A Sporting Event

To have a good afternoon's sporting event, all you need is two willing teams, a bat, a ball, and a number of donkeys. Collecting the donkeys and their owners from the isolated farms in the surrounding hills can take a while, but it's all worth it in the end. You need twelve or so, plus a handy supply of carrots, to be sure that you don't run out of willing equine sportsters during a game of Burro Béisbol. Lenox, who by virtue of knowing nothing about either baseball or indeed donkeys, acts as the referee. The two teams are assembled, the Red Cross ambulance is bought a cold beer and the whistle - actually an old trumpet - is blown.
The rules, as explained to the referee, are easy enough: don't ambulate anywhere unless you are seated on a donkey. Neither the hitter, the catchers or the fielders can move unless they are mounted on what quickly turns out to be a most unwilling ride. As the donkeys stand stock still, take off in the wrong direction or throw their riders, the score is professionally tallied and the game is eventually declared: Donkeys one, Humans nothing (well, apart from a stripped finger and a bruised ass).

The top photo is from 1999. Not sure about the other. We played Burro Béisbol during the Mojácar fiestas for around eight years during the nineties.
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