The hand of fate had dipped into the ragbag of humanity.

In all my years of New York cab riding I have yet to find the colorful, philosophical cabdriver that keeps popping up on the late movies.

In God we trust; all others pay cash.

Being a White Sox fan meant measuring victory in terms of defeat. A 6-5 defeat was a good day. A big rally was Wally Moses doubling down the right- field line.

Manhattan cabs are born old.

Randy lay there like a slug. It was his only defense.

I had woven a tapestry of obscenity that as far as I know is still hanging in space over Lake Michigan.