First & Girl, page 12
We Have a Situation Here
K
eeping a rebellious gang of misfits together for three years proved successful but exhausting. With most of his starters retiring, Phil realized he wouldn’t be able to top two consecutive league titles.
Revelee would always be home, but weekend commutes were the underlying cause of the collapse of his first marriage with Sheryll.
They wiped the slate clean. Phil took the job with his father-in-law’s company in Dallas. Eventually, they had two sons, Rob and Vince. Phyllis was especially fond of her nephews and continued to take every opportunity to counsel and boss Phil around. Sheryll gave up margaritas.
Jane Hashop took over management of the Raider’s football program. She became a welcome participant in the weekly caffeine and conversation sessions at the Courthouse Café.
There were a few less aches and pains in the shipping yard on Monday mornings. Archer Lee and Big Ol’ Luther raced forklifts from one end of the factory to the other. Clay got implants; he drove a truck for the company.
Glen Springer went full-time tracking bad guys. Avery Jordan turned in his shoulder pads for a lab coat at the clinic. When he was sober, Rod Payne read blueprints at a construction site.
Unfortunately, Chopper Owens was a fatality in a motorcycle accident.
Mark Penland, LeMonte and Crow remained as the coaching staff. Jane tweaked the budget to get them additional compensation.
Collene and her husband moved to Henderson, Nevada. Dale Kendall faded out of the picture. His marital status with Homer’s daughter was never publicly revealed.
The last Phil heard from Kelly, she was sharing a log cabin in Washington state with Jim Nations. They cultivated their own sedatives.
♦ ♦ ♦
On the tenth anniversary of the Raiders’ victory in the Always Albuquerque Bowl, Phil went back to Revelee for a team reunion.
Many of the veterans from that historic, three-year run, gathered at the Lion’s Den. Most had never been true, conditioned athletes; but, during their playing days, they maintained the necessary physique to run, block and tackle among the best in the league.
T-shirts of the graying, bearded warriors now exposed prolonged waistlines. Some walked with a limp, many sported flat noses and crooked fingers. Still, their proud faces and broad shoulders demonstrated a past conquering prowess.
The Lion’s Den was packed. The former players commandeered tables in a corner near the back exit; the juke box blared over animated recollections.
It wasn’t color-coded, but Jane was now the keeper of the spreadsheet.
“This is a great turnout. I knew you’d still have contact information for all our former players.”
“I wasn’t sure what kind of response you’d have,” Phil said. “Some of these guys still don’t have email.”
“Okay, I have to ask,” Jane said, “did you hear anything from Kelly?”
“Somehow, I knew that would come up, but no. The last time I heard from Kelly she was in the Pacific Northwest with Jim Nations. You know as much as I do now.”
“That’s a shame,” said Jane. “They both played a big role with this team. I believe it was Kelly’s touchdown that got us to the first Pinecone Bowl.”
“Kelly was goal-driven. She couldn’t just settle for making the roster.”
“I didn’t know Kelly very well, but I do remember she took a bullet for you in Albuquerque. You moved to Dallas after that. Was it because of her?”
“I settled a score with Sheryll while we were in Albuquerque. It was time to patch up things, move on.”
“Man, this is gettin’ deep,” Mark said. “We need to talk about the banquet. One of us will have to tell Homer when to quit talking.”
Phil drifted in and out of the conversation. A table next to the coat rack captured the moment when Kelly Kingman triggered a detour. Phil often speculated, would he still be using a door desk if Kelly hadn’t bounced into his life?
The experiment was risky; the outcome was intriguing. What if he hadn’t answered the phone the night Sheryll called? Would it be different if they didn’t catch up on a few things in Sherman? If he had been there to welcome Kelly after her only touchdown, where would they be now?
It was complicated.
“I need to head out.” Phil pitched a wad of dollar bills on the counter. “Sheryll’s probably ready to strangle the boys.”
Darkness descended as Phil clambered off the bar stool. A water tower blotted out the ceiling light. Dickie Boyd occupied a lot of space.
“Hey Phil, we need to see you in the parking lot.”
“The parking lot?”
“Yeah, Glen’s out there with his new rig. You need to see this thing.”
“Aw man, I haven’t been in a bar fight since college.”
Revelee’s Lone Ranger stood at attention next to a dull black amphibious carrier with a full rack of lights across the top. The bumper looked like a battering ram.
Phil marveled at the daunting gun turret. “Why don’t you try to be more conspicuous?”
Glen spit and then opened the rear door. Phil had never seen Kelly Kingman frightened or in tears. She crawled out and wrapped her arms around his neck. They clung to each other, struggling to control a flurry of emotions. Even the virile stallions were left momentarily compassionate.
“What’s wrong? Did someone ask you to be a decoy?”
“You’re so full of prunes,” she said. “At least kiss me.”
Dickie ran a sleeve across his nose and then pounded on the hood. “Enough already. We have a situation here.”
“It’s a long story.” Kelly sighed. “Bottom line, Jim left me a couple of weeks ago. I’m pregnant.”
Phil grasped her shoulders. “But Kelly, you’re… “
“Almost forty. I know.”
“Have you been with Jim all this time?”
“I finally found someone more unconventional than me. Then, for some reason, Jim decided to go back to East Texas. Yeah, it’s complicated.”
“I’m speechless.”
“Good. This is not a time for counselling.”
“Are you two married?”
“I didn’t think it was necessary, before now.”
Sheryll wasn’t thrilled about driving to Caddo Lake in the middle of the night, especially with Kelly. Fashionable evening attire, which was all she brought, wasn’t compatible with wading through a marsh.
They met Sherlock and Dr. Watson on the outskirts of town, then headed northeast on State Highway 43. Glen’s monster truck wasn’t designed for luxury rides; Sheryll pointed that out, too. The average gas mileage was shorter than Sheryll’s temper; they stopped to fill up in Marshall. She got an extra-large cup of Brazilian Dark and an apple fritter. Kelly bought an energy drink and a vitamin bar.
Conversation was minimal; the engine was loud anyway.
The morning sun glistened on the lake as they arrived at Miss Betty’s store. Glen took off his aviator shades and marched in to seek the necessary intel. The Brazilian Dark maxed out Sheryll’s bladder.
“I need to pee.”
“It’s behind the store.” Phil handed her a canister of disinfectant wipes. “You may need these.”
“Behind the store?”
“It’s either that or behind a tree.”
She snatched the container. “Tell me this is all just a bad dream.”
Miss Betty hadn’t seen Jim but suggested they check an old pump station on the Louisiana side. He had often used it to horde beaver pelts. Sheryll came out of the store with another jumbo coffee cup and slammed down a jelly-filled donut.
Floods had washed out the service road. Shifting into amphibious mode, Glen navigated across a tributary lined with bald cypress trees draped with Spanish Moss. The remote area was a perfect hideout.
What appeared to be tire tracks suggested the fugitive was camped under a ramshackle deer blind. Glen deployed an inflatable raft; he and Kelly paddled through a nearby peat bog. Dickie followed a vague trail that meandered along the shoreline.
Phil and Sheryll sat on the rear bumper swatting mosquitoes.
“I don’t know where he got it from, but Rob has a rocket launcher for an arm. I watched him at practice.”
“They sure can’t have practice without you there.”
“Coach says they’re groomin’ him to be the quarterback.”
Sheryll smacked her forearm. “These damn things.”
Phil whisked a hand across his face. “They must not bother Jim.”
“He probably smells too bad,” she said. “Do you think Kelly really loves this guy?”
“Well, she drove half-way across the country to find him.”
“You did the same thing for Kelly.”
“And I left East Texas to be with you.”
“Do you still have those disinfectant wipes? I need to go find a tree.”
Kelly always threw the planets off course, which could mean she and Jim were made for each other. She used the term unconventional. There wasn’t a better way to describe her or Jim Nations. The extent of their compatibility was on trial.
“Read the label closely.” Thick, muddy water dribbled out of Dickie’s boot. “There’s a difference between water resistant and waterproof.”
“Mission accomplished,” said Phil.
“It took a while. I had to let Jim rant about the state parks & wildlife department before he agreed to come with us.”
“Did you tell Jim anything?”
“Aw hell no! It was all I could do just to coax him out of the boat!”
With thumbs looped around the suspenders of his stained, ragged overalls, Jim faced the lonesome bayou. A faded red do-rag covered his head. Kelly rested her arm on his shoulder, whispering softly.
Glen maintained surveillance of the environs. That far back in the woods, there was always a sense that something was watching from behind the foliage.
“I’ve been trackin’ worthless vermin around here the past few months,” he said. “We’re in the middle of downtown depravity.”
Sheryll clutched the disinfectant dispenser against her chest. “I just hope nobody yells Squeal like a pig.”
The waterfront dialogue appeared to be at a standoff. Jim stroked his beard with a casino -worthy poker face. Normally animated, Kelly retained her composure. Alternatives were restricted for both.
Eventually, Kelly returned to the truck and summoned Phil. Her face intimated anguish combined with exasperation. Hourly rates for relationship counselling didn’t apply in the swamp. Mediating quirky required overtime.
Jim clinched his fist. “Kelly says that’s my baby. Why are you here?”
“Because… I care about Kelly. All right? We’ve known each other since we were kids.” Phil wiped an arm across his forehead. “Jim, she drove all the way from Washington state to find you. I would hope that means something.”
“I can’t raise a child in a camper.”
“And I couldn’t raise a child driving from East Texas to Dallas every weekend.” Phil shook his head warily. “Sometimes, you have to man-up and accept responsibility. It wasn’t easy, but I left football to be with my family.”
Jim was affronted but kept the cards close to his vest. At the risk of being pummeled, skinned or shot, Phil paced nervously.
“I realize I can’t talk guns or fishin’ with you; but maybe I can arrange something at the brick plant, maybe out in the shipping yard. You can cruise around on a forklift.”
“Outside?”
“All day long.”
Jim pulled off the bandana and wiped the back of his neck. “Who do you know at the parks & wildlife department?”
“Beg your pardon?”
“The game warden keeps harassing me about a camping permit.”
“Well, this is government land. We need to figure out some sort of exemption. I don’t know, maybe an on-site maintenance agreement.”
Jim moaned, crumpling the bandana. “The government.”
“Look, Homer is buddies with our state representative. I’ll see what I can do.”
Kelly gripped the bib of Jim’s overalls. “Jimbo, you’re gonna’ have to get your head in the game. But, right now, I need to vomit.”
I Do
C
orralling two restless young boys, Sheryll grew impatient as Phil stopped every few rows to visit with friends at the local high school stadium. Jane had arranged for them to watch the game from a covered, open-air deck next to the press box, Revelee’s version of a VIP Suite.
Even after ten years, Phil recognized many of the Raider Nation gang. Jane continued the weekly updates and was accepted as one of the good ol’ boys at the Courthouse Café.
The Raiders vs. Trojans contest was well into the first quarter by the time Phil got to their private perch. Sheryll was sitting in an aluminum folding chair refreshing her eye shadow; the Curry boys were helping themselves to the candy and assorted nuts buffet.
The Albuquerque Bowl veterans would be recognized on the field at half-time. Reading over the team roster, Phil noted that he went to high school with the parents of some of the current players. Sheryll was more concerned with the chaos in the ant bed.
“I hope these two don’t get sick. You’re gonna’ have a long walk to the restroom.”
Phil turned his Raider cap backwards. “Vince, use a napkin.”
“Why doesn’t Homer sit up here?”
“He never has.” Phil squinted through his binoculars. “Homer always felt like he should be out there with the fans.” The aluminum chair squawked as he reached for the popcorn. “I was usually behind the bench. This is the first time I ever sat up here.”
“Oh, so you finally made it to the penthouse.”
“I know it’s been kinda’ weird;” said Phil, “I appreciate you being here.” Sheryll licked the tip of her finger and then dabbed her cheek. “I’m adding it to what you owe me for filling in as a spotter.”
“Do you have room for one more?” Phyllis and an enormous blue and gold megaphone wedged in next to Sheryll. “You better grab a candy bar,” Sheryll said, “before these two hellions eat ‘em all.”
Allowing for a couple of seat cushions, cowbell, pom poms, wine flask, and a bag of confetti, she finally got situated. Phyllis was amped about sitting in the VIP Suite. They immediately began jabbering. Between the giggles and animated gestures, all Phil could make out was, “Everything’s ready.”
Just prior to half-time, Jane called them down to the field. With all the additional paraphernalia, exiting the exclusive stall was equally cumbersome. “I’ll meet you down there.” said Phyllis. “I need to take care of a few things.”
“Put that back! No more.” Sheryll had Vince by the collar; he was on his fourth candy bar. “I just know he’s gonna vomit on Homer.”
Phil was in awe of the new and improved helmets and uniforms. The trainer and field assistants were equipped with the latest gear; they wore matching shirts and pants. The coaches were diagraming plays on iPads. Best of all, Revelee was ahead by ten points.
“Vince, don’t mess with that.” Phil’s youngest found the spigot on the water cooler to be quite fascinating. “Rob, watch your brother; he’s gettin’ all crazy.”
The scene was heartening as his former players assembled on the track. Some were wearing their original game jerseys. Avery Jordan, Big Ol’ Luther and Archer Lee traded punches and taunts. Dickie Boyd and Bert Cherry were in their Resistol hats. Glen Springer wore his trademark aviator shades; he had a dip of snuff in his mouth.
Cameron Fox was in a business suit. His hair, of course, was perfect.
“So, who’s the shaved-head dude with the Fu Manchu moustache?” Phil thought to himself. “Must be a sportswriter.” A loud, grinding horn signaled the conclusion of the first half. The current young juggernauts trotted to the field house.
The old guard lined up across the turf. Most of the Raider alumni were proud to be honored, but were in a disinterested, hands-in-the-pocket, balance-on-one-leg posture.
Cocked and loaded with candy bars, Vince had several wrist bands around his neck and a kicking tee balanced on his head. Awaiting a signal from the stadium announcer, Phil was instructed to take part in a formal presentation.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve made an adjustment in tonight’s proceedings. Approaching the fifty-yard line is Jim Nations, one of the most prolific receivers to ever wear a Raider uniform.”
In their too-cool-to-appear-excited pose, the gridiron bovine backed away. The shaved-head dude with the Fu Manchu moustache stood on the 50-yard line. Unlike his burly mountain man attire, Jim Nations was in a pair of starched and pressed blue jeans. His boots were freshly shined.
Phil was visibly flustered. Being a certified check-list nerd, he was baffled with the last second revision to the itinerary.
“We just learned that Jim has proposed to another celebrated member of this particular team. Kelly Kingman won the hearts of Raider fans when her touchdown paved the way to our very first Piney Woods League title
We understand that Miss Kingman has accepted Jim’s request to be his bride. The entire alumni squad will serve as Jim’s Best Man.
Escorting Miss Kingman to the field is our former team president, Phil Curry.”
Underlying Rivalry
N
o one, including Kelly, was sure if Jim would show up at the game that night. Phyllis found her wedding veil in the attic and loaned it to Kelly. She went to the flower shop late Saturday night to arrange the bouquet.
Jane had special jerseys made, including their names. They couldn’t decide what number to print on Jim’s shirt. She also conducted the ceremony.
Kelly and Jim spent their honeymoon night in his camper. Vince threw up on the drive back to Dallas.
For some folks, it would be considered an unconventional wedding ceremony, and certainly an unpredictable pairing. Just another quiet, uneventful weekend in East Texas.
♦ ♦ ♦
After that whimsical event, there were more changes. By default, Phil Curry became the Chief Executive Officer at Sinclair Systems, Inc. in Dallas.
