The Number Is Next One
Cleveland State72
Toledo17
- Game
- 2036 Week 1
- Site
- Away
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 1-0
Vikings 72, Toledo 17, in Toledo. One and oh.
Fifty-five points of daylight, our eighth straight win over the Rockets. Rosalind, ninety-five now, called Kate afterward and said, “Tell Michael I’m getting too old for this.” Kate said, “He says he is too.” Rosalind said, “He’s a child.”
Folks, last January I told you I’d sleep on it for a month. I’d decide the number. I owe you the answer.
I slept on it. I walked on it, with Chester, every Monday. I sat on the porch with Five and thought about it. And in February, Donna and I were doing the dishes, and she said, “Michael, did you decide?” And I said, “I think the number is ‘next one.’” She said, “That’s not a number.” I said, “It’s the only one I’ve got. Every year, I’ll ask myself: one more? And if the answer’s yes, I’ll do one more.”
She dried a plate for a long time. Then she said, “That’s the most sensible thing you’ve ever said.” Then she kissed me on the forehead, which she only does when I’ve surprised her.
So here I am. Jersey forty-three, on the third rack. One more.
Four pierogi. One on the plate.
A fifty-five-point road win at Toledo. One and oh.
Mickey’s number is “next one.” I’d like to formally endorse it. It’s not a statistic. It can’t be modeled. It’s the most honest number in the history of this column.
I’ll report, since he won’t, that Mickey told me in February in the parking lot at Big Stan’s, and then turned around and walked inside before I could say anything, and that I stood in the parking lot for a while, and that Chester came out with a coffee and handed it to me and went back in without a word. I don’t know how Chester knew. Chester always knows.
The Vikings have a new starting quarterback, Elijah Pashos, a redshirt junior who waited behind Kaleb DuBose for two years. The pattern holds: a new starter, and seventy-two points. I’ve stopped doubting the quarterbacks. I’ve started doubting the defenses who have to play against them.
Teresa has informed me that the trip she booked for “after the season” last year has been moved to “during the season.” I asked why. She said, “Because with you, Kenny, the season never ends. So I’m putting the vacation inside it.” I’ve been outmaneuvered. It’s in October. I’ll miss a game. I’m told this is “the point.”
Back and forth
Next one, Kenny.
Next one. I’ll be in the seat next to you every next one.
You’re missing a game?
In October. On a beach. Teresa calls it the point. I call it a hostage situation with sunscreen.
Seventy-two points in Toledo, a believer’s number revealed over the dishes as “next one,” and a doubter whose vacation has been moved inside the season so he can’t escape it.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.