Tuesday, July 10, 2007

I was at Yankee Stadium, which was a packed sand rectangle, set a few feet below street level and ringed by a rock wall around which spectators could scrutinize the action. Pat Canavan was there. The Yankees were doing well. There was a great defensive play, reminiscent of A-Rod's famous throw home over the runner's head. I was standing beside a guy who was alone, mostly minding his own business, but sort of grimacing at various times. Some others to our right began to jeer at him. He ignored them. Then sort of to spite them, I think, he made a strange and ostentatious show of eating a hot dog, eventually letting it hang turgidly from his mouth. One in the other party pulled a gun. The man's eyes widened with alarm, hot dog still inhis mouth. That's all I can remember.