Twelve and Oh, and Bridget Brings Someone to Thanksgiving
Cleveland State45
Texas Tech28
- Game
- 2030 Week 12
- Site
- Home
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 12-0
Vikings 45, Texas Tech 28. At home. TWELVE AND OH. A PERFECT REGULAR SEASON.
I’ll say the word now, folks. The counter council voted to allow it. Perfect. Our first unbeaten regular season under Coach Dolan, and we closed it out by beating the team that beat us in Lubbock last year. Seventeen points of daylight. The list got its last line crossed off.
Thanksgiving was back at our house this year. And Bridget came home from Athens, and she wasn’t alone. She brought a young man named Eli. Eli Marsh. He teaches high school chemistry in Athens. He’s tall, quiet and polite, and he wore an Ohio sweater to my house, which took courage, and he brought a pie, which took wisdom. They’ve been together, it turns out, for two years. Two years! My daughter has been keeping a chemistry teacher from me for two years!
Bridget said, “Dad, I didn’t tell you because you’d interview him.” Then I interviewed him. For an hour. He handled it beautifully. He knew our record. He knew Shelley’s home state. When I asked him who he thinks wins the Big 12 title game, he said, “Respectfully, sir, I have to live in Athens.” That’s a son-in-law answer, my people. I’m just saying.
Five pierogi.
A seventeen-point win over Texas Tech completes the first twelve-and-oh regular season of the Dolan era. The Vikings went nine and oh in the Big 12. That’s the regular season. Now comes the part where Ohio gets another chance.
Thanksgiving. I want to report that Eli Marsh is the calmest person who’s ever sat at Mickey’s table. Mickey asked him eleven questions in a row. Eli answered each one, then asked Mickey one back: “Sir, what’s your favorite Vikings team of all time?” Mickey talked for forty minutes. Eli listened to every word. Donna looked at Bridget across the table and raised her eyebrows. Bridget turned red. Teresa squeezed my hand under the table. I didn’t know why. I do now.
Afterward, on the porch, Mickey said, “Kenny, what do you think of him?” I said, “He let you talk for forty minutes and looked happy. That’s either love or a medical condition.” Mickey said, “Teresa does that for you.” I said, “That’s different.” Mickey said, “Is it?”
I didn’t answer. I’ve been thinking about it since.
Back and forth
Two years, Kenny! She hid him for two years!
She knew you’d interview him. You interviewed him for an hour.
He passed!
He did. He said “Respectfully, sir.” I say that. I’m starting to like him.
A perfect regular season, the last revenge game crossed off the list, and a calm chemistry teacher from Athens who survived an hour of questions with a pie.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.