“That means nothing.The great DiMaggio is himself again.”
“Que va.”The boy said.“ It is what a man must do.”
“I don't know,”the boy said.“All I know is that young boys sleep late and hard.”
“Tell me about the baseball,”The boy asked him.
“They lost today,”the boy told him.
“Do you remember when he used to come to the Terrace? I wanted to take him fishing but I was too timid to ask him.Then I asked you to ask him and you were too timid.”
“I know.It was a great mistake.He might have gone with us.Then we would have that for all of our lives.”
“I know.You told me.”
“I know.”
“Age is my alarm clock,”the old man said.“ Why do old men wake so early?Is it to have one longer day?”
They walked down the road to the old man's shack and all along the road,in the dark,barefoot men were moving, carrying the masts of their boats.
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.”
“I must thank him.”
“What have you got?”he asked.