“The great Sisler's father was never poor and he,the father,was playing in the big leagues when he was my age.”
The boy went out.They had eaten with no light on the table and the old man took off his trousers and went to bed in the dark.He rolled his trousers up to make a pillow ,putting the newspaper inside them.He rolled himself in the blanket and slept on the other old newspapers that covered the springs of the bed.
“There was nothing ever like them.He hits the longest ball I have ever seen.”
“I think they are equal.”
“Supper,”said the boy.“ We're going to have supper.”
“I know.But this is in bottles,Hatuey beer,and I take back the bottles.”
“Because he came here the most times,”the old man said.“If Durocher had continued to come here each year your father would think him the greatest manager.”
“Good luck old man.”
“I've been asking you to,”the boy told him gently.“I have not wished to open the container until you were ready.”“I'm ready now,”the old man said.“ I only needed time to wash.”
“Sleep well old man.”
The old man went out the door and the boy came after him.He was sleepy and the old man put his arms across his shoulders and said,“I am sorry.”
“Que va,”the boy said.“ There are many good fishermen and some great ones.But there is only you.”