BYU Held to Nine, and Rose Starts Kindergarten in the Wrong Colors
Cleveland State49
BYU9
- Game
- 2036 Week 5
- Site
- Home
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 5-0
Vikings 49, BYU 9, at home. Five and oh.
Forty points of daylight. Our seventh straight win over the Cougars. The defense held them to nine. Two weeks in a row, nine points allowed. I’m told that’s called “a trend.” Kenny says one more week and he’ll call it “a pattern.” Three weeks and it’s “a personality.”
Rose started kindergarten in August. In Athens. And Bridget sent the first-day picture: Rose on the front steps with her backpack, which is, folks, green. Bobcat green. With a little paw print. Her lunchbox is green. Her shoes are green. Her hair ribbon is green.
But her socks. Her socks are forest green. Vikings green. With a little V on the ankle. Donna knitted them. Donna mailed them in July with a note that said, “For school days. Wear them under the shoes.”
Rose wears them every day, Bridget says. Under the shoes. Where nobody can see. When Bridget asked her why, Rose said, “Because Grandpa’s team is a secret on the bottom.”
Folks, my granddaughter is five and she’s carrying the Vikings into a kindergarten in Athens on her feet, under cover. I’ve never been prouder of anybody in my life.
Four pierogi. One on the plate.
A forty-point home win over BYU. Five and oh. The defense has allowed eighteen points in the last two games combined.
“Grandpa’s team is a secret on the bottom.” I’d like that on a plaque somewhere. It’s the best description of being a Vikings fan in Ohio I’ve ever heard. Ohio, the state, has been ruled for a decade by Ohio, the program, and the RedHawks. The Vikings are the secret on the bottom. They’re just very good at it.
My father, Sunday. My mother says he’s been watching the birds from the porch every morning. She says he names them still, all of them, and gets them right. When she put me on, he said, “Kenny. There’s a cardinal.” I said, “I believe you, Dad.” He said, “Red.” I said, “Like the RedHawks.” He said, “No. Like a cardinal.” He’s right. Not everything is football. Notebook: “There’s a cardinal. Red.”
The vacation is in two weeks. I’ve started packing. Teresa unpacked my laptop. I repacked it. She unpacked it again and put it in the freezer. Next to my phone, which is also in the freezer, preemptively.
Back and forth
A secret on the bottom.
Plaque material. I’m asking Sam.
Your laptop’s in the freezer?
With my phone. Teresa’s freezer is now a technology museum. I’ve stopped fighting.
BYU held to nine for the second straight shutdown, a kindergartner in Athens carrying the Vikings on her feet in secret socks, and a father who reminded his son that a cardinal is just a cardinal.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.