 He knows how he is going to die, and he knows the fate that will become him, and he knows he is powerless to stop it. His moment of reflection extends to now, where his only identity, one that is tied to his work and to his body, runs the risk of perishing, evidence of it being wiped away. But closure is never achieved and so he is held in limbo, erasing his own identity while perhaps realizing what he is doing. 
	Bill assumes the identity that is provided to him at the hands of others while refusing to become a subject, but then later becomes a subject to the capitalist demands of ‘making it.’ He lives out his entire life within the Coliseum as it appears in There There, removing him from the community, placing his body in a space of work instead of a space of exploration. He thinks of the world through baseball, the all-American sport, even though his American identity is limited by how other people see him as Indigenous. Bill’s body is broken down by his time in Vietnam, his time in prison, his job, but is never given a moment to heal. Pushing Bill into the capitalist system of working, of at least ‘making it’ requires him to stay broken, to look down and not question the systems at play, cluing into why he harbors so much hate for the younger generation. His body becomes a stand in for the Indigenous body, one that can neglect to mention its Indigenous heritage, but is still subject to the history behind it. 
