Eighty-Four Points, and Sam's Grandmother Is Torn
Cleveland State84
Toledo14
- Game
- 2030 Week 3
- Site
- Home
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 3-0
EIGHTY-FOUR POINTS. Vikings 84, Toledo 14. At home. Three and oh.
I’ve been covering this team since 1994, folks, and I’ve never typed the number eighty-four next to the word Vikings before. I typed it four times just to see it. Then I printed it out. It’s on the refrigerator next to the grocery list. Donna moved the grocery list.
Now, a family complication. You’ll remember Sam, my son-in-law, the carpenter. His grandmother, Rosalind, is from Toledo. Eighty-nine years old. She sang the fight song at Kate’s wedding even though she didn’t know the words. She came to the game with Kate and Sam, wearing a Toledo sweatshirt and a Vikings scarf, which she called “being diplomatic.” By the third quarter she’d taken off the sweatshirt. By the fourth quarter she’d put it back on, “out of pity.” She told me afterward, “Michael, you people are very rude to my city.” I said, “I’m sorry, Rosalind.” She said, “Don’t be sorry. Just don’t do it again.” We play Toledo a lot. I can’t promise anything.
Five pierogi. And a box of Donna’s kolaczki for Rosalind, as reparations.
Eighty-four points. Seventy points of daylight. I’m not sure there’s analysis for that. It’s just arithmetic that got out of hand.
I’ll try anyway. Three games, three wins, by forty-two, sixty and seventy, with a first-year starting quarterback and a first-year defensive coordinator. Opponents have scored twenty points combined. That’s a team that isn’t just winning. It’s making a point. I don’t know who it’s making the point to. Possibly Ohio. Possibly Miami (OH). Possibly last January.
I called my father Sunday. A clear day, mostly. I told him the score, and there was a long pause, and he said, “Kenny, that’s a basketball score again.” I said, “It’s football, Dad.” He said, “Who’s the quarterback? Is it Price?” I said, “No, Dad, there’s a new one. Shelley.” He was quiet. Then he said, “What happened to Price?” I said, “He’s the backup.” Ray said, “That’s a shame. He listened.” I’ll be honest: I thought about that all week.
Back and forth
Rosalind put the Toledo sweatshirt back on out of pity.
That’s the most dignified response to eighty-four points I can imagine.
Your dad remembered Price.
He did. He’s loyal to the kid who listened. So am I, a little.
Eighty-four points for the refrigerator, an 89-year-old grandmother from Toledo practicing diplomacy, and a father in Sarasota still loyal to the quarterback who listened.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.