“Yes it was. It was my fault. I called a bad play. I’ve run it over and over a hundred times in my mind. Every time I come up with the same conclusion. I was under pressure. Two guys were coming after me. I was rushed. I threw to Eddie without really thinking. I should have realized the glare from the streetlight would blind him. I should have chalked the play off and eaten the ball. If I would have done that, Eddie would still be alive today.” He tosses down his drink. Glenda appears with another.

“You can’t expect to account for every eventuality, every parameter, every variation of every parameter.”

“Maybe that’s my problem. At one time, in my…” He stumbles over the words. “…in my younger days, I could.”

She suspects he’s bound and determined to spend the remainder of the day wallowing in self-doubt. “I don’t know what else I can say.”

“I don’t think there’s anything left. It might be better all around if I was by myself.” He holds up his glass. “I’ll see you later. Back at the apartment.”

Silently she nods, gets up and leaves.

T.K. is about to down his drink when a man comes up to him. “You’re T.K. Mann, aren’t you.” The man is out of place here. He’s nattily dressed in a dark green striped jumpsuit. He wears an expensive necklace intricately fashioned out of silver and set with an authentic piece of wood. A double tam covers his head to both ears. His most obvious incongruity is not his apparel but his disregard for proper etiquette, for the unwritten law of solitude to be followed here.

T.K. ignores him. “No autographs,” he mumbles, turning all his attention to the glass in front of him.

The man shakes his head. “That’s not why I’m here. I want to talk to you about yesterday’s game.”

T.K. has to strain to remain polite. He only partially succeeds. “Look, fellah. Some other time. I’m off duty.”

“I think you’ll change your mind when you hear what I have to say.” He puts a card on the table, slides it over to a spot where T.K. can’t help but read it. Ebbet McKay, it says, Legal Staff, The Committee to End Blood Sports. EBS! Damn. Sarah. She must have brought him here.

T.K. flips the card to the edge of the table. “Just because I lost a good friend out there yesterday, that doesn’t make me want to take up the crusade to chuck the whole game of football. Forget it.”