Toledo Hangs Around, and Ray Asks If the Kid Is Still the Kid
Cleveland State42
Toledo28
- Game
- 2028 Week 3
- Site
- Home
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 3-0
Vikings 42, Toledo 28, at home. Three and oh.
Teddy at the West Side Market had a bad feeling about this one. “Medium morning, Mick,” he said, wrapping my links. “Not slow. Not fast. Medium.” I asked what medium means. He said, “Means they’ll win, but you’ll be nervous in the third quarter.” Folks, I was nervous in the third quarter. Teddy is a prophet in an apron, and I don’t say that lightly.
Toledo played tough. They hung around longer than you’d like, and our guys took the punches and pulled away. A fourteen-point win against a good team from the other end of Lake Erie is a fine Saturday’s work. Not every week is a fireworks show. Some weeks are just a good day at the mill.
And here’s what I love about this team: the young guys and the old guys look like they’ve known each other forever. Hocker’s a senior, Nwangwu’s a junior, the good Kenny’s a sophomore and Jamie Cleveland’s a junior, and they all play like a family that eats dinner together. Big Stan says that’s because they all eat at his deli. That’s not true, but Stan believes it, so it’s true at the deli.
Three pierogi, one medium kielbasa.
A fourteen-point home win over Toledo. Steady. The kind of game that doesn’t make a highlight reel but does make a record.
I called my father Sunday. It was one of the clearer days. He asked how the Vikings were doing, and I said three and oh. He said, “Is the kid still the kid?” I knew who he meant. Hocker. My father has been asking about “the kid” for four years now, since the kid was a freshman, and every season I’ve told him the kid’s a year older, and every season he’s forgotten, and every season it’s somehow still the right question.
I said, “He’s a senior now, Dad. Last year.” He was quiet. Then he said, “Then you better enjoy it, Kenny.” I’m trying, Dad. I’m genuinely trying.
The Doom Model has stopped predicting losses this season. It predicts wins “with an asterisk.” I’ve asked what the asterisk means. It hasn’t answered. I think it’s afraid to say it too.
Back and forth
Your dad said to enjoy it, Kenny.
He did. I’m taking it as an order.
Are you enjoying it?
I’m enjoying it with an asterisk. Like the spreadsheet.
A medium morning, a fourteen-point win, and a father in Sarasota reminding his son that seniors don’t come back.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.