Ninety in Kent, Two Freshmen, and Phil Stops Texting
Cleveland State90
Kent State16
- Game
- 2033 Week 1
- Site
- Away
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 1-0
Vikings 90, Kent State 16, in Kent. One and oh.
Ninety, folks. NINETY. Seventy-four points of daylight on the road. And here’s the part I want you to hear: the quarterback who did it is a redshirt freshman. And the receiver who caught the ball all afternoon is a true freshman. A true freshman. Eighteen years old, from Iowa.
Our new quarterback is Kaleb DuBose, a five-star kid from Texas who sat and learned behind Greg Price last year. Our new receiver is Titus Reece, a five-star kid from Iowa who was one of the top ten recruits in the whole country. I watched Reece run his first route and turned to Donna and said, “Donna, I think that boy is going to be a problem for everybody.” Donna said, “Michael, you say that every year.” I said, “This year I mean it.” She said, “You say that every year, too.”
Greg Price is gone. Dakota McNitt is gone. Bobby John, our Rimington-winning center, is gone too, though Seth Molinaro is back for one more year. And we scored ninety. Coach Dolan doesn’t rebuild, my people. He reloads.
Jersey forty goes on the second rack. Donna says the second rack is “almost full.” I’ve asked Sam about a third.
Four pierogi.
A seventy-four-point win at my alma mater. I didn’t text Phil this year. Phil, Kent State’s sports information director for more than twenty years, didn’t text me either. On Sunday a card arrived at the apartment. Inside, in Phil’s handwriting, it said: “We’re even now. You married well. We lost by seventy-four. The universe balances.” I’ve put it on the refrigerator next to my father’s napkin.
The Vikings have changed starting quarterbacks for the fourth time in five years: Price in 2029, Shelley in 2030, Price again in 2031 and 2032, now DuBose. Every time, I’ve doubted. Every time, the new quarterback has been excellent. At some point, doubting this program’s quarterbacks stops being skepticism and starts being a hobby. I’m keeping the hobby.
I called my father Sunday. My mother answered and said it wasn’t a good day, and that I should keep it short. I told him the score. He said, “That’s nice, Kenny.” He didn’t ask who the quarterback was. He always asks who the quarterback is. My mother came back on and said, “He’s tired, sweetheart. Call next week.”
“Lil,” for Phil, who asked in his card: a high school swim meet. The program misprinted my name. It was the lightest lane assignment.
Back and forth
A true freshman, Kenny. From Iowa.
I saw. I’m doubting him on principle. It’ll be over by October.
How’s your dad?
Tired. My mother said call next week. I will.
Ninety points in Kent with two freshmen at the controls, a card from Phil that balances the universe, and a short call to Sarasota that Ken will make again next week.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.