North Texas in the First Round, and Stan Dusts Three Times
Cleveland State45
North Texas13
- Game
- 2037 CFP First Round
- Site
- Neutral site
- Result
- Win
- Record
- 13-1
VIKINGS 45, NORTH TEXAS 13. FIRST-ROUND PLAYOFF WIN.
Thirty-two points of daylight against a first-time opponent, the Mean Green from Denton. A team that’s had a wonderful year and ran into ours. Thirteen and one, folks. The long road, again, for the fourth straight year. Four games to the title. We’ve won three of them three years in a row. We need four.
At Big Stan’s on Monday, Stan dusted the nail three times. As per the council’s vote. He climbed down. He said, “That’s three.” Gerald asked, “What happens at four?” Stan said, “At four, Gerald, we hang something on it.” The whole deli went quiet. Gerald sat down. Nobody had turned off the slicer.
Then Walt, who has been at that counter longer than any of us, said something I’ll never forget. He said, “Stan, I’m seventy-nine. I want to see something on that nail before I die.” Stan said, “Walt, you’re not dying.” Walt said, “I know. But I want to see it anyway.” Chester put a hand on Walt’s shoulder. Chester has never put a hand on anybody’s shoulder.
Four pierogi. Stan put one extra on my plate and said, “Don’t tell the doctor.” I’m telling the doctor. Doctor, it was one. For Walt.
A thirty-two-point first-round win over North Texas. Thirteen and one. Florida State waits in the quarterfinal, a rematch of last year’s semifinal.
The Vikings have reached the national championship game in each of the last three seasons through this exact road: no bye, four games. They’ve lost all three title games to the same team. This year the RedHawks are on the other side of the bracket again. If both teams keep winning, they meet in the final for a fourth straight year.
I want to report that I’ve thought about it and I’m not afraid of a fourth straight. I’m not afraid of anything this year. That’s not confidence. I’m a doubter by trade; confidence isn’t available to me. It’s something else. My father says “you get one.” Teresa says “every shift is the next one.” Mickey says “next one.” Nadia says “win the whole thing.” Stan dusts the nail three times. When everybody you love says the same thing in different words, you start hearing it.
My father, Sunday: “Did we win?” “We won, Dad.” “That’s the first one.” He’s counting the playoff games. He’s counting them for me.
Back and forth
Walt wants to see something on the nail.
He’s seventy-nine. Chester put a hand on his shoulder. That’s the most physical contact in the history of the counter.
Your dad’s counting the playoff games.
“That’s the first one.” Three more. He’s counting. I’m letting him.
The long road starts again with North Texas, the nail dusted three times with a fourth promised, Walt’s wish at seventy-nine, and a father in Sarasota counting the playoff games for his son.
Split Decision is fiction. Mickey Bridges, Ken Hogmanes and The Lakefront Ledger are invented; the games and scores are not.