 During the nights that follow, I stand sentinel-like on the top of the grandstand, watching as my cohorts arrive. Old men walking across a parking lot in a row, in the dark, carrying coiled hoses, looking like the many wheels of a locomotive. Old men who have slipped away from their homes, skulked down their sturdy sidewalks, breathing the cool, grassy after-midnight air. They have left behind their sleeping gray-haired women,