“Who is the greatest manager,really,Luque or Mike Gonzalez?”
“I can remember it,”the old man said.“ I'll waken you in time.”
“Que va.”The boy said.“ It is what a man must do.”
“There was nothing ever like them.He hits the longest ball I have ever seen.”
The old man drank his coffee slowly.It was all he would have all day and he knew that he should take it.For a long time now eating had bored him and he never carried a lunch.He had a bottle of water in the bow of the skiff and that was all he needed for the day.
He no longer dreamed of storms,nor of women,nor of great occurrences ,nor of great fish,nor fights,nor contests of strength,nor of his wife.He only dreamed of places now and of the lions on the beach.They played like young cats in the dusk and he loved them as he loved the boy.He never dreamed about the boy.He simply woke,looked out the open door at the moon and unrolled his trousers and put them on. He urinated outside the shack and then went up the road to wake the boy.He was shivering with the morning cold.But he knew he would shiver himself warm and that soon he would be rowing.
“Who gave this to you?”
“You're my alarm clock,”the boy said.
“I like the beer in cans best.”
“I'm not very hungry.”
“Wake up old man,”the boy said and put his hand on one of the old man's knees.