Read Online The Legend of Jesse Smoke by Robert Bausch - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Robert Bausch
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don’t want to get sappy, but … you should have seen it. They weren’t just high fiving each other and grabbing one another around the neck; they didn’t howl or shout or slap anybody on the ass. They were just joyful together. Does that describe it? You have to see it to believe it, but it was almost as if they could know each other’s thoughts without words, so it was all conveyed through tearful smiles and knowing glances.
They had a few bottles of champagne—courtesy of Andy and the team owners—but they drank the stuff, you know? They didn’t pour it over anybody’s head or anything. The owners were a couple of government lawyers whose names I’ve long since forgotten, but they congratulated each of the players who had made “impact” plays, and of course they were all over themselves in their praise of Jesse. Then Andy introduced me to everybody and I shook hands with the two lawyers, and one of them, who wore a long dress and very pointed black shoes, wouldn’t let go of my hand until she’d finished tellingme all she remembered of that season we went to the Super Bowl and lost. She was pretty sure we’d have won that game, she said, if we’d only used the clock better. (We lost by one point, remember.) When she let go of my hand and held her champagne glass high, Andy and all the players cheered. In spite of the lack of horseplay and rowdiness, it was a genuine championship celebration and I was suddenly very proud to be a part of it—if only a very small one, admittedly. I put my arms around Jesse and said, “You played a great game.”
Then she said something I couldn’t hear very well because of the noise. I shouted, “How’s it feel to be a champion?”
“I like it.”
“You really were terrific,” I said.
Then I figured out what she must have said before, because she said the same thing, only a lot louder: “I was good in the first half.”
“You controlled the team, Jesse. You led them.”
She smiled, then tipped her glass to the women behind her. “Here’s to a great bunch of gals,” she said, allowing herself a moment of merriment. Everybody cheered.
“I thought you hated that word,” I said, elbowing her.
She winked at me. “For Andy’s benefit.”
And then Andy hugged her, leaning back and lifting her a bit off the floor, getting mud all over the front of his Oxford shirt. When he put Jesse down, she accidentally spilled a little of her champagne on him.
“Oops. I’m sorry,” she said, laughing, trying to brush it off the front of him, whereupon he took the glass from her ever so gently, held it up high, and poured it over his own head. Everybody cheered. “ This is how you celebrate,” he said, the bubbly dripping off his brow. “God bless all of you. I love every one of you.” It really was a triumphant moment.
A lot of the players were crying now. Hell, I almost got a few tears in my eyes. I looked at Jesse, at the way she stood there, her legs slightly apart, her arms dangling now by her sides, the light glitteringin her eyes, and knew I had to do everything I could to protect her from any sort of harm. She was fatherless in a big world and people would want to exploit her and use her. She was so damned bright-eyed about everything. She loved football, and maybe didn’t even know just how talented she really was. It was all just competition to her, and fun. She didn’t know how cold it would get when the world knew what she could do.
And it was right then when I realized how damn serious I was about her; it was then that I made up my mind that I would bring her to camp and some way, somehow, get her on the field to let everyone see what she could do. If I had told anyone what I was thinking at that moment, they would have thought I was crazy. Probably I was.
And suddenly the whole future seemed in equal parts frightening, exciting, and, though I wouldn’t have been able to say quite why, sad.
Seven
I’d gotten to know Jesse pretty well during
They had a few bottles of champagne—courtesy of Andy and the team owners—but they drank the stuff, you know? They didn’t pour it over anybody’s head or anything. The owners were a couple of government lawyers whose names I’ve long since forgotten, but they congratulated each of the players who had made “impact” plays, and of course they were all over themselves in their praise of Jesse. Then Andy introduced me to everybody and I shook hands with the two lawyers, and one of them, who wore a long dress and very pointed black shoes, wouldn’t let go of my hand until she’d finished tellingme all she remembered of that season we went to the Super Bowl and lost. She was pretty sure we’d have won that game, she said, if we’d only used the clock better. (We lost by one point, remember.) When she let go of my hand and held her champagne glass high, Andy and all the players cheered. In spite of the lack of horseplay and rowdiness, it was a genuine championship celebration and I was suddenly very proud to be a part of it—if only a very small one, admittedly. I put my arms around Jesse and said, “You played a great game.”
Then she said something I couldn’t hear very well because of the noise. I shouted, “How’s it feel to be a champion?”
“I like it.”
“You really were terrific,” I said.
Then I figured out what she must have said before, because she said the same thing, only a lot louder: “I was good in the first half.”
“You controlled the team, Jesse. You led them.”
She smiled, then tipped her glass to the women behind her. “Here’s to a great bunch of gals,” she said, allowing herself a moment of merriment. Everybody cheered.
“I thought you hated that word,” I said, elbowing her.
She winked at me. “For Andy’s benefit.”
And then Andy hugged her, leaning back and lifting her a bit off the floor, getting mud all over the front of his Oxford shirt. When he put Jesse down, she accidentally spilled a little of her champagne on him.
“Oops. I’m sorry,” she said, laughing, trying to brush it off the front of him, whereupon he took the glass from her ever so gently, held it up high, and poured it over his own head. Everybody cheered. “ This is how you celebrate,” he said, the bubbly dripping off his brow. “God bless all of you. I love every one of you.” It really was a triumphant moment.
A lot of the players were crying now. Hell, I almost got a few tears in my eyes. I looked at Jesse, at the way she stood there, her legs slightly apart, her arms dangling now by her sides, the light glitteringin her eyes, and knew I had to do everything I could to protect her from any sort of harm. She was fatherless in a big world and people would want to exploit her and use her. She was so damned bright-eyed about everything. She loved football, and maybe didn’t even know just how talented she really was. It was all just competition to her, and fun. She didn’t know how cold it would get when the world knew what she could do.
And it was right then when I realized how damn serious I was about her; it was then that I made up my mind that I would bring her to camp and some way, somehow, get her on the field to let everyone see what she could do. If I had told anyone what I was thinking at that moment, they would have thought I was crazy. Probably I was.
And suddenly the whole future seemed in equal parts frightening, exciting, and, though I wouldn’t have been able to say quite why, sad.
Seven
I’d gotten to know Jesse pretty well during
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