“So what’s it going to be, fellas? Costello, I’m going to New York with you. We need ourselves a Person of the Year.”

“You!”

“Yeah, I’m the guy steering this committee. And if we’re not careful about nipping this in the bud, we’ll be here close to Christmas. You got any bright ideas, squirt?”

“Don’t you get it? You!”

“I got a name, shortstop.”

“You! That’s our Person of the Year!”

“What the hell did I do?”

“You!”

“You!”

“Yes, that’s it!”

“I was only doing what you did.”

“But that’s just it!”

“We can’t have two Persons of the Year. We had three Good Samaritans last year.”

“Which is why we settle upon you!'”

“That’s a conflict of interest.”

“No, it isn’t. Let me explain. The reader picks up the cover and sees the word ‘You.'”

“Which means the manager?”

“Yes.”

“The coach too?”

“Yes.”

“Anybody playing baseball?”

“Yes.”

“And who are these fellows? Do we need to know their name?”

“Well, we shouldn’t. Because the Person of the Year is ‘You.'”

“Then you’re the Person of the Year?”

“Yes.”

“And who are you?”

“Me. But that’s part of You.'”

“Me? The guy on first?”

“Yes. You’re You too!”

“The first baseman?”

“Yes. He’s Person of the Year too.”

“This is too goddamn conceptual. Priscilla wouldn’t approve.”

“What?”

“I Don’t Give a Darn!”

“That’s next year’s Person of the Year.”