“C’mon,” Bobby said. “Top of the ninth, game seven of the World Series? At Yankee Stadium? A terrorist attack? That’s not a coincidence. That’s a message.” He looked around at the bedlam. “You’re telling me you want this to be our message?” The players looked at each other, at the stadium. Bobby smiled. “I don’t know about you boys, but I always prefer to go out swinging.”
Girl what
