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Like most Americans, Andrew Zarzour sat transfixed in front of a television screen as the events of Sept. 11 unfolded before his eyes.
"We're at war!" he screamed out to his now very awake roommates as he watched live the first tower tumble to the ground.
It was surreal. The Dodgers had been to New York a few times during the season, and while Zarzour hadn't had much time to play tourist, he remembered seeing the World Trade Center stand as a proud beacon in the New York City skyline.
As the day progressed, players, coaches and families began making their way to the LA Dodgers club house. There was something about being together as a team that made everyone feel a little safer. There were fears for awhile that something might happen in Los Angeles. The devastating events were just beyond the realm of everyone's thinking. Could there be a plane or missile or bomb headed here? And Where was President Bush? He hadn't surfaced since leaving the Florida elementary school in haste.
Zarzour's cell phone rang on his hip, and he literally jumped. He recognized the number immediately. It was Timmy.
"Hey Timmy." Andrew said. "How are you, little brother?"
Timmy was shouting: "Can you believe this Sh**!! This is fu****** unbelievable, man. They blew up the fu***** World Trade Center and the Pentagon. Ah sh**, and I can't reach Big Ed. He said he was supposed to have the day off, but fu** it all, I can't get through. I keep getting some all-circuits-are-busy sh**. Oh brother, what if he's dead? He's going to have a son in a few months. Whoever those fu**ers are, we should nuke them to hell. And I'll pull the trigger."
Andrew just listened as his brother ranted for another couple minutes. Andrew tried to pray, but words failed him. They both just broke down and sobbed.
"I wish you were here, brother," Timmy said.
"Me, too," Andrew said, choked up...
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