The 'Man in the Cardinals Jacket' is the story of us all

He showed up the ballgame dressed for success. But success was not his, so he went elsewhere.

A man put on a tailored jacket and went to a ballgame. He wore a fedora, as gentlemen are wont to do. He believed his team would win, as gentlemen are wont to do. The October air was brisk. Fall colors coursed through the leaves of the trees wreathing the parkways. He had an apéritif. He watched some base-ball with a fellow boulevardier. He was -- perhaps not happy, since happiness is but a novelist's flourish -- but he was ... content?

The visiting nine were winning. Surely they would win. He would go to a jazz club later. The velvet rope would recoil at the sound of his two-tone leather Burberry wingtips negotiating the sidewalk. Alas, also alack ... 

They lost. So he left, his assumptions orphaned underfoot like the peanut shells and wayward urine of strangers.

(Image: @SouvenirCity)

One drinks to advance revelry. One drinks to while away the time in hub airports. One drinks to console, to solace. The Man in the Cardinals Jacket drank, and then he went to the somewhere else that was nowhere else. 

The stars suspended above in mute heaven did not notice him. They notice none of us.