The barbershop is humming on the next-to-last Saturday before Opening Day.
Mr. Castorini goes to the front of the line and puts in his order.
“Take an inch off the top,” he says. “My wife wants it short and she says my eyebrows are too bushy. Do something about that.”
“No problem, sir,” says Giuseppe as he brushes off the chair. “I will make you look beautiful.”
“Hey,” Mr. Castorini shoots. “I don’t want to look beautiful.”
He scans the waiting faces and asks:
“Did I say anything about wanting to look beautiful?”
“I will make you look handsome,” Giuseppe corrects. “Your wife will love you.”
Mr. Castorini nods.
“I’m taking her to the opera tonight,” he says. “We’re going to see Tosca.”
“That is very nice, sir,” he says.
“I don’t care about the damn opera,” Mr. Castorini fires. “This will keep her happy so I can go to Opening Day with my son. This is the last one at the old ballpark and I’m really looking forward to it.”
“Fabulous,” Giuseppe says. “Chien-Ming Wang is pitching. That should be a beautiful game.”
“Yeah,” Mr. Castorini says. “Let’s get this done so I don’t miss the opera or the ballgame.”
“Of course, sir, right away.”