Thursday, March 11, 2010

The Streak - 64

Again Evan performed well on Saturday afternoon; again his efforts proved futile. Starter Tetsu Fukuda, an offseason pickup from the Hanshin Tigers, got clobbered early. He and his interpreter, Kazuo, stood before a small throng of reporters as the others shuffled grimly about the clubhouse. After each question they would converse at length in Japanese, whereupon Kazuo would smile and respond tersely, sometimes monosyllabically: Yes. Good. I don't know. Maybe. Ask the manager.

Evan and Esteban sat watching in their skivvies.

"You ever hang out with Tetsu?" asked Evan.

Esteban's eyes widened. "We libbed together in Spring training."

"No kidding."

Esteban shook his head and chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"He got a lot of pornography, my frien'."

"No shit?"

"A lot!" Esteban spread his arms as wide as they would go.

"I'll be goddamned," said Evan, peering at the pitcher with renewed interest. He turned again to his neighbor. "What type of porn?"

"Ropes. Cuero. Leather. And what you call?" Esteban made two fists and mimed them shackled.

"Handcuffs?"

"."

"He in the group too."

"The group? What group?"

"Kyle no tell you about the group?"

"The fuck are you talking about?"

"We get together tonight. We gonna meditate."

"You mean with that fucking spiritual guidance counselor?"

Esteban nodded.

"Who's going?"

Esteban enumerated on his fingers. "Me, Kyle, Tetsu. Chrees. Sugar–"

"Sug?!"

"Sí, Sug. Y Marlon."

"Where?"

"Een the hotel. You should come too, Eb–"

Evan put his hand up. "Don't even try, amigo."

Esteban rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Eet's your funeral, Eban."

Evan sat for a moment wondering what was becoming of the world. His world. Then he stood up and stepped into his pants.

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