THE OWNER OF THE BALL


When I was growing up in Lima, Peru, in the middle 1950s, a group of us kids would gather together once in a while to play soccer in the neighborhood park. I noticed that when one of our friends, whom we will call John, got tired and quit, the game would all of a sudden come to an end.

One day I worked up some courage and asked him:

--- John, how come when you leave the game ends?

Undaunted, John answered:

--- Because I am the owner of the ball.


Playing soccer in the neighborhood park.

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