"That's right. In fact, the '68 team was never scored on.Twelve games, twelve shutouts. Those two guys were there."
"Awesome," Jaeger said, truly in awe.
"That was before we were born," Paul said.
A scoreless season took a minute to digest. The optometrist and the lawyer were deep in conversation, no doubt replaying their glorious achievements during The Streak.
"The paper did a story on Rake a few years after he was fired," Paul said softly. "It ran all the usual stats, but also added that in thirty-four years he coached seven hundred and fourteen players. That was the title of the story—'Eddie Rake and the Seven Hundred Spartans.' "
"I saw that," Jaeger said.
"I wonder how many will be at his funeral?" Paul said.
"Most of them."
Silo's version of a beverage run included the gathering of two cases of beer and two other guys to help drink it. Three men emerged from his pickup, with Silo leading the way, a box of Budweiser on his shoulder. One bottle was in his hand.
"Oh boy," Paul said.
"Who's the skinny guy?"Neely asked.
"I thinkit's Hubcap."
"Hubcap's not in jail?"
"He comes and goes."
"The other one is Amos Kelso," Jaeger said. "He played with me."
Amos was hauling the other case of beer, and as the three stomped up the bleachers Silo invited Orley Short and his pal to join them for a drink. They did not hesitate. He yelled at Teague and Couch, and they too followed them up to row thirty, whereNeely and Paul and Randy Jaeger were sitting.
Once the introductions were made and the bottles were opened, Orley asked the group, "What's the latest on Rake?"