Seventy-Six in Waco, and Sal's Pennant Gets a Second Year
Cleveland State76
Baylor17
- Game
- 2031 Week 6
- Site
- Away
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 6-0
Vikings 76, Baylor 17, in Waco. Six and oh!
Fifty-nine points of daylight in Waco. Our fourth straight win over the Bears. I’m running out of things to say about Baylor, folks, other than that they’re a lovely university and I hope they have a nice rest of their year.
I went to Sal’s Monday for my trim, and I have to report on the pennant. You’ll remember Sal hung OHIO NATIONAL CHAMPIONS 2029 over the mirror two Januarys ago. Well, Ohio won it again last year, after they beat us in the semifinal. And now there’s a second pennant. Under the first one. OHIO NATIONAL CHAMPIONS 2030. Green and white, same size, perfectly level.
I said, “Sal, that’s a lot of green.” He said, “I’ve got a third nail, Mick.” I said, “Sal.” He said, “It’s just a nail.” Folks, everyone in this city has an empty nail on a wall waiting for something. Big Stan has one. Sal has one. I’m starting to think it’s a regional condition.
But Sal gave me even sideburns, and charged me half price, and asked to see pictures of Rose, and when he saw the green onesie he said, “That’s my girl,” and I had to leave.
Five pierogi.
Six and oh. The Vikings have scored seventy-six, ninety-eight, fifty-nine, forty-nine, forty-nine and ninety-eight. I’ve listed them in random order so it reads less like a ransom note.
Ohio is undefeated too, and the Vikings play them in Athens in two weeks. Sal’s third nail is ominous. Bridget, back at work after her leave, texted Mickey: “rose says hi. rose says go bobcats.” Rose is three months old. Rose says nothing. That’s a press release.
I went to see Teddy at the West Side Market with a notebook. I asked him how he knows. He said, “Ken, when people are nervous, they buy pierogi early. When people are confident, they buy late. The pierogi lady sold out by eight-thirty before BYU. That’s nervous. Nervous means a close game is coming. Fifty-nine to twenty-one isn’t close. So I added twenty.” I said, “That’s not a method.” He said, “It’s fifty-nine.” I wrote it all down. I don’t understand any of it. I’ve never been happier.
Teresa asked why I was smiling. I said, “I met a man whose model is worse than mine and works better.” She said, “That’s called intuition, Kenny.” I said, “I don’t believe in intuition.” She said, “It believes in you.”
Back and forth
Sal has a third nail!
Everyone has a nail. Stan, Sal. I’m checking my apartment for one.
Teddy explained it?
He did. I took three pages of notes. None of it makes sense. All of it is correct.
Seventy-six in Waco, a second Ohio pennant and an empty third nail over Sal’s mirror, and a sausage vendor explaining his model to a man who’ll never understand it.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.