by Jim Sano
“Hey, I bought the beer and hot dogs! We just talked like we had known each other for years, and by the time the Sox had officially buried the season and I got home, it was pretty late. I’m sorry for not sending you a note or calling. There was just something—I don’t think he is a rich guy by a long shot but—I don’t know. I really can’t put my finger on it.”
When dinner came, and the sunset had finished painting the sky with shades of pink and purple that fascinated Jillian, the movie played. It was Jimmy Stewart and Jean Arthur in You Can’t Take It With You, a fun, wacky kind of comedy classic in black and white. Jillian’s eyes lit up as she watched it. The irony was not lost on David—enjoying the little things in life versus the pursuit of money, status, power, and prestige.
“That’s it!” David blurted out, then quickly lowered his head as Jillian looked at him to see what happened.
“That’s what? Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Sorry. It just hit me what it is about Tom that’s different.”
“Well, what is it?”
He wrinkled his brow. “I’m not sure, but in the movie, Grandpa Vanderhof reminds me a little of Tom.”
“Tom reminds you of a grandfather?”
David laughed. “No. What do you notice about Grandpa Vanderhof’s character?”
“I like him. He seems to get it. He puts his granddaughter and daughter ahead of anything else. He seems free.”
David said, again more loudly than he intended, “That’s it! I think that’s what hit me when I was talking with Tom. He seemed free from all the things that the rest of us have hanging around our necks like a heavy horse collar. He seemed present and at peace with himself and made me feel as if I were the only thing on his mind when he was with me.” He waved a hand at the screen. “Vanderhof didn’t seem to have any of the things that the guys I know spend their whole lives building, but he seemed happier.”
“It’s only a movie.”
“I know. I know. It was just interesting knowing there was something I couldn’t describe and then seeing something like it in action—well, in the movie.”
With the movie over, they walked hand-in-hand around the harbor. It was getting late, and instead of walking back to his car, he called a number and within a few minutes a limo pulled up to the curb where they were standing. David held open the door and Jillian turned as she stepped in. “Hey, Mister. You know this is supposed to be my date night plan. No fair trying to top me on the same night.”
David slid in beside her then turned to Jillian. “I couldn’t think of a nicer evening or a more fun way to spend it. A-plus for you all the way. I loved every second.”
She gave him a kiss and put her head on his shoulder for the ride home. He didn’t ask to come in or stay. He told her how beautiful her eyes were and kissed her. He asked if she might be up for driving down to the Cape in the morning since the weather looked promising.
She nodded. “I’ll be packed tonight,” she said and headed toward the door of her apartment. He waited until she had gone into her apartment and turned on the lights before he headed home.
David was back early the next morning to pick up Jillian in a red Jeep to spend the weekend at his house in Dennis Port. Jillian loved how beautiful David’s Cape-style house was located on the Bass River with lush landscaping and its own dock and boat. The weekend was fun spending time boating, swimming, playing golf, hiking the dunes, and playing games at night. Along the way, David had evaded questions from Jillian about his past, and part of him was almost relieved that they left early on Labor Day Monday for him to catch an evening flight for a Tuesday morning meeting in Chicago.
Chapter 8
Three days later, after a fruitful business trip followed by a day of in-house meetings, David woke up conflicted about following his rigid routine. The day moved quickly from meeting to meeting. There was a follow-up call with the Chicago team and the customer agreed to move forward with a formal proposal, a huge win for the company. Kevin Walsh dropped by and David glanced up at the clock that read ten minutes to four. “What can I do for you, Walshy?”
Kevin sat back on one of David’s couches. “Nothing in particular. I had a break in my schedule and wanted to see how you were doing. You know what today is, don’t you?”
“It’s Wednesday as far as I know. If Oakland wins tonight, it would be a record twenty games in a row? The winner of American Idol is announced tonight. I give up, what day is it?”
Kevin stared at David as if he were looking through him. “It’s September fourth. It’s one week before the anniversary of September 11. I keep thinkin’ about it and can’t get it out of my mind. It keeps me up at night. Doesn’t it keep you up at night?”
David knew this would be a long conversation he didn’t want to start now. It was almost four. “Kev, how about if we go out tomorrow night, just you and I, and have a beer? This sounds like its weighing heavy on you.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Kevin replied as he pushed himself to stand. “Let’s catch up tomorrow.”
After a quick change into his basketball shorts, tee-shirt, and shoes, he reached the street and hurried toward the Back Bay Fens not knowing if Tom would even be there. He stretched then started his shouting routine while keeping an eye out for anyone sneaking up on him. Just as David thought his opponent wouldn’t show, he saw Tom walking across the field toward the basketball courts. “Well, well, well. How many middle-aged businessmen have time to play basketball on a Wednesday afternoon? Good to see you again, David. Did you come by to watch me shoot or did you want to buy me another beer?”
David smiled, took a shot well beyond the three-point arc and was dead on. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
Tom took his shot from the same spot and swished it. “Ready.”
David bounced the ball to Tom. “Your ball.”
The game went back and forth. David was using several of the moves he worked on earlier and hit some tough shots to take a big lead that led to winning the first game. The second game was tight, but Tom won on the last shot. David kept taking mental notes of Tom’s strengths and tendencies but there was always something new he hadn’t seen before. Any action close to the basket was physical and aggressive as neither wanted to give up on any play or loose ball. They traded wins in the next two games and started the tie-breaker fifth game again. David was determined to win this game, despite an early deficit. Finally, Tom had the ball with a one-point lead. He drove hard toward the basket and went straight up against David’s tough defensive attempt to block the shot, but it went through and Tom was the winner again.
There was unexpected applause from a bunch of guys who had been watching the contest with interest. Both Tom and David bowed, breathing deeply as the sweat dripped down off their brows.
Tom put his hand on David’s shoulder. “Good game, David.”
“And better game, Tom. I suppose you’re thirsty.”
As they walked off the court, a player watching said, “Hey, Trev. I thought these guys said they would come back this week and whup your butt. Didn’t they?”
Trevon was holding his worn basketball and nodding his head. “I do recall something like that.”
David was exhausted and a little disappointed when Tom jumped in. “I think it was exactly like that.”
Trevon smiled, knowing he and any other player he picked would be half the age of these two tired old men. “So what ya willing to play for?”
Tom pointed to Trevon’s ball. “One game to eleven, winner takes the other’s ball and is King of the Fens.”
Trevon called out to the best player, Big Russ. Big Russ was a half-foot taller than David, young, and agile.
Trevon stood at the top of the key with Tom’s basketball in hand. He passed it to David with force, saying with a confident smile, “When you’re ready.”
Tom was leaning on Big Russ to make sure he did not get too close to the basket for an easy pass and dunk. Tom was ready to play, and the competitive juices
energized David. He bounced the ball to Trevon, who shot past him like a lightning bolt and scooped a pass to Russ as Tom slid across to stop Trevon from getting an easy layup. Big Russ caught the floating pass and dunked the ball with ease and power through the metal net. Everyone watching made a loud cheer, and one person yelled out, “Ouch. New basketball for Trev!”
David checked the ball again to Trevon, who without hesitation, hoisted a jump shot and sank it. Tom whispered something in David’s ear. David overplayed to Trevon’s right, forcing Trevon to go to his weaker left side while trying to use Big Russ as a screen to take an easy shot. David rolled right behind Big Russ, and Tom shot out and stole the ball from Trevon. Tom cleared the ball and lobbed it to David under the basket for a quick layup just under Big Russ’s block attempt.
After several exchanges, the score was tied nine to nine, and Tom seemed to notice the return of the frustration on Trevon’s face and the ragging he was taking from the sidelines. This was important to Trevon in ways that Tom could see in his silent and focused determination not to let David score on him. David drove right and made a smooth pass back to Tom at the top of the key, but it went through Tom’s open hands. Trevon quickly caught up to the loose ball and drove to the basket for a difficult layup that missed, but Big Russ had rebounded and dunked it in with two hands. Trevon coolly took the ball from David and nailed a quick jump shot without hesitation—to the cheers of the bystanders. Tom shook Trevon’s hand and presented him with his favorite leather ball. Trevon looked at Tom with respect but didn’t ask the question that was obviously on his mind as he then jumped up and down. “Big Russ, who are the Kings of the Fens? We are!”
Exhausted, David and Tom picked up their things and headed off the court. David said, “I still owe you a beer, even if you did miss that pass. Are you still thirsty, Mr. Fitzpatrick?”
“I am, indeed, Mr. Kelly. Very thirsty. I know a good pub a few streets over that should work.”
As they walked out of the park, it struck David that his office overlooked the Back Bay Fens basketball courts. His eye had always skipped past the park to look over at Fenway, but there was the Pru Tower staring down at him from several blocks away. They stopped in front of a pub with the name Dempsey’s over the green door. There were windows on each side of the door and the inside looked like an inviting pub. It didn’t look like the many bars that David had passed on his walk home as a teenager from his summer job at General Electric. Those narrow bars were dark and without cheer as men came to drink until they drowned their worries and disappointments in the least expensive whiskey or rum available. While the doors might’ve been open for a curious peak, there was nothing David saw that ever made him want to enter and quietly sit for hours in one of these darkened sedation rooms.
Dempsey’s had a different feel. The old wooden booths looked like they had hosted many celebrations and friendly debates. The owner stood behind the bar with a towel draped over his left shoulder and a smile on his face as he conversed with the three men sitting with half full Guinness drafts in front of them. Dempsey nodded to Tom as he entered, and Tom pointed to an empty booth around the corner from the door. As they settled their tired bodies into their respective sides of the booth, Dempsey came over. “Hello, Tom.”
Tom responded with a bit of an Irish brogue, “Ah, it’s Himself. Meet my good friend, David Kelly. He will be buyin’ tonight.”
Dempsey smiled. “Good to meet you, David Kelly. Your man here is a hard one to beat and has rarely had to spend a penny in this establishment over the years. So, what will you have?”
David said, “I know. I will have a half-and-half and Mr. Fitzpatrick can have whatever he pleases tonight.”
Tom smiled. “Make that two, two for me that is.”
David let the flavor of his first sip settle on his taste buds. “I could’ve sworn I had you tonight.”
Tom enjoyed a long sip of his beer. “Now, I couldn’t let that happen. If I did, you’d have no reason to come back next week since you’d have beaten me. You’re too busy a man to be taking off to play games every Wednesday afternoon without incentive.”
David let the cold beer slide down his throat, nodded and smiled. “Next time you are buying, and I’ll be very thirsty indeed.”
Tom replied, “Do you mean I should plan on bringing money next week?” He pulled his pockets inside out to show that he hadn’t thought he needed to bring any tonight.
David smirked. “You don’t have a basketball either since that pass slipped through your hands. We had that game. What was up with missing that pass? It almost looked like you missed it on purpose.”
Tom shrugged. “Must’ve just been a bad pass.”
“That pass was on the money, and from what I’ve seen, you don’t miss good passes.”
David liked the warm feeling and friendly atmosphere of the pub and he felt at home. There were posters on the wall about the Irish Sessions music on Thursday nights and Sunday afternoons, and pictures of places Dempsey had visited and sports teams he sponsored. David was in no rush to go anywhere as he and Tom talked and the Red Sox at the Yankees game played on the small TV over the bar. A loss tonight would pretty much seal the Sox’s fate for another season. Of course, it had only been eighty-five years since the Red Sox had last won a World Series.
David looked off into space after turning away from the game. Tom smiled. “You are thinking about it, aren’t you?”
David replied, “Thinking about what?”
“The game and names that won’t be mentioned. Don’t tell me you don’t think about it every time we get to this time of the season and we have to wait through another long winter with hope for next year.”
“How the heck did you know that?”
“I know the look.”
David wondered what else he could tell about him without a word.
David said, “Okay, how about your favorite sports moments?”
Tom replied, “All right, I will give you one, then you give me one and we will see which one was the best. We are both about the same age, so the ’67 Sox would be too early.”
“I bet if Tony C hadn’t been beaned and out for the season, they would’ve won for sure. You’re still up.”
“How about the Celtics beating the Suns in a finals triple overtime game?”
“When Havlicek hit that leaning jumper at the end of the second overtime, I was sure he won by one point and the game was over, but Richie Powers put one second back on the clock and was attacked by a fan.”
Tom laughed, “Great memory.”
“I will have to say the 1970 Bruins when Bobby Orr hit that winning shot against the St. Louis Blues. Bobby, Espo, Cheevers, Bucyk, Hodge, Smith, Cashman, and Stanfield.”
“Game 6, 1975 World Series game in Fenway against the Cincinnati Reds. They were on the brink of losing in game six until Bernie Carbo hit the tying home run in the eighth, and then Fiske hits the walk-off home run over the Monster and just to the right of the foul pole.”
David smiled. “Hard to argue. I loved watching Luis Tiant win Game Four in that series after throwing 173 pitches. Nobody does that anymore. I think you’re in the lead again. How about either the 1986 Celtics, with Bird for a Celtics’ championship, or wait, the 2002 first Patriots’ Super Bowl win with Brady against the Rams that no one expected?”
Tom jumped in, “Hey, wait a minute, you can’t just start throwing out multiple nominations in one turn,” and then laughed. “We’ve been blessed with some great moments in Boston.” They both turned to the Sox game on the TV and saw they were losing by a 3-1 score and said in unison, “And some not so great moments.”
They talked more about their game as they drained their beers, then moved out of their comfortable seats to pay the bill.
David reached for his wallet and Dempsey put out his hand. “This is your first time in my home. No charge—” Then, after a hesitation, he continued, “—for your beers, but you still owe me for his.” Everyone laughed. On their way out th
e door, they said goodbye to the remaining guys still watching the game.
Dempsey said, “Hey, you forgot something.”
David and Tom turned to see what they were missing, and Dempsey said, “1980 Olympic Hockey team with Craig, Silk, O’Callahan, and Eruzone from Boston, Hagler-Hearns match in ’85, and Marciano-Jersey Joe Walcott in ’52.”
Tom responded, “Demps, you aren’t even old enough to remember 1952.” He laughed and followed David out to the quiet sidewalk in front of the pub. The evening had cooled and there was a light sprinkle. Tom shook David’s hand and patted him on the back. “I’m really glad you came by tonight, and no, not just for the free beers. I enjoy your company and your game. I may need you to help me get my ball back.”
“Only if you hold onto my pass next time. Do you need a ride home?”
“No, no, no. Thanks, but I don’t have far to go. You take care getting home yourself.”
He headed north while David headed east to retrieve his car from the Pru parking lot.
The rain had picked up a little more and David was dripping on the floor when he stepped into his front foyer to be greeted by Trooper. David put his free hand on Trooper’s frame, patting his fur. “Good job. Hey, we had a good evening tonight, even though we were not victorious against the great Tom.” He showered, put his clothes out for work, and got ready for bed. He felt good and slept soundly, forgetting again to call or text Jillian good night.
Chapter 9
David took advantage of a rest day from his usual running routine and took Trooper for a morning walk before heading into the office.
“Good morning, Mr. Kelly. I hope you had a good afternoon and evening yesterday?”
“I did. Thanks for asking and how about yourself?”
“If you like cooking, cleaning, helping with homework, topped off with the best hugs ever from three darlings, then I had a great evening too.”
