SPORTING LIFE

Year One—Interception

            Mary blushed a little at the reflection in the mirror.  Granny James had outdone herself.  The white lace nightgown was as innocent as a rosebud and just as sweet.  Mary actually felt pretty for the first time in her life.  The wedding had been nothing special, a quick fifteen minute ceremony slipped in ahead of the kick-off.  They’d just gone to the J.P. and let him read the words off the back of the marriage license.  But that was okay, Mary told herself, because that was what they could afford.  When George went over all the expenses of a church wedding, she saw the foolishness of such extravagance.  She felt proud of the way he watched every penny.  A tiny wedding and coming home to their first  place, a little shabby but their own, made sense.  Granny James insisted on making something special out of her granddaughter’s marriage and the white lace nightgown with its dainty satin cording was the result.  It made Mary James—no not Mary James now—Mary Hastings.  The gown made plain Mary Hastings with her snub nose and dishwater blonde hair feel beautiful.

            Slowly Mary opened the bathroom door and looked to see where George was.  Maybe he’s splurged on a bottle of champagne. The idea that George might be so frivolous tickled her. Maybe he was in the kitchen pouring it right now.  He’d be doing something wonderful for their first night together.  He must feel the magic, too.

            Mary tiptoed down the hall to see what surprise George was planning.  He sat in the shadowy living room on the lumpy garage sale sofa.  The big screen TV, the only new thing in their apartment, glowed with racing, tumbling figures.  Mary came quietly into the room and joined him.  She must have made more noise than she’d realized.  He raised his head but didn’t look her way.  “Hi, kid,” he said, moving over a little to give her a wedge of the sofa.  “You’re just in time.  ‘Coaches Corner’ just started and after that we can see the whole game. Then we’ll catch highlights from the other games over the country.”

Year Two—Delay of Game

            Pacing the floor didn’t help.  The contractions were still irregular.  Mary looked at the mound under her smock with dismay.  How could it take so long?  She’d been like this, walking, sitting, grabbing the arms of her chair and watching the clock, since midnight.  Morning was well along.  For something to do she checked the contents of her suitcase, re-read her doctor’s instructions, wrote a check to the newspaper boy and one to the TV repairman.  She brushed her hair, made coffee, and called Granny James.  George wouldn’t like the long distance charge, but Granny had to know the baby was on the way.

            What more could Mary find to do?  The contractions came closer, more regularly, now.  She’d have to wake George soon.  She hated to.  He needed his sleep.  He’d been late getting to bed the night before.  The game from the West Coast had been a delayed telecast and then went into over time. He’d been as worn out as the players by the time he came upstairs.

Mary clutched the doorframe.  Her green coffee cup hit the floor as another contraction, unexpectedly close to the preceding one, rolled over her.  Shards of green flew everywhere.  She grabbed the cabinet, breathing in, counting, waiting for the red haze to clear.  The moment the pain passed, she hurried for the broom and dust pan.  If George came into the kitchen without his slippers, he’d get hurt on the splinters of glass.

            As Mary dumped the broken bits into the trash, George came through the doorway.  Mary gestured at her bag in the hall and told him her trip to the hospital was imminent.  George glanced at the wall clock.  “It’s almost time for the kick-off.  Babies always take forever.  Can’t you wait till half-time?”

Year Seven—Substitute Play Called

            Such a pretty tree, Mary thought.  Annie had picked it herself.  The branches swelled, full and green, and the room smelled like a whole forest.  The house held a hint of spruce in every room.  Mary put out the boxes of decorations.  She hoped she had enough.  A few more broke or came apart every year.  Bright balls, crystal bells, tiny wooden apples, they were same ones that had been on her Christmas trees when she was a little girl.  Granny James had passed them on that first year when Mary married George and the newlyweds couldn’t afford to do Christmas.  George really had wanted that new TV when they married so they’d made monthly payments on it for over a year.  That didn’t leave anything over for Christmas.  Somehow George had never seen the need to add to Granny’s ornaments.  He was sentimental about them, Mary guessed.

            Mary brushed fingertips over the spangled angel, not so sparkly now, but still Annie’s favorite.  Annie was always so excited to put on the tree, though she had to stand on the wobbly ladder to place it.  Mary sighed over getting the tree up so late this year.  With the cable TV a lot of games came on now, and George was hard pressed to find extra time with the family.  Between his day at the office and keeping up with all the big games, he saw very little of Mary or Annie.  He took dinner on a tray in the den most evenings.  She and Annie ate in the kitchen so their conversation wouldn’t distract him.

            Mary spread the ornaments out and unwound the strings of lights.  She checked and replaced bulbs.  The tree skirt showed faded spots, but they were hidden under the packages.  She must remind George that the new bicycle was from Santa and the warm red coat was from George.  Otherwise he’d never recall what he gave his daughter for Christmas.  Even with the warning the bills next month would likely upset him. 

Mary heard Annie coming.  Two tiny sneakers sounded like a dozen kids on the uncarpeted stairs.  Almost bedtime for Annie.  Mary hoped they could get the tree finished before then.  Only three days till Christmas and a little girl should have time to enjoy the anticipation.  Mary had a tape of carols to play as background music while they decorated.  Annie would love that.

            George ambled in from the den, a newspaper in his hand.  “I guess I can help with the tree now, if you want me to.  The paper says they blacked out the Forty-Niners’ game.  It won’t be on TV after all.”  He started toward the table of ornaments, stopped, snapped his fingers.  “Oh, right!  Hold on here.  It’s on the radio.  I’ll get the one from our bedroom.  We can listen to the game while we put up the tree.”

Year Seventeen—Interference

            A girl’s sixteenth birthday is special, Mary thought as she put the last dust of pink sprinkles on the cake.  The party had been weeks in the planning.  Mary wanted to do something wonderful for Annie, give her a party she’d always remember.  The event wasn’t quite all she’d hoped for.  They’d had to replace the old TV, and George worked very hard.  He was entitled to the new entertainment center.  He’d reminded Mary that it would last a lot longer than just one party for one night.  His logic was unarguable.  The massive black box and all its bells and whistles would last forever, especially if the only thing it ever did was show, record, or replay the endless stream of athletic events they received from the satellite dish.

            Still Annie seemed pleased that twelve of her friends and a special boy were coming to eat hot dogs, drink colas, have cake and dance on the patio this glorious fall evening.  She was setting up her small stereo, her birthday gift from Granny James, out on the patio now.  Mary hoped the strings of lights in the yard would be enough to cast a glow on the party.  A blast of sound from some group called Buckskin Canary or Jaded Butterfly—or something like that—showed the stereo was in fine shape.

            Mary loaded relish and condiments for the hot dogs onto the tray.  Cold drinks and ice filled a plastic garbage can on the porch.  George hadn’t seen the sense of buying one just to hold party drinks when they had a perfectly good one in the garage, not shining clean perhaps, but good enough.  Mary and Annie had spent days scavenging coins from the sofa cushions and car seats to buy the new one so he wouldn’t be annoyed by the expense.

            Annie’s friends began to arrive, the hot dogs sizzled on the grill, and Buckskin Butterfly, or whoever, filled the back yard with the cacophony of young people having a good time.  George thundered into the kitchen where Mary was tidying up.

            “You mean that stupid party is tonight?  Tonight of all times?  I have to put up with a herd of kids and all their racket?  I thought her birthday was next month.  I never would have said she could have a noisy mob over here right at kick-off time.  Can’t they go somewhere else?”

Year Nineteen—Two Minute Warning

            Four o’clock. Time to go.  The bags sat neatly at the door.  Annie was safely away at her first semester of college.  Mary had paid the bills, entered them in the ledger, cooked a roast, and done the laundry.  She’d done what she could for George.  All the chores were finished.  The taxi would pull in front of the house any minute.  Maybe she should try just one more time.  She walked to the door of the den.  George sat on the edge of his chair, clutching the sports section of the newspaper, rolled and fringed by his twisting hands.

            “Cover it!  Cover that ball!” he shouted.  The TV announcer babbled about the play.  The fans in the stands screamed, and Mary supposed some were elated, some miserable, as the game faded to a commercial.

            George looked around, saw her standing in the doorway.  Her dark suit and pumps must have registered.  “You going out?” he asked blankly.

            Mary shook her head.  She’d told him.  Told him time and again she’d had enough.  She couldn’t play second string to his other love anymore.  Annie was grown, or almost.  She wouldn’t be at home much, not now that she’d begun college.  Granny James was alone and frail.  She needed someone and Mary needed someone.  She needed to be more than the waitress that brought sandwiches at halftime.  She wanted conversation about something besides the starting line up.  She was leaving.

            “If you’re going out, bring me the little TV from the kitchen, will you?  They’re broadcasting the Army-Navy game this afternoon.  I can catch part of it during time out.”

Year twenty-three—Instant Replay

            “George, it’s Mary.”

            “Mary?”  A distracted pause followed.  “Oh, yes.  Mary.  Hold on.  I want to hear what the coach has to say about Haldrick’s injury.”  Mary heard the rumble of the TV through the phone connection.  “It’s okay, just a pulled hamstring.  Mary, it’s been a while.”

            “Three years, George.  It’s been three years.”

            “That long?  I guess so.  Super Bowl Forty One is coming up this year, isn’t it?”

            “George, I called to remind you that Annie’s getting married tonight at All Saints.  Wedding’s at seven.  You need to be here by six.”

            “Tonight?  You’re sure?  I thought I told her to change the day.  Nobody’s gonna come.  This is the first game of the Playoff.”