In college I took a course in creative writing and our instructor Dr. Louis Haselmayer had us practice writing what he called dramatic transitions over and over again, stressing a four point structure. Reaction. Dilemma. Decision. Action. I was in my dilemma and reacting strongly.
After practice I sat in my apartment. The more I thought about what I might do, the more hot and cold flashes I got. I started shivering and sweating. I wanted a drink badly. I walked down to the local bar. I knew I wasn't going to get stiff. There was too damn much at stake. I just wanted to relax.
What if something happened to Lee or Graff and I did get in? But it was going to be tough to beat out Vakos. I'd have to look good in the second half.
I drank the scotch and water slowly and looked at the wall of the booth. No, I'd never get in the game, not even if I got picked over Vakos. He'd probably pick Vakos because he was young, had a future. But that didn't mean anything to Bud Grant. He would go for an old pro, but not if I looked lousy in the last game.
I felt rotten about what I was thinking. How to get rid of Vakos? How to keep him from playing well in the game? To hell with it. It was a chance in a thousand. I'd never get another chance. Not if they knew about the knee. This was my last shot.
I put my glass down and shook my head when the waitress hustled me for another drink. Only one way to get Vakos out there. Get him sick before or during the game. It would have to be something he ate and I'd have to get it to him before the game. They dope horses, don't they?
Where in hell would I find any dope in Des Moines? Straight town. I thought and thought and thought and then it hit me. Hang around a high school. There was bound to be a pusher. Scallen, you prick. But I was never going to get a chance again.
I looked up the high schools and the nearest to me was East High. The next day at noon I drove over to East High, a big stack of bricks, and sat on the steps. The trouble was I didn't look quite old enough to be the father. of a high-school student, so what was I doing on the steps. Maybe waiting for my nephew. There were kids smoking sticks under the trees and I strolled around a nice grassy lawn in front of the building, thinking I could make a buy. But all I did was get the kids to stop smoking. They probably thought I was a cop. They faded away. I was leaning against a tree, looking out at the street. It was all starting to look gray again, even the brick building.
The biggest red-faced cop I've ever seen came up and tapped me on the shoulder. "Buddy, waitin' for somebody?"
"My nephew."
He had hair coming out of his nostrils and ears.
"Lunch is over. What time you meeting him?" He squinted at me, watching me closely. He looked Very suspicious.
"He should have been here twenty minutes ago.
"What's his name?"
"Dick Evans."
"Ask in the office?"
"He'll be along," I said.
"I got you pegged, mister. You look like a molester. Same size. About the same clothes. We got a report on you. Offering the chicks chewing gum, trying to get them in your car."
"I'm a real barracuda."
"Maybe you'd like to go downtown and talk to the captain."
"What's wrong, officer? I'm standing under a tree. Doing nothing. What's wrong?"
"Public property."
"What do the taxpayers do?"
"Let's see your driver's license."
I took out my wallet. He looked at the license. He smelled of stale beer and cigars.
"Ain't I seen you someplace before?" He squinted one eye at me.
"Circus," I said. "I came through here last year with Ringling Brothers."
"Wuddiya do?"
"Animal act. Cats."
His eyes bugged.
"Lions?"
"Pussy," I said. I looked straight a. him. He turned his head a little to one side.
"You ain't kidding?" He watched my eyes.
"No. Just Pussy. Little cats," I told him.
"Where do you keep 'em?"
"They got ate up."
"Huh?"
"Dog act ate 'em all up two weeks ago. I'm out of work. I come back here to buy some new pussy. Best show pussy in the world is right here in Des Moines. Smart cats."
"What kind of cats?"
"Plain old alley cats. My nephew's going to take me out to an old woman who has a bunch of cats. She's sick and wants to sell 'em."
The cop handed me my driver's license.
"Lots of luck, fella."
He walked away. I thought he was going to scratch the back of his head like a television cop but he kept right on walking.
After practice that afternoon, Binks came into the locker room and told the whole squad they were expected to attend a Baptist church supper that evening in honor of the team. First time I'd heard about it.
"I want everybody there: I mean everybody. If you want to play tomorrow night, you be at that dinner."
It turned out a guy named Carter Peterson was sponsoring the dinner for his church supper to help raise funds for the church's Girl Scout camp. And it also turned out Peterson had a big piece of the team stock.
It was strictly chicken and peas and the place was full of mothers and fathers and all the high school athletes in the city. Binks gave them his number one chicken and peas speech.
I got my elbow up on the table and my chin propped in my hand and by the time Binks started to talk, I was fast asleep though I could hear his voice droning on and on across a dream I was having. I was coaching the Vikings. Grant had retired. I had led the Vikings to victory in the Superbowl. I had a ten-year contract.
I don't know how long the dream lasted, but suddenly Dow was poking his elbow in my guts,, muttering, "Wake up. Wake up. He's finished talking."
I knocked over my water glass and stood up in the applause for Binks breaking over the room. I was halfway to the door when all the chairs were being pushed back from the table and Mom and Dad were ready to go home for the ten o'clock news.
"I just loved your last game," somebody said to me in the hall.
It was a girl. A very tall, beautiful chick, about twenty, brown hair, gorgeous tits. She was wearing a Girl Scout uniform.
"I'm Sybil Jensen," she said.
She held out her hand. I shook it. What the hell was this luscious dish doing in a Scout uniform?
"How're you, Sybil?" What the hell did she want? I looked her over. Big-big blue eyes. Creamy skin.
"Are you busy right now?"
"I'm going home," I said.
"I wonder if you could do me a favor?"
"I'II try."
"Well, the church has asked me to organize a girl touch football team. I don't know any plays. Uh, I wonder if I could talk to you now."
"The season's almost over. Kids will freeze outdoors in this weather soon."
"Maybe just a few plays. It's for next fall. Your team changes a lot and I thought, uh -"
"You're absolutely right. I won't be back next year. Why don't we go over to your place and I'll diagram a few plays for you?"
She smiled quickly.
"I'll just get my coat."
In the car she said, "I just love football."
"It's a fascinating game."
She had a nice little apartment, very feminine decor. She asked if I cared for a drink.
"Where'd you get that outfit?" I said, looking at her Scout uniform.
She didn't say anything.
I said: "Scotch on the rocks and a Scout dress. I don't get it."
"Piss off," she grinned. "I've had my eye on you since you got into town. She unbuttoned the Scout dress down the front, left it on the floor and went into the kitchen. She came back carrying two drinks and wearing a bathrobe.
"I still don't get it," I said, clinking her glass with mine.
"I'm a school teacher," she said. "The salaries are lousy." She sat down beside me. "I get paid for being a good Scout mistress." We clinked glasses again.
"You've got an unlisted phone number," she said.
"To keep away the good scouts."
"Want to turn on?"
"Why not?"
She went away and came back with a couple of joints. We turned on. When I got her to bed, we were both turned on. She was something. She really knew how to take it out of you. A real scout. Fire by friction. I damn near went up in a puff of smoke. We were lying on the bed. She asked if I wanted to drop some acid. For about a million years I didn't say anything because I knew I had it made. I was going to get to suit up with the Vikings.
"I can't," I said. "I got a game tomorrow night. But if you can spare some, I'd like to take a little with me."
"Take a little of me with you. Now."
"I gotta have legs for that game."
"I only want one of them now," she said.