Aggies, steelies, bowlers, shooters, and pitchers.
The currency of our early youth.
Wealth, social status, and earning potential forecast
by one's skill and the size of the pouch.
The venue brown and hard, packed and polished for decades
by thousands of small feet. Not one blade of grass.
The courts for circles and pots along the edge,
under Giant Leaf Maples, and among their roots.
Three times a day, five days a week, nine months a year
the players gathered. A ritual using insults, standings and
wealth brought contestants together. Early matches scouted
by cautious players. Games always ended by the recess bell.
No steelies; knuckles on the ground; no stickers, and more.
Each contest customized by the combatants;
to emphasize strengths and hide weaknesses.
A small-fry metaphor for entrepreneur.
"Going for all the marbles."
"Losing one's marbles."
"… mouth full of marbles."
No essay is complete without related clichés.
Although proper attribution is a tough shot!