by Rex Bolt
“What are you talking about?” Jerry said.
They played just as hard as current guys did, Pike was convinced, but this level of 1989 ball was bad. Not to mention, there was no imagination. Most plays went straight up the middle, and the quarterbacks threw the ball only occasionally.
Pike said, “It’s like they need a jump start. No one’s playing to win, they’re playing not to lose.”
Jerry waved his hand like Pike didn’t know what he was talking about, and Pike started zeroing in on number 34 Jeff Geraghty. He found him pretty quick out there because he was making plays and the announcer had been calling his name. Jeff wasn’t a real big guy but he had one of those motors that kept running in 5th gear, the kind of player coaches love.
He was playing linebacker on defense and rotating in at fullback when they had the ball. Galileo was scrappy, kind of like Jeff himself, and they engineered a goal line stand and at halftime led 12 - 7 over Lowell.
Pike went underneath the stands to the snack bar and got a snow cone, and there was a trailer that acted as the visitor’s locker room, and you could see some of the Galileo kids sitting in there on their little stools.
There were parents milling around, like they were going give them a cheer or a boost when they came out of the locker room for the second half, and Pike realized with sudden alarm that Henry was standing there with his and Jeff’s parents.
The guy was thinner and a bit more animated maybe, but otherwise he didn’t look that different.
He wouldn’t know Pike, obviously, but there was something about making contact with the guy, even eye contact, that didn’t feel right. Pike got out of there quick, and walked around to the Lowell side.
Lowell had the same set up, a trailer for their locker room too, but a bigger one. And the same deal with the parents, waiting to root the players on when they came back out.
Which they did momentarily, and there was some clapping and some big Yays and some Go Cardinals, and the players were back on the field loosening up for the 2nd half, and the parents were climbing back up into the stands.
The announcer started up and you could faintly hear the referee’s whistle, and then the band got real loud and the fans went into their kickoff count-down routine, and the game was underway again.
Except Pike was still under the stands, outside the Lowell locker room.
Hmm . . .
He thought about it for a couple minutes, trying to keep the big picture in mind.
Then he went up the three little steps and poked his head inside the trailer, looked around, and asked if anyone was there.
There was some major cheering from this side of the field, which meant Lowell either scored or made a big play, and some people were stomping on the bleachers in rhythm.
No one answered Pike that they were there, so he walked inside the locker room.
His first thought, which he shouldn’t have been worrying about right now but couldn’t help it was, Jeez, they got no security around here, I could clean the whole place out.
There weren’t any actual lockers he could see, or any other place where you could lock up your stuff, it was just one wide open room with these cheap pressboard panels that tried to create little separated cubbies for the players.
In plain sight right now he could see at least three wallets and a couple of watches, but obviously that wasn’t why he was here.
There were over-sized red duffel bags with white L’s on them back near the rear exit, and Pike started picking through them. He found three helmets, all looking like they needed some repair, with the facemask loose on one and broken on another and missing on the third.
He picked up the first one and worked it onto his head. It was little tight and the facemask wobbled around, but it should work.
Then he hunted around for a pair of shoulder pads. There was only one pair of those, and it was almost in two pieces and you probably couldn’t make that work, without a bunch of tape at least, but then Pike spotted a pair in one of the cubbies that looked fine.
All he needed now was a jersey and pants, and there was a jersey hanging on a hook right in front of his nose. The pants were a problem, but he picked through some stuff and eventually found a pair balled up near the one toilet they had in the place, and this didn’t bode well, but Pike cautiously picked them up and inspected them and they didn’t seem that bad.
There were a couple of problems. One, he didn’t have a pair of cleats. He didn’t see any laying around, and even if he did it would be hit or miss with the size. So he was going to have deal with this with what he had on, which were some off-brand imitation Nike’s that he’d picked up on sale at Target that were okay for walking around but that was about it.
The other thing, how do you handle it with the clothes you’re wearing? Do you come back and get them, and take the time to change again, or what?
Pike wasn’t sure, how it might or might not play out. So what he did, he put on the equipment and the uniform and hung up what he was wearing in one of the cubbies, doubling up on some kid’s stuff that was hanging there . . . except he didn’t leave his wallet, he stuffed that into his uniform pants, along with his keys too, unfortunately. He was thinking he’d been an idiot to bring his keys, what would you need them for . . . but it was what it was.
According to the scoreboard clock above the far end zone, there were 3 minutes and 19 seconds left in the third quarter when Pike popped his head, helmet and all now, out from under the Lowell stands and checked out the action.
Lowell had the ball and was driving, and they were pounding it up the middle, picking up 5 yards a shot, real boring football still. 34 wasn’t in the game at the moment for Galileo and Pike spotted him across the field on the sideline, watching, but down on one knee . . . Unreal. Could Jeff be injured somehow, and not be going back in? Which would be a disaster at this point, not to mention a totally unexpected twist . . . but two plays later one of the coaches motioned to him and he bolted up and charged back on the field, full speed ahead, and Pike could relax that he was fine and they’d just been giving him a little breather.
Lowell got it inside the 10, and then made the curious decision of trying to pass the ball, even though Galileo sure didn’t look like they could stop the simple running game at this point. The Lowell quarterback didn’t seem all that comfortable throwing to his left, and that’s where they went with it, some sort of mis-direction play that looked out of synch from the start, and one of the Galileo backs picked it off and cake-walked 90 yards the other way for a touchdown.
The Lowell kids were deflated by that, and trailed in the game now and the stands were subdued as well. Meanwhile Pike, not exactly running but moving at a reasonable pace that hopefully wouldn’t attract any special attention, made his way to the Lowell sideline.
He remembered his number from the jersey being 86, and hoped that wouldn’t attract any undue attention either, along of course with the street shoes that were badly out of place.
The Galileo placekicker teed the ball up and Lowell trotted out the return team, and Pike looked around and thank God there was Jeff was on the kicking team, like he figured he might be, lining up on the right side of the formation, the third guy in from the sideline ready to race downfield and make the tackle.
The Lowell band cued up their kickoff drill, not as loud this time, and the kid laid his foot into the ball and it was in the air, and Pike raced onto the field and made a beeline for Jeff who was angling toward the Lowell kid who caught it, and Pike barrelled into Jeff, careful not to hit up around the head, but Jeff went down like a shot nonetheless, and Pike had a vivid flashback to when he laid out Anthony on that night when it all began and couldn’t quite believe it.
Someone made the tackle and the play was over, and the whole place got real silent, and soon the trainers from both teams were on the field tending to Jeff, and the Lowell coaches were all out there too, and Pike noticed Henry and his parents hustling out there from the stands.
It
was the weirdest thing to be thinking at that moment, but Pike found himself wondering what Jerry thought of the whole thing, the guy from Berkeley who drove him here, who he’d essentially abandoned at halftime . . . doubtful he’d realize Pike was involved, but not out the question.
He stood there for a minute, frozen in place like everyone else, and then he decided it’d be a good idea to get a move on.
There was an ambulance standing by in the parking lot, which was standard at football games, and good to see that was case even back in ‘89, and as the thing drove onto the field, kind of wobbling it way on the beat up turf, no siren on but the red light spinning, this seemed like the right time to head the other way, out into that same parking lot where it came from, and fast.
In other words, not a good option at this point to duck back into the Lowell trailer-locker room and get rid of the football gear and pick up your regular clothes. Yeah, you’d blend in better if you could switch it back up, but too much risk getting caught.
So Pike crossed the parking lot, and trotted out the gate that the cars used. One guy spotted him, some old guy who was relieving himself in the bushes it looked like, but didn’t he seem to have any reaction and went back to his business.
Pike had no idea where to go, so he headed toward where there were the least amount of lights, and a few blocks away surprisingly was a big lake, Lake Merced, though he didn’t know what it was called. He stuck to the sidewalk path around the lake and about a half mile down there was a little turnout that went down to the edge of the lake, and there were some benches and a couple of industrial garbage cans, and Pike jammed the helmet, the shoulder pads and the jersey into them, though it wasn’t all that easy.
Now he was running around in his T-shirt and the gold football pants, which came down to the bottom of his knees and did not present a particularly subtle look. But you had to at least leave those on, otherwise you were in your boxers and then someone would call the police on you for sure.
The ideal thing would be to stick around overnight and get an update on Jeff, and Pike considered that. In fact that’s what he assumed he’d doing this week, sticking around and figuring out some other way to screw up Jeff . . . before his brain kicked in and he improvised to Plan B . . . and of course that only happened because he’d noticed Henry at the snackbar on the Galileo side and didn’t want to be running into him.
His new friend Jerry on the way over here had told him about a hostel at Fort Mason, ironically very close to Galileo high school, but a long way from here now, since Lowell was on the other side of the city.
The reason to stick around was a) make sure you did a sufficient job on Jeff and he wasn’t going to be able to play next week, and b) make sure you didn’t kill Jeff out there just now.
But Pike was tired and there comes a point where you’ve got to go with your gut . . . which it seemed he’d told himself in one of his other ventures recently, though he couldn’t remember what the situation was there . . . but either way the hope here was he’d broken some of Jeff’s ribs.
Ribs were a tough thing to play through. Pike in the Ridgley game his junior year, way before he found his new strength, when he was just an average safety platooning with another guy, cracked one.
You taped it up and all that but it was rough. It hurt to even take a deep breath. In Jeff’s case, there was hopefully widespread damage involved, to multiple ribs. It wouldn’t be the worst thing if he had to spend a night or two in the hospital, since then for sure, no doctor would permit him to play.
What Pike had been worried about was there would be another game after next week’s one. Anthony, when he told the story, said Jeff’s accident happened in the championship game, which would sort of explain why they stuck Jeff back in at the end even though he was on a gimpy ankle.
That didn’t sit right with Pike, the season being over that early, but Jeff confirmed it on the car ride over, that there were a couple incidents this season, one of them a bench-clearing brawl between two teams, and the league stepped in and cancelled the playoffs which normally took place in November.
Sitting there in the dark by the lake for a minute, Pike felt a little like he was ducking out of a play before you got to Act 3 . . . which he actually did at Hamilton last spring, when he’d told a bunch of people he’d come to their performance of Hair, which about a hundred of them had been working on for months, but it was so bad and so much of the singing was off-key that Pike slipped out of there with about twenty minutes to go, and of course at school on Monday told everyone how great it was.
There were some bright lights not too far away, and Pike followed them, and they ran you into that Stonestown mall that Jerry had mentioned.
The place was pretty much shut down except for some bar-restaurants, and Pike took a walk around the perimeter, scoping it out for any pre-1956 opportunities.
Unfortunately the place looked a little too modern, as did the whole neighborhood near Lowell High School for that matter, and none of it felt like an original part of San Francisco but more an afterthought.
There were a couple guys setting something up though, in one of the open areas that fed into the stores. There was a little stage being raised, and all the outdoor tables and chairs were being pulled out of there.
Pike asked one of them what was going on and the guy told him a car show. Pike said tonight? And the guy looked at him like was an idiot and said no, tomorrow. Pike asked what kind of car show, and the guy said a classic one, and went back to work.
Pike thought that might be interesting and wanted to ask the guy, did the cars start showing up early . . . remembering when they had these deals from time to time in Beacon guys would start rolling in early, sometimes real early, to get the best spot or whatever advantage they were shooting for.
It didn’t take that long, maybe an hour, before an old T-Bird showed up, followed by a ‘56 Chevy, and then an old hot rod a lot older than that, with the rumble seat in back . . . A guy and his wife in that one, both of them having fun, the guy with a baseball cap on that had pins and decorations all over it.
They got out and asked one of the set-up guys a question, and the guy pointed across the mall, and the man and wife headed that way.
Pike watched them go. He casually tried the passenger door of the roadster, got in, closed the door, and no one seemed to notice a thing as he went into his mind control routine and high-tailed it back to Beacon.
Chapter 15
This time he wasn’t so lucky though. He didn’t make it exactly to Beacon, much less back into The Box, which would have been the cleanest way . . . although it’s possible Hannamaker could still be using it, and have his friend with him too, since Pike had to remind himself that only an hour had ticked off in Beacon time since he’d departed under the surprise pressure of Jack showing up.
Where he ended up this time was in the weeds along the side of the service road, out by the Interstate, about a quarter mile from In-n-Out.
This had to be because he was hungry, and that must have overridden everything else, even though he didn’t want it to.
Part of it, he assumed, was his darn feet had been wet all day since he started off in the swimming pool near Memorial Stadium. His shoes hadn’t come close to drying out at all, and every step he took he could hear the sponginess of the water in there.
This, combined with some of the other unexpected proceedings he’d found himself in the middle of, most particularly playing in a football game, at least for one play, must have upped his metabolism.
The thing now, since he was here anyway . . . should you go in and eat?
He confirmed that he still had the wallet and the keys wedged into the football pants . . . and that was another thing, the Lowell team pants that he’d hijacked had survived the trip . . . so what other ramifications might that suggest? You could pick up anything you wanted in the past and bring it forward? Or you had to be wearing it? Or it had to be under a certain size, or what? You couldn’t obviously bring back
a car or something, for instance.
Forget this for now, Jeez.
Pike went ahead and got out of the weeds and walked to In-n-Out and ate. It was right around 2, a busy Saturday, people coming in in waves, including some kids’ sports teams, and once he got in there he was comfortable the uniform pants weren’t attracting any unusual attention.
Though at the end, as he was finishing up, three sophomore girls came in that he recognized and they started giggling and looking at him funny. Two of them had been playing tennis with Hailey that time when Pike rode the bicycle over to the high school courts and intercepted her, which fed a few hours later into the failed attempt to keep Mrs. Milburn from walking Mark.
The odd part was, this third girl now, Pike recognized her from Henry’s SUV when they’d picked him up hitchhiking. Which meant she went to Bellemeade . . . so what the heck was she doing palling around with the other two?
It wasn’t worth trying to figure out . . . What he could use them for, any of the three, was borrowing their phone. Since he hadn’t brought his with him to Berkeley.
They tried to play difficult and asked him what he needed it for, but one of the tennis girls handed hers over . . . Now who to call? It seemed a little rude to bother Hannamaker, so Pike tried Marty Clarke but couldn’t reach him. Who else? So he figured why not Anthony, since they were getting along pretty well and the guy seemed agreeable.
Without any fanfare, Anthony said he’d be there in 20 minutes.
Pike waited out front. This was going be kind of a trip, having to explain his current get-up to Anthony. Whatever he’d come up, no matter how creative, it wouldn’t matter . . . The main thing, the big picture which he hadn’t let himself absorb yet, he was back, safe, and maybe did something good.
And if he didn’t . . . if his little maneuver up there on the football field hadn’t taken somehow, he didn’t want to know about it yet. Put a little distance on the situation, then in due time check with Henry and see what the story was . . . but not too quick, why be discouraged right away if it didn’t go through?
