Gil: "Cliff... this is Gil... I do terribly hope this isn't a bad time-"
Cliff: "Of course not, why would that be the case?"
Gil: "You know quite well why it would be, you old sod! In any case, I know that the text mesage... or are they called Facebooks? I don't know. Nevertheless, I know that messages of that type have become de rigueur for exchanges such as this, but for the post-season, I rather felt that that was not a gesture that measured up to the occasion."
Cliff: "Ah yes, I see what you mean. Brings to mind an old roommate I had in grammar school, the stumblebum ended up spending his gap year touring extensively... throughout the Channel Islands."
Gil: "Imagine that. Let me guess, was he Welsh?"
Cliff: "If I said he was from the West Midlands would you ask for a proportional credit?"
Gil: "Lest I forget why I called... I did think that you were superb today. I didn't think that the Rays had any chance of resolving the quandary you would set before them and that certainly proved true. It recalled for me a well-wrought, or perhaps a too crude if you catch my drift, ironic dialogue. Perhaps... oh, something done by Galileo. It wasn't subtle, but subtly was not what was called for."
Cliff: "That's very kind, though we both know Galileo's pen, his gift for delicacy has been lost for those of us unfortunate enough to be born after Brecht."
Gil: "Well, regarding that trouble, of course much more could be said."
Cliff: "Quite true."
Gil: "I've been meaning to ask you. Have you kept much in touch with your former compatriots in the Evergreen State?"
Cliff: "Only as much as May stays in stationary with April."
Gil: "That surprises me to hear you speak of them so cooly."
Cliff: "Wasn't it Housman who said, 'anyone who feels they have loved more than once has never truly loved at all'?"
Gil: "Sounds right, but I think that might be Auden... but I think I follow."
Cliff: "Yes, sometimes I wonder -" (voice catches)
Gil: "You needn't finish... the truest part of the Old Testament for me remains the profound sense that Man's fate, all to often, is a kind of profound estrangement. A wandering in search of home."
Cliff: "Quite. And I'm sure that many will read my behavior as being primarily fiduciary, but a major heuristic guiding my decision this winter will be a search, not for riches, but for home."
Gil: "If only Arkansas had a team."
Cliff:"That will be for the issue of my son, or maybe his son, to enjoy."
Gil: "To the future! (pause) Christ, I sound like Voltaire, or worse, when saying that!"
Cliff: "I can only drink from that vintage by way of Isaiah Berlin, but maybe that hasn't always served me well."
Gil: "Clifton Phifer Lee wouldn't be Clifton Phifer Lee without that touch of the choleric."
Cliff: "I think you mean phlegmatic. But in any case, I must be going. I've gotten on this kick... actually Michael Young and Ron Washington hooked me on this. Each evening, when I've retired to my bedchamber and placed the stocking cap on my head, I listen to a bit of Wagner, while looking over Tennyson's better lines. A bit cringe-worthy, but I do feel we need more of the heroic in our lives, especially for those of us still out there slaying dragons."
Gil: "You bastard."
Cliff: "I didn't mean it like that, old boy."
Gil: "I know... but damn this. Damn... me."
(Hangs up)