The groundskeeper, who keeps the grounds in good shape, stands, hands on hips, and looks around him.  He looks up at the goal posts, which stand straight and true, where the goalkeepers will soon try to keep the opposition from scoring.  His eyes move to the scoreboards at either end of the field, where the scorekeeper keeps track of the goals.
    He grunts a satisfied grunt to himself, and heads off the field.  He meets his friend the shopkeeper who keeps a thriving grocery store in town and keeps even busier by running a refreshment stand in the grandstand.  They only chat for a minute, because the groundskeeper has an appointment to keep with the site manager.
    He glances at his watch, which he knows keeps good time, and quickens his pace.  Music comes from a hallway to the left.  It stops, and is replaced by the tap-tap-tap of the bandleader’s baton on her music stand.  “Keep time, people, keep time,” she calls out, “we’re on in ten minutes.”  The band will keep early spectators entertained until the game begins.  The groundskeeper smiles to himself and keeps going.
    He finally arrives at the manager’s office, but it’s locked.  He looks around; no sign of the manager.  The groundskeeper glances at his watch again, and knocks at the door.  Nothing.  He doesn’t like to be kept waiting, but stands there waiting, nonetheless.  The manager keeps tabs on everything at the stadium, and meets with the groundskeeper before each game for a grounds update.  After ten minutes, the groundskeeper is having trouble keeping his temper, but then he gets a text message from the manager, who apologises and says he won’t make the meeting.
    The groundskeeper is free to go home for the day.  As he makes his way across the parking lot, he looks back.  From here, the grandstand always reminds him of a castle keep.  He smiles, happy that he works here, but happier to be going home, where he keeps house on his own.
    Arriving at the lot where the staff keep their cars, he unlocks his well-kept Beetle and sets off, driving carefully past arriving crowds.  The timekeeper will soon set the game in motion, but the groundskeeper is looking forward to the peace of his small village, where he likes to keep himself to himself.
    His car parked in his driveway, the groundskeeper goes straight to the back of his garden, where he keeps bees.  The hives are still.  Inside them thousands of bees keep up a soft humming that rests the mind of the groundskeeper.  He goes inside, makes himself some supper, which he eats in front of the television while watching a couple of shows that he likes to keep up with.  Then, relaxed and tired from his day, he goes to bed.  As he has done since childhood, he mutters a prayer to himself when his head is on the pillow, but tonight he falls asleep part way through:  “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep....”