It’s that time of week again.
Time to hang with the boys.
The parking lot’s still empty, but that’ll change soon. The sun’s only been up for half an hour.
Meanwhile, the man needs to warm up. He grabs a beer.
It goes down like water. Especially compared to what he used to drink.
He shares a few laughs with the crew. They’ve known each other forever. A few additions. A few subtractions. But the core hasn’t changed.
They used to talk about leaving. Greener pastures. More sun. Better jobs.
But there was still work to be had here. So they stayed.
Jose has always been captain of the ship. The grillmaster. He just bought another one, in fact.
Funny what people spend their money on. Especially when there’s not much to go around. And the tickets keep going up. Same with credit card rates.
The man feels a pang of anxiety. He’ll pay it down soon. He grabs another beer.
It really is freezing today. But they got the right gear. A little trial and error in the past. It’s all figured out now.
They talk a little strategy. Not that it really matters. This team hasn’t been good in years. The last time they made the playoffs, the man was still in the dreamer phase. Gonna get the fancy seats. Gonna have a happy marriage. Now he’d be fine with the middle-aged dream—a raise.
The grill’s out. Sparkling new. Though the recipes haven’t changed. Burgers and dogs. They tried the gourmet stuff a while back, but it didn’t take.
They crack out the football. Jim still loves throwing bombs—he was scholarship material back in the day. But the injury landed him at the plant with the rest of them. Man his arm is good.
A couple hours go by. So do a couple beers.
The place is filling up now. The man notes the familiar faces. Some of them get a greeting. Some just a nod. It’s nice to be home.
The tunes sound better by the minute. Bon Jovi. Guns N’ Roses. A touch of Lynyrd Skynyrd. They don’t make music like they used to. No need to sample the new stuff.
By the time the throngs start moving toward the gates, he’d almost rather just stay where he is. The beer’s not cheap inside.
But he helps pack up. A couple more throws.
And then he puts on the jersey. Just delivered—his treat to himself. It’s almost worth a whole shift, but sometimes you got to live.
From there it’s a blur.
The line.
The bathroom.
The seats. He does the greet and nod thing again.
The team runs onto the field. The anthem. There’s no thrill anymore.
A few scores. All field goals.
Then a touchdown. Wrong team.
And another.
It’s one of those days again.
He takes a look around. Mark has disappeared. Hopefully he’s not throwing up. That’s never fun.
It reminds him to grab a beer. A 20-ouncer should get him through. That and the vaping.
He knows he should quit. But it’s the one thing he’s got.
—
They start to make a game of it.
Down a score with a few minutes left.
The defense makes a stand. The place goes nuts.
Two-minute drill.
A couple first downs.
Could it be?
Not today.
Interception.
Time to hit the exits.
A decent game, to be honest.
And he feels all right.
He’s good to drive. Hopefully, getting out of the lot’s not too painful.
He needs to get back soon.
It’s the early shift this week.
But it’s no big deal.
Because he has something to look forward to.
There’s a home game again next week.
