Javier didn’t climb out of bed until nearly noon. He was up late trying to get the Yankees a win in Seattle.
“I wasn’t much help,” he admitted. “I was loud, but I guess they were just too far away to hear me. Maybe my voice will carry better tonight or maybe that ball Robbie hit in the eighth will carry over the wall.”
Javier lugged those hopes out of his Walton Avenue apartment. Then he stopped by and talked to the guys playing dominoes in Joyce Kilmer Park.
“Tough game last night,” Javier shot.
They all agreed.
“I gotta go get some breakfast,” Javier said.
“Isn’t it a little late for breakfast?” someone asked.
“Yeah,” someone else said. “This is time for brunch.”
“I ain’t much of a brunch guy,” Javier said. “I’ll probably get a grilled cheese sandwich and have them throw an egg on it. Is that close enough?”
“That’s about as close to brunch as the Yankees were to winning that game last night,” someone said.
“That’ll have to do for now,” Javier said. “But I want a win tonight.”