Eleven and Oh in Athens, From the Bobcat Seats
Cleveland State42
Ohio28
- Game
- 2035 Week 11
- Site
- Away
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 11-0
VIKINGS 42, OHIO 28. IN ATHENS. ELEVEN AND OH.
Fourteen points of daylight in Tim Slocombe’s building. Our fifth win in six trips to Athens. And I watched it from the Ohio family section, in my plain gray sweatshirt, with my granddaughter on my lap.
Here’s how Rose watched a football game. Every time the Vikings scored, she whispered in my ear, “Good job, Grandpa’s team.” Every time Ohio scored, she stood up on my knees and cheered out loud for her mommy’s team. When the game ended, and the Bobcat fans around us were quiet, she turned around, put her hands on my face and said, “Grandpa, you can be happy now. Quietly.” So I was happy. Quietly.
Eli sat next to us. At the end he shook my hand and said, “Congratulations, sir.” I said, “Eli, you’ve known me five years. You can call me Mickey.” He said, “I know, sir.” Some people are just like that. I like Eli more every year. I’ve stopped hiding it.
Bridget came down from the press box afterward and hugged us both. She said, “Dad, she’s been planning this for a month.” I said, “Kiddo, so have I.”
Five pierogi. Eaten quietly.
A fourteen-point win in Athens. Eleven and oh. Ohio has now lost at home to the Vikings in five of the last six Vikings visits.
I covered the game alone. I put Mickey’s coffee in his seat in the press box, as promised. Nobody took it. At halftime, Bridget, working the Ohio side, walked over to me and looked at the empty seat with the coffee on it. She said, “That’s for my dad?” I said yes. She said, “He’s in the family section, with my daughter.” I said, “I know.” She said, “Ken, you know what you are?” I said no. She said, “You’re the one who saves the seat.” Then she went back to work.
One week left in the regular season. Miami (OH), at home. The undefeated RedHawks, defending national champions, who beat the Vikings twice last year. The Vikings are undefeated. Somebody isn’t going to be.
Nadia texted me one word: “Ribbon.” I texted back: “Bet.” She sent back a bobblehead emoji, which doesn’t exist, so it was just a picture of her bobblehead.
Back and forth
Rose said I could be happy quietly.
She’s four. She’s already better at Athens than either of us.
Bridget said you’re the one who saves the seat.
She did. I’ve been thinking about it all week. I’d like that on my tombstone. Not soon. Eventually.
Eleven and oh with a fifth win in six trips to Athens, a grandfather happy quietly in the Bobcat seats, a coffee in an empty press box chair, and a doubter who saves the seat.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.