by Phil Wohl
THREE
“Why didn’t you guys tell me about what I was coming back to?” Save asked his family as they got into the car.
“Coach Doherty wanted to talk to you first,” his mom said in a voice intended to calm him down. It was the same voice she used after Dave gave up a winning single to lose the Minor League championship when he was nine. Back then, she turned to her son in the back seat after he threw his glove.
“Be gracious in both victory and defeat. You’ll get another chance to show what you’re made of.”
Dave’s father was not as forgiving. He knew that words would only go so far, so he had his son out on the field the next day, fielding ground balls and batting against him. Dad’s advice was more pointed, “They only way to get redemption is to work, not sulk. Sulkers never win, they just complain about things not going their way.”
Back to the present; the 15-minute car-ride home was fairly uneventful until Walter stopped at a red light. Lori and Dave’s mom were chatting back and forth about some of the people they had seen and Walter turned his head to the passenger side where his son was sitting. He gave him an “It’s time to get back to work” glance and Dave nodded in agreement. The two men had refined a language all of their own over the years, and words never seemed to hold the weight of their deep connection.
Dave had given up his passionate pursuits in favor of a more material life, where making money and talking in nauseating catch phrases like “bring to the table” and “let’s put that to bed” were standard issue. The Starbucks generation had replaced his more comfortable world in Bailey Woods, where everyone knew all of his strengths and flaws and still loved him for it. The city had about as much warmth, aside from glorious Central Park, as an extremely large ice cube.
Making decisions was always a quick process for Dave. He always went by his initial gut reaction, and supported his decision with necessary research. The supporting data on this long day would be uncovered at O’Malley’s Pub. Dave was in the front seat and his three teammates crammed into the back seat. Walter Abraham was driving and sternly said as he pulled up the pub, “If I see one egg on this car, or one roll of toilet paper on a tree of my house, I’m coming after you Finnegan.”
Finns gave Mr. Abraham a look like, “You got me all wrong, Mr. A.”
“I also don’t want you guys calling me at three in the morning,” Mr. Abraham added.
“Yeah, O’Malley has a shuttle bus for drunks like us,” Breslin said.
Dave got out of the car first and said, “Thanks, dad.”
Mr. A turned to the other three mooks and said, “You guys better not fuck this up.”
They replied in unison, “Yes, Mr. A” and then got out of the car.
Tony turned to Dave, “Your dad can be a very scary mother fucker.”
“Tell me about it,” Dave concurred.
It was 7:00 p.m. and the bar was sparsely crowded with regulars and families out for dinner on a Saturday night. As advertised, there were four stools available at the large, semi-circle bar, so the guys stepped up and sat down.
Finnegan saw O’Malley coming out of the corner of his eye and said out loud, “I hear the burgers are pretty good but the fries are soggy.”
Red-headed, Thomas O’Malley, Jr. walked behind the bar with a small towel over his shoulder, looking like a choir boy.
The street thug emerged, “I thought I told you to stay the fuck out of here, Finnegan. Your tab is as long as you think your dick is.”
O’Malley then turned to Dave, “Davie Abie. What’s up you city-slicking, Jew bastard.”
They slapped hands and O’Malley continued, “How about four cheeseburger platters and a couple of pitchers?” He then looked at Dave, “Or would you prefer a New York Strip and a bottle of wine?”
Before Dave could respond, his boys had his back.
“Our boy just got some big fame, you ignorant Mick bastard,” Finnegan said.
“We also brought him here to liquor him up and get him to take over the team,” Breslin added.
“What? The girl’s bowling team?” O’Malley questioned.
Tony D repositioned his chair signaling to O’Malley that he either back off or get the beating of his life.
O’Malley’s mood changed as he said, “I’ll be right back with your food.”
A girl then came out and poured a few pitchers for the guys and set out four beer glasses on top of Budweiser coasters.
Dave said, “I love it that Tony can still scare the shit out of people without even talking.
The glasses were full when Dave said, “Here’s to the Bailey Woods Dolphins.”
“Dolphins for life,” Finnegan said.
“Take it to the grave,” Tony added.
O’Malley came out with a few appetizers and then picked up a glass and toasted with the guys, “Salud.”
The boys said in unison, “Salud.”
The night started as a get reacquainted session, but they moved into more of a free-flowing, game-plan mentality.
“What are you pulling down, hot shot?” Breslin asked Dave as he threw a chicken finger down his throat like a pelican swallowing a fish.
“About a buck and-a-quarter,” Dave replied.
Finnegan nearly choked on another fried offering, “Fuck! And you’re gonna’ leave all that for this shitty job?”
Smacks on the back of the head from Tony D and Brian brought Cameron back to his senses.
“Thanks, Cam. But the money part is the least of my problems,” Dave replied.
He took a huge swig of beer to wash down the slop and the wiped his mouth with a paper napkin.
“Didn’t my parents tell you guys that I was engaged?”
Finnegan was the small point guard and floor general, so he called the play, “I divorced my wife because she didn’t like sports.”
Cameron couldn’t resist, “You divorced that whore because she worked at Hooters and was sleeping with half of the customers.”
Brian thought about fighting, but he was about three bars shy of raising his fists. He looked real serious and then smiled, “But she made real good tips.”
The guys cracked up and then Dave asked, “Any of you guys married?”
Breslin stared at a girl behind the bar, “I’m gonna’ marry that girl, but she doesn’t know it yet.”
“You dumb kraut. That girl’s gonna’ marry a brother with a shamrock like me,” Finnegan exclaimed.
The girl behind the bar walked over and started to refill the pitchers. She looked at the guys and said, “I’m standing right over there,” pointing to the corner of the bar. “People in the parking lot can hear you guys talking out your asses. And you!” she said looking at Breslin, “You come in here every week and give me those sad, puppy eyes, but you just sit there and watch TV. What’s it gonna’ be Cameron?”
The six foot two-inch Breslin straightened up in his chair and pushed the diminutive Finnegan to the floor before he could make a wise remark.
“Kathleen McNulty, will you do me the honor of going out with me tomorrow night?”
She smiled and replied, “Cameron Breslin. I would be honored, but make it tomorrow afternoon because I work at night.”
Finnegan got up from the floor but Breslin knocked him down again for good measure. The guys were yakking it up until their shooting guard, six foot Tom O’Malley, reached under the bar and pulled out a weathered Louisville Slugger baseball bat. He held the bat in his right and slapped it on his left palm.
“She’s my cousin, Cam. Fuck with her and I’ll rearrange that pretty face of yours.”
Cam nodded and then the guys returned to their eating.
Finnegan staggered back to his seat and asked O’Malley, “Hey, brother. Do you have any other cousins?”
Tom smiled and replied, “Do you mean cousins that work in an office and don’t wear little orange shorts and white tank tops?”
&nbs
p; There was no room at the bar for taking yourself seriously. In fact, the only thing there was room for was imagination and hope, two things that had been sorely missing Bailey Woods since the boys graduated high school. Together, they were a seamless machine that operated with incredible efficiency. But apart, they had struggled to regain any level of satisfaction they had previously attained.
Near the end of the night, Tony was prophetic when he asked, “Have we left our best years behind us?”
Dave took another swig of beer and offered his two cents, “If we did it once, there’s no reason that we couldn’t do it again.”
“Are you in?” Breslin asked.
Dave looked at the other four guys, “Only if you guys are in with me.”
Finnegan was wasted, but he excitedly interjected, “I’m in!” and then Cameron knocked him down again.
Tony said, “Get up you little bastard and get your hand in here.”
Right hands were placed on top of each other from all angles.
“On three,” Tony said. And then the boys yelled, “One, two, three, HARD WORK!
FOUR
It was hard work getting up the next morning and making the long trek back into the city. Instead of taking him to the train, Walter Abraham suggested that he drive his son back into the city. Dave needed to have a man-to-man talk with his dad, anyway.
“Three fifteen?” dad asked son.
“It would have been closer to four if they didn’t drop me off first,” Dave replied.
“Everything go Ok?”
“Did we have a good time? Yeah, we always have a good time when we’re together.”
Walter was never one to skip around an issue. “So, have you made a decision?”
Dave wanted to tell his dad but leaned toward the conservative approach. “I have to talk to Haley first.”
Dad looked over at son with a no bullshit grin, “So, you’re taking the job?”
Dave smiled and replied, “Yeah, I’m gonna’ take the job."
“You know. Coaching is a lot different than playing,” dad counseled.
Dave asked, “What do you mean?”
“Do you think it was always easy coaching you and your friends over the years?”
Walter would coach the guys during the summer in leagues and was never shy about giving his input to Coach Doherty, who had no choice but to appease his star’s father. The elder Abrahams was also was a wealth of basketball knowledge, so having an extra pair of educated eyes benefited the team, but sometimes put a strain on the relationship.
Dave’s dad really wasn’t interested in discussing how Dave would approach his fiancée with such a potential life change. Haley had a plan in mind: marriage, move to Westchester, kids, play groups, spending uncontrollably, comfortable retirement in Arizona. Dave’s plan was much simpler and more direct: WIN!
It was about 4:30 in the afternoon by the time Walter pulled up in front of Dave’s apartment building.
“Call us when you get a chance,” Walter said as he showed some emotion in his face for a change.
Dave had never seen his father cry, or show much weakness at all except for spontaneous anger. The prospect of his son returning to their glory days gave Walt moist eyes like the end of the movie “Field of Dreams.”
Walt got out of the car and hugged and kissed his son.
“Thanks for driving me back, dad. I’ll see you in a few days.”
Dave slung his bag over his left shoulder and started walking to his building. When he left Friday night, the first thing he did was turn off his cell phone. That damn thing never seemed to give him a moment’s peace.
He walked through the front door, which was held by Michael the doorman, and instantly saw Haley getting out of the elevator.
She spotted him and said, “David! There you are!”
Directly behind Haley was her meddling, annoying, divorced mother, Constance, or Connie as she was called. Dave had another “c” word that he called her in his private thoughts.
They approached Dave and he gave Connie the same air kiss that she supplied.
“My mom and I were going out to get a bite to eat. I left you like 10 messages. Did you forget to bring your phone?”
Dave lifted his phone out of his pocket and replied, “I had it all weekend, but I forgot to turn it on.”
The women gasped.
“How was your school thing?” Haley said as she was putting the finishing touches on her coffin.
“My school thing was just fine. Why don’t you go ahead to the early bird special without me? I’m gonna’ go up and take a shower and relax.”
“Do you want me to bring you back anything?” Haley asked.
“Nah, I was kind of in the mood for Ray’s. I’ll take a walk down the block later.”
“Ray’s?” Connie said in her most effected phony accent. “Is that the new soul Asian fusion restaurant?”
“No. I was talking about Ray’s Pizza on the corner.”
The women gasped again.
Haley gave Dave a peck on the cheek and said, “Toodles. I’ll fill you in on the place we found later.”
“Those chocolate ganache pancakes were to die for,” Connie said as they started walking away.
“Yeah, I especially liked the one…” Haley said as their voices faded into the distance.
Once they were gone, Dave turned to Michael and asked, “Does she ever say thank you?”
Michael was hesitant to slip out of character.
“C’mon Mike. I’ll be gone in the morning,” Dave implored the doorman to speak frankly.
Miguel, a proud thirty-something Puerto Rican man in a white man’s world broke down and said in his best Hispanic accent, “To tell you the truth, jefe, that bitch is cold. Hace frio, my brother.”
The guys exchanged a brotherly handshake and a chest bump, and Dave was off to gather his things. Three hours, two slices of pizza, one meatball hero, and three beers later, Haley stepped back into the apartment and was instantly confused.
“David! What is all your stuff doing in the living room? I don’t believe we scheduled a fall cleaning.”
Dave came out of the bathroom, fresh off a major deposit, spraying profusely with awful potpourri-scented air freshener.
Haley waved her hand in front of her nose and said, “Can you spray a little bit more?” She then looked over to the pizza box and commented, “Do you know how many calories are in that stuff?”
He came out of the bathroom with a look on his face that she had never seen before. It was the sort of defiance that men had to leave at the door if they were to be with a Ziegler woman – or at least that’s what Haley’s mom said – but that was probably before her father left her mother for another, more accepting woman.
“What happened to you this weekend?” she said in a disgusted tone.
“I saw my future.” Dave replied.
“What does that mean? Did you meet another woman?”
He muttered, “That would be a real stretch.”
“Well, did you sleep with one of those loose Long Island girls?” Haley said in a preachy, scolding manner.
He was enraged, “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”
She stepped toward him and wagged her right index finger, “Don’t you take that tone with me, mister!
The beer was definitely talking when he said, “Haley, there is somebody I’d like you to meet.” He pulled down his shorts and let them drop to the floor, “Haley, this is my penis. Penis, this is Haley.”
She switched from anger to desperation when the thought of no wedding crashed into her like a wayward bike messenger. The fake, caring Haley emerged, “I found a great place for us to get married inside of Chelsea Pier.”
Dave pulled up his shorts and quickly put an end to such matrimonial talk, “I’m quitting my job first thing in the morning so I can go back to Bailey Woods and take over the team.”
She was frantic, “Quitting your job? What team?
I feel faint.”
He said, “You don’t love me anyway.”
She regained her composure while seated in the tub chair, “What’s love got to do with it?”
Dave nodded his head, “Exactly, Tina Turner. It’s everything.”
The discussion went on for the next half-hour until Haley finally gave up. Dave put his left hand out and demanded, “The ring, please.”
The warmth of the day had swelled her left finger a bit, but Haley begrudgingly forced he ring off her finger. She started crying as she handed him the ring, but his heart had already grown cold.
“Everything happens for a reason,” he said as he slipped the ring into his pocket.
Dave went into work the next day expecting to give his notice that he was quitting. There was a buzz in the air as he reached his office at 8:00 a.m. One of Dave’s office friends, Jim Morton, walked in and said, “So, what are you going to do?”
Dave was in the dark, so he replied, “About what?”
“About the merger.”
Dave was still searching for the switch to turn on the light, “What merger?”
“Where were you all weekend? I called you 20 times?”
Dave finally turned his phone on – the readout informed him that he had 45 messages. He then turned the phone off.
“Oh yeah, Haley told me you had that high school thing,” Jim explained.
Dave did a double take, “What were you doing talking to Haley?”
“I couldn’t get in touch with you, so I called her number.”
“How did you get her number?” Dave asked.
Jim scrambled, “You must have given it to me.”
The light finally went on in Dave’s head, “You’re sleeping with Haley?”
“C’mon, Dave! Don’t be ridiculous!”
“Who do I talk to so I can get the fuck out of here? Get the hell out of my office and send that person in here, now, before I lose my mind!”
A few seconds later, a Human Resources specialist named Tammy walked in:
“What can I help you with, Mr. Abrahams?”
Dave cut to the chase, “We’re getting bought out?”
She replied, “Yes.”
“Are they offering packages to leave?”
She smiled, “Yes, I hear they will.”
“Send a check to this address,” he said as he scribbled down an address and then handed her a piece of paper.
“It might take a few months,” she added.
Dave smiled and replied, “No problem. Thank you.”
