Your Words Against Mine

Like Graham, Lund was shattered by his poor showing in Vegas; his concentration shot, he considered giving up the game altogether. But he started playing in the park again, and the atmosphere revitalized him—there is no purer form of Scrabble than the New York game. On Oct. 1, Lund took his first tournament in more than a year, beating a 26-expert field in Ocean City, N.J. The win elevated him back into the Top 10. "My confidence is up," he says. "I'm back. Yeah. I'm back."

But now they're all more interested in talking about Aldo, a restaurant owner who has been playing for only six months. A couple of days ago Aldo played the game of his life, beating Jimmy Young. "And I always thought it was a sissy game," Aldo says.

"A sissy game!" Richie giggles. "I like that."

He reaches into the bag, shakes it, then bingos with "whiners." Silence now: All the men are staring at the board, reading the play. Out of nowhere a huge dog chases a wounded, fluttering pigeon behind them, under the table, at their feet. "No! No!" his master calls out, but it is too late; the dog has the bird in its teeth.

None of the players moves, none notices the panic or noise or rush to destroy. No one looks up from the game. No one sees the dog trotting off with its prize, or the victim's eyes beginning to dim.