The score is posted at the corner of Powell and O'Farrell, across from Omar Khayyam's Restaurant. The bells of the cable cars clang, the cable itself hums underfoot, and the man says, pointing, "Formerly I put the speaker inside so it didn't radiate outside, where if you cared to hear the progress you stepped inside, but I now put it up outside and let it radiate for somebody else."
He gives a good shine—25�—and he says, "Come back, hear?"
Felipe Alou walks, steals second base, and a small crowd forms to listen. Bressoud strikes out.
A passer-by asserts that he has been a lifelong Yankee fan, that he would not know whom to root for in the event of a World Series between the Yankees and the Giants.
Hegan grounds out.
The shoeshine shop is sheltered from the wind by Macy's. The proprietor of the shop is a Missourian, but he has also lived in Indianapolis and Minneapolis. He has shined shoes in San Francisco since 1943. He was an admirer of the San Francisco Seals, but he now wholly accepts the Giants, and he sighs with disappointment when McCormick grounds out to end the inning.
Radiating outside, as he chalks the new zero, is a message from the Golden West Radio Network on behalf of Folger's Coffee, carefully selected, famous, fresh-brewed real coffee that makes you want to wake up and live. The crowd, which had begun to form around the loudspeaker in the hope of a rally, disperses.
"Come back, hear?" says the shoe-shine man.
Confidentially speaking," said the man in the house near Twin Peaks, "this confounded baseball season has cost me a lot of time. You see, I work at home. I must concentrate on what I'm doing. I tell myself. 'Don't touch that dial,' but it's like a drug, I'm hooked."