gold Digger by Kanye on the radio, my thoughts were focused on the party that would be taking place shortly. I wondered who else would be there. I wondered what kind of food there would be. But most of all, I wondered if we would arrive early enough for the free bobble heads.

"I hope we get there early enough for the bobble heads!"

Of course my dad HAD to respond with a negative comment.

"Well we wont. If I were you, I wouldn't get my hopes up, because if you get your hopes up, you will be more disappointed when you don't get your bobble head."

The rest of the car ride, he mumbled on about about "stupid kids" and how they only want handouts. As if that weren't enough, he went on and told a story about how in the "old days" people actually had to work to get stuff.

Just my luck. On one of the best days of my life, my dad decides to bother me.

Fortunately, when we got to Miller Park, we were early enough for we were handed two of them, and we went up the escalators and went up to the carpeted floors of the suites, past the old lady in the wheel chair checking to make sure no one trespassed. I never could see why she was appointed as security. How could a granny like her catch someone? They could run right past her. Unless it was some sort of a disguise.

After wandering down the long hallway, I finally found the room of the party, and I immediately joined the throng of kids there for the party, and after grabbing a few Cokes and some wings, we all settled down to watch the game. Surprisingly, the Brewers were winning in no time, with a pair of homeruns in the early innings and that feeling of, “THE BREWERS MIGHT WIN A GAME!” was made better by watching it unfold with all of my friends there. Plus there was unlimited food! And soda. Yum. I was having a great time.

Not long after, Mr. Schlesinger announced that we could participate in THE Klement’s Racing Sausage Race. Anyone who wanted to participate would put their name in a hat, and then they would draw out four names. I put my name in, never expecting that I would actually be chosen. I never win anything. What were the odds that I would win this time? However, when the time came to draw names, I was still nervous, as I still had a slight chance of being picked.

Mr. Schlesinger called us all inside the suite when it was time for the names to be draw. Dramatically, he called off the names one by one.

“Grace Culver!”

“Hayden Brown!”

“Sam Schlesinger!”

“And Sam Meyers!”

Damn…I was actually going to be a racing sausage! But I had competition if I wanted to win the race.

Grace was a small girl. Short and skinny. And not fast. I had no doubt that I could beat her in a race. If I could beat Grace, I could beat Sam, who somehow was slower than Grace. That meant my only competition would be Hayden, the ginger, who I was barely faster than. Now all we had to do was wait for the seventh inning, which was when the race would take place.

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