Baylor Six Straight, and Rose Is Two
Cleveland State49
Baylor13
- Game
- 2033 Week 3
- Site
- Home
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 3-0
Vikings 49, Baylor 13, at home. Three and oh.
Thirty-six points of daylight. Six straight wins over Baylor now, and the defense held the Bears to thirteen, the fewest they’ve scored on us since this run started. I’m told by people who study these things that our defense has new faces everywhere. It has the same attitude.
Now, Rose. Rose turned two in July. She talks in full sentences now, mostly about a stuffed bear named Gerald. Yes. Gerald. She named her bear after the ham man at Big Stan’s, because when Bridget brought her to the deli this summer, Gerald sat down without being told when Stan turned off the slicer, and Rose found this to be the funniest thing that has ever happened. She laughed so hard she got hiccups. Now the bear is Gerald, and the bear sits when you tell it to.
The real Gerald has been informed. He came to the counter Monday, very solemn, and asked me, “Mickey, is it a nice bear?” I said, “Gerald, it’s her favorite.” He sat down without being told and didn’t say anything else for an hour. Stan said it’s the happiest he’s ever seen Gerald. Chester abstained, but I saw him smile.
Four pierogi.
A thirty-six-point home win over Baylor. Three and oh. The Vikings have scored ninety, seventy and forty-nine with two freshmen leading the offense. The forty-nine is the low point. I recognize how ridiculous that sentence is.
I want to add a note on the defense, which nobody talks about because the offense is so loud. Thirteen points allowed to Baylor. Fourteen to UMass. Sixteen to Kent. That’s a unit with a lot of new starters playing like it doesn’t know it’s supposed to be learning.
My father, Sunday. My mother let me talk to him for about five minutes. He knew it was me. He knew it was football season. He didn’t know the score, and when I told him, he said, “Good, good.” Then he said, “Kenny, is it Saturday?” I said, “It’s Sunday, Dad.” He said, “I’ll watch Saturday.” I said, “Okay, Dad.” I didn’t correct him again. My mother says some days that’s the kindest thing.
The calls are shorter now. I’ve started writing them down afterward, everything he said, in a notebook Teresa bought me. It’s a small notebook. Some weeks there’s only one line.
Back and forth
Rose named her bear Gerald.
The real Gerald sat down for an hour. I’d like that kind of peace someday.
You’re writing down your calls?
Every one. Teresa’s idea. She says someday I’ll want to read them. She’s usually right about someday.
Six straight over Baylor, a two-year-old’s bear named for the most obedient man in Slavic Village, and a small notebook filling one line at a time.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.