“In the American League it is the Yankees as I said,”the old man said happily.
“I can remember it,”the old man said.“ I'll waken you in time.”
“We'll put the gear in the boat and then get some.”
The boy had brought them in a two-decker metal container from the Terrace.The two sets of knives and forks and spoons were in his pocket with a paper-napkin wrapped around each set.
“They lost today,”the boy told him.
“I have,”the old man said getting up and taking the newspaper and folding it.Then he started to fold the blanket.“Keep the blanket around you,”the boy said.You'll not fish without eating while I'm alive.
“He sent two beers.”
The door of the house where the boy lived was unlocked and he opened it and walked in quietly with his bare feet.The boy was asleep on a cot in the first room and the old man could see him clearly with the light that came in from the dying moon.He took hold of one foot gently and held it until the boy woke and turned and looked at him.The old man nodded and the boy took his trousers from the chair by the bed and, sitting on the bed,pulled them on.
“I must give him something more than the belly meat then.He is very thoughtful for us.”
“Who is the greatest manager,really,Luque or Mike Gonzalez?”
“No.I know others better.”