The RedHawks Again, and Ken Pours a Fourth Time
Cleveland State42
Miami (OH)63
- Game
- 2037 Big 12 Championship
- Site
- Neutral site
- Result
- Loss
- Record
- 12-1
Miami (OH) 63, Vikings 42. For the Big 12 championship.
Twenty-one points. The RedHawks are undefeated, Big 12 champions, and the best offense I’ve ever seen, and I’ve now said that four years in a row and meant it every time. Seven straight wins over us. Joe Snyderwine, I tip my cap. I’m running out of caps.
Twelve and one. We’re in the playoff, without a bye, for the fourth straight year. We’ve walked this road three times in a row and ended one game short three times in a row. Kenny says I shouldn’t write that sentence. I’m writing it so I can write a different one later.
Donna sat with Nadia. Of course she did. Nadia held Donna’s hand in the fourth quarter. At the end, Nadia didn’t cry. She just looked at Donna and said, “I want to see you again in January.” Donna said, “You will.” Nadia said, “I mean at the end.” Donna said, “I know what you mean.”
Ray watched from Ken’s couch, before he and Carol flew home. Ken told me Ray said, at the end, “Kenny, that’s one.” Ken said, “One what, Dad?” Ray said, “One loss. You get one.”
Zero pierogi. One on the plate anyway. For Ray, who knows how many you get.
A twenty-one-point loss to undefeated Miami (OH) in the Big 12 championship game. Twelve and one.
The bet. Tuesday. I walked behind the bar, pulled Nadia a beer, set it down, and said: “Your team is better than mine.” Fourth time in fourteen years. The bar applauded, as is tradition. Nadia raised the glass. Then she reached into her apron and took out the green ribbon. She held it up. She didn’t give it to me. She said, “Ken, I’m not giving this to you. You’re going to have to win it.” I said, “From you?” She said, “From anybody. Win the whole thing. Then it’s yours.”
That’s a new rule. Nadia makes the rules at the Lantern Room. The bar applauded again, because Nadia had made a rule.
My father flew home Saturday. At the airport, in his wheelchair, he held my hand and said, “One loss, Kenny. You get one.” My mother says he said it twice more on the plane. I’ve decided to believe him. I’ve decided to believe a lot of things this year. It’s becoming a habit. I’m told by Mickey that’s how it starts.
Back and forth
One loss. You get one.
My father’s rule. He said it at the airport. Twice more on the plane.
Nadia says win the whole thing.
Then the ribbon’s mine. From anybody. I’ve never had a clearer assignment.
The RedHawks take the Big 12 for the fourth straight meeting with Mickey’s cap, Ken pours a fourth time and gets a new rule, and a father at the airport who says you get one loss.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.