– Football.

Nothing odd about that, a perfectly reasonable observation. Except that he says it in a Russian accent, which is not something we get a lot of around here. Me, I take it in stride, just spit-take my seltzer all over the bar. I’m smooth like that. The guy slaps me on the back while I choke.

– OK?

I nod and wave my hand.

– Fine. Choke. Fine.

I point at the radio.

– Fucking Dolphins.

He shrugs.

– American football. Too slow.

The Fins try to run up the gut three times, get one yard, and punt miserably to their own thirty-five. Pedro comes over and the guy orders a shot of tequila and a Modelo.

– Hockey, very fast, good sport to watch. You like hockey?

– Not really.

– European football, soccer?

– Not really.

– But to play, yes? Americans like to play soccer, but not to watch.

– I guess.

The game comes back on. New England tries a play-action pass down the sideline. It’s complete. The receiver dodges the cornerback and sprints for the goal line. I hang my head, ready for the inevitable New England game-winning touchdown. The Fins’ strong safety hammers the receiver. The ball pops loose into his hands, and he’s running upfield. I jump off my swing and pound my fist on the bar.

– Go, go, go, go!

As he runs the ball all the way back for a touchdown.

– Yeah!

The backpacker guy nods his head, smiles like he approves of the play, takes a sip of his beer.

– What about baseball? You like baseball?

JUST AFTER sunset I walk back up to the north end of the beach.