I like to go to a major league baseball game once a year or so, because of the lights, the crowd, the green field, the popcorn, the balmy summer weather, the Jumbotron, the Bell that rings when we score a home run or win a game, the bios of the players, and the snippets of music. The game itself is a nice extra.

But the stadium doesn’t allow bags. I always have a big bag with me, because I lose things if they’re not nailed down and I like to carry a bunch of things with me. So when I planned to go to a game yesterday, I carefully and slowly attached all the necessary possessions to myself.

The hat: on my head. The glasses: Perched on the hat. The cover-up, to keep me from getting burned: Tied around my waist. Keys? Clipped to my belt loop. Earbuds case? Clipped to my other belt loop. Inhaler and fountain pen? In a little pouch with a ring on it, attached to the clip of my earbuds case. Wallet? It has a ribbon on it, with a clip at the end, so I attached the ribbon to my key ring and shoved the wallet into my pocket. The extra phone battery: In my back pocket. The only thing that wasn’t attached to something was my phone, which I had to keep taking out because it had my tickets on it, because I paid for my popcorn with it, and because people were texting me from time to time. I couldn’t find the lanyard I used to have for my phone, so it had to stay unleashed.

All I had to keep track of, then, was the phone. This was not easy. I kept shoving it in a different pocket, so from time I time I was frantically patting myself. I always found it, though.

I did almost lose the cover-up, which started to un-knot itself, and I didn’t notice until it was below my hips. I almost lost the wallet, too, which fell out of my pocket and was dangling from the key ring. I checked the wallet at that point, and nothing seemed to be missing, though I couldn’t remember whether I had left my credit card at my house.

The sun was strong. The lights, colors, and music were wonderful, and the crowd was huge. It was a good baseball game, though tied until the 8th inning when the Phillies finally went ahead by two runs. Then in the top of ninth, our remarkable pitcher Zack Wheeler came back up from the dugout and everyone started screaming and shouting because baseball is like that: Torpid to the extreme, until suddenly someone does something statistically unusual.

But even I was excited that Zack Wheeler was pitching a complete game. Noble Wheeler! I briefly considered buying myself a jersey with his name on it, but I would just lose it, and they’re expensive.

Wheeler retired the side with dispatch, the Phillies won, and I went home and found my credit card in my house. I hadn’t lost anything for a change, and Wheeler was named to the All-Star team. A win all around.