Act III, Scene 1
Calmet is sitting on the trainer's table. The trainer, Sciaticus, has just left, leaving him alone with his thoughts and his ever-present copy of "The Fountainhead." Calmet picks up his cell phone to call his agent, Ronencrantz, then stops, and addresses the empty room.
To streak, or not to streak
That is the question
Whether 'tis nobler among the fans
To suffer the slings and arrows of the outrageous sports columnists
Or to wield my glove against a sea of grounders
And by opposing, bobble them: To rest: to sit;
No more; and by a rest to say we end
The backache, and the thousand natural shocks
The hot corner's heir to, 'tis a conundrum
Deftly to be avoided. To rest, to sit;
To sit, perchance to heal; ay, there's the rubdown;
For in that respite what endorsements may come
When I have shrugged off this immortal toil
Must give me pause; there's the mortgage
That makes Money Store pitchmen of Hall of Famers
And makes us taste the difference quality makes.
Exeunt field left.
(Editor's note: This recently discovered work has been variously attributed to William Shakespeare, Laura Lippman, Arthur Hirsch and Yogi Berra.)
Pub Date: 9/19/97