He stood about 6'5", was skinny, balding and had only one top front tooth. He must've been in his late 70's or early 80's. His skin was discolored from living on the street.
I’d been seeing him panhandling for years on O’Farrell near Macy’s. Good spot. The traffic backs up there most of the day. I occasionally give him a dollar. It’s good Karma. Besides, in my business, the words “there but for the grace of god go I” are a daily truth. I know I’m one accident, one piece of bad luck, from joining the old dude.
On this evening, I almost didn’t tip him. I’d been driving for seven hours. My back ached, my knees ached, my ankles were sore and I was exhausted. It seemed like too much trouble to reach for my one-dollar stash. Then, he glanced at me with a look that was both desperate and somehow proud, like he was trying to be cool.
I pulled out the buck and stuck it out the window. He saw it and his face lit up as he came toward me. He broke into a big smile and started talking to me like I was his best buddy. Maybe I was the only one who ever tipped him.
“Homebody almost had the no-hitter!” he exclaimed joyfully.
It took me a second to understand.
“Oh yeah - the Giants - Cain.”
“Yeah - should’ve had it too. ”
“Didn’t see it”
“Lucky hit ... damn good we signed him.”
“Damn right. Can't think of a better use for $130 million.”
“Damn straight!”
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