Seven Straight Over the Sun Devils, and Leo Makes Varsity
Cleveland State63
Arizona State38
- Game
- 2033 Week 4
- Site
- Away
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 4-0
Vikings 63, Arizona State 38, in Tempe. Four and oh.
Twenty-five points of daylight. Our seventh straight win over the Sun Devils. Every year since 2027, folks. They’re a good program with good fans and I’ve never once been nervous about them, which I’ve just written down, which means next year I will be.
Big news on the porch. Leo Reyes, fifteen, a sophomore, made varsity. Varsity! As a cornerback. He started the second game. Marco called me at 10:30 on Friday night, from the bleachers, and couldn’t talk. He just held the phone up so I could hear the crowd. Then Jess took the phone and said, “Mickey, he broke up a pass on the last play. The last play!” Then she started crying and gave the phone back to Marco, who was also crying, and I was on my porch crying, and Viking, our old beagle, fourteen now, looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
Ken’s father told Leo last year, through me, that cornerback is the loneliest position on the field and that it gets less lonely. On Saturday, Leo asked me to tell Mr. Ray something back. He said, “Tell him it’s less lonely already.”
I’ll tell Ken. Ken will tell Ray. Ray might not remember. It’s still true.
Four pierogi.
A twenty-five-point win in Tempe. Four and oh. The Vikings gave up thirty-eight, the most of the year so far, and scored sixty-three anyway. Arizona State has now lost seven straight to the Vikings. At some point that stops being a rivalry and starts being a habit.
Mickey asked me to pass along Leo’s message to my father. I did, on Sunday. My mother put me on speaker. I said, “Dad, you remember Leo, the boy next door to Mickey? The cornerback?” There was a pause. He said, “No.” I said, “You told him cornerback gets less lonely.” Another pause. Then he said, “That’s true. It does.” I said, “He says it already has.” My father said, “Good boy.” I don’t know if he knew who we were talking about. He knew it was true. That’s enough. That’s going in the notebook.
Teresa’s taken up running. She’s training for a 10K in Lakewood in the spring. She asked if I’d run with her. I said I don’t run. She said, “You don’t run yet.” That’s the second “yet” she’s hit me with this year. Her yets have a very good track record.
Back and forth
Leo made varsity, Kenny!
I heard. Marco called me too. At 10:45. Still crying.
Your dad said “good boy.”
He didn’t know who Leo was. He knew it was true. I wrote it down.
Seven straight over the Sun Devils, a fifteen-year-old cornerback who found out it gets less lonely, and an old man in Sarasota who didn’t remember the boy but remembered the truth.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.