He turns. She’s tall, at least five eleven, only three inches shorter than he is. He likes tall girls, so much so that before checking her out any further, he sneaks a quick look at her feet to see how much of her stature comes from platform heels. None of it, as it turns out. She’s wearing flats. Impressed, he evaluates the rest of her. If she’s a team follower, she’s a cut above any T.K. has run across. There’s a sophisticated patina to her. Her hair is long, sandy brown, piled demurely up over her head in tiny braids. She doesn’t wear makeup, but she doesn’t need it. Her skin has a nice, healthy sheen, blending well with her naturally dark lips. Her slacks, double-breasted coat, patterned shirt and matching tie are mannish, what all women are sporting this season. With her long lines and trim figure she’s one of the few girls who, in T.K.’s opinion, manage to bring a degree of femininity to the fashion.

“Mr. Mann, my brother is quite a fan. Do you suppose…?” Tenuously, she offers him a cocktail napkin and a pen. “It would mean a lot to him.”

“Glad to. Call me T.K.” He takes the napkin and pen. “Miss…?”

“Lauffler. Sarah.”

“What’s your brother’s name, Sarah?”

“Zachary.”

He autographs the napkin, personalizing it to Zachary, and hands it back.

She smiles, her lips moist and slightly parted. “He’ll be tickled to death.”

“So will I if you’ll join me for a drink.”

Again, she smiles. “All right. An eagle’s wing.”

T.K. calls out to Ripper, who has just secured the services of a bartender. “Rip, how ‘bout bringing back a scotch over ice and an eagle’s wing.”

Ripper sees the girl and dips his head to acknowledge the order.

T.K. guides Sarah to the rear of the bar, where the noise level isn’t quite as overpowering. “Are you here with somebody?” he asks.

“No, just an interested observer.” From out of her shoulder bag, she pulls a small, pastel colored pipe of the straight stemmed, curved bowl variety currently in vogue among women. She tamps it full of a sweetish tobacco. “I’m a freelance writer doing an article on Temple Beth Al. I came here to the tournament because I thought I might be able to pick up some colorful sidelights. I’m not having much success,” she confesses. “Everything I know about athletics I learned last night by skimming this.” She shows him a paperback overview of professional sports authored by a top national sportswriter. “I’m completely out of my element here.”