Half-asleep, highly distracted, pacing the curb at 4:50 of the AM, saw a Yankee slip on wet grass and fall on his ass, saw him get halfway through his attempt to stand only to slip again and fall on his face, went rushing over--I forgot he was a Yankee, you see--to see if he was okay.  Got back the most indignantly incredulous parroted “am I alright there, baby“ imaginable, just immaculate Spike From Buffy delivery here, babes, this was the most “out for a walk, bitch” out-spit non-question I’ve ever heard.  why are Yankees like this.  He never told me if he was alright.