 
        from FUGUE FOR AN OCTOBER AGE                      THE STEELERS 10
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        maybe by sucking in my gut.  What do you think of that?"
             "Sounds okay, I guess."
             As the final period wears on, people begin to leave, presumably
        to finish the game on their car radios.  The death blow comes in the
        last few minutes, another Oiler field goal.  The crowds surge toward
        the exits, a sullen, silent sea.
             "I'll bet you think I'm pretty far out," he says as we pick our
        way through the parking lot.  "I'll  bet  you even think I'm kind of
        nuts. But don't you see, I don't want to just stand on the sidelines
        and complain.  I want to get out there and do something."
             "Certainly can't fault you for that," I say.
             When we reach the car, it is covered with snow.  We  clean  off
        the windows with our ponchoes and climb inside.  I thank him for the
        game and he apologizes because the Steelers lost.   He manuevers the
        car  through  the  exhaust fumes to the snarl of traffic on the exit
        ramp and we return home as we had come, on the interstate.



      
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