"You see?" said Baldy.
"King Kong…"
"King Kong isn't playing football at all. He just hits some guy as hard as he can, play after play."
"You can't hit a pass receiver before he catches the ball," I said.
"It's against the rules."
"Who's going to tell him?" Baldy asked.
"You going to tell him?" I asked Ballard.
"No," said Ballard.
King Kong's team took the kickoff. Now he could block legally. He came down and savaged the littlest guy on the field. He knocked the guy completely over, his head went between his legs as he flipped. The little guy was slow getting up.
"That King Kong is a subnormal," I said. "How did he ever pass his entrance exam?"
"They don't have them here."
King Kong's team lined up. Joe Stapen was the best guy on the other team. He wanted to be a shrink. He was tall, six foot two, lean, and he had guts. Joe Stapen and King Kong charged each other. Stapen did pretty good. He didn't get dumped. The next play they charged each other again. This time Joe bounced off and gave a little ground.
"Shit," said Baldy, "Joe's giving up."
The next time Kong hit Joe even harder, spinning him around, then running him 5 or 6 yards back up the field, his shoulder buried in Joe's back.
"This is really disgusting! That guy's nothing but a fucking sadist!" I said.
"Is he a sadist?" Baldy asked Ballard.
"He's a fucking sadist," said Ballard.
The next play Kong shifted back to the smallest guy. He just ran over him and piled on top of him, dropping him hard. The little guy didn't move for a while. Then he sat up and held his head. It looked like he was finished. I stood up.
"Well, here I go," I said.
" Get that son-of-a-bitch!" said Baldy.
"Sure," I said. I walked down to the field.
"Hey, fellas. Need a player?"
The little guy stood up, started to walk off the field. He stopped as he reached me.
"Don't go in there. All that guy wants is to kill somebody."
"It's just touch football," I said.
It was our ball. I got into the huddle with Joe Stapen and the other two survivors.
"What's the game plan?" I asked.
"Just to stay the fuck alive," said Joe Stapen.
"What's the score?"
"I think they're winning," said Lenny Hill, the center. We broke out of the huddle. Joe Stapen stood back and waited for the ball. I stood looking at Kong. I'd never seen him around campus. He probably hung around the men's crapper in the gym. He looked like a shit-sniffer. He also looked like a fetus-eater.
"Time!" I called.
Lenny Hill straightened up over the ball. I looked at Kong.
"My name's Hank. Hank Chinaski. Journalism."
Kong didn't answer. He just stared at me. He had dead white skin. There was no glitter or life in his eyes.
"What's your name?" I asked him. He just kept staring.
"What's the matter? Got some placenta caught in your teeth?"
Kong slowly raised his right arm. Then he straightened it out and pointed a finger at me. Then he lowered his arm.
"Well, suck my weenie," I said, "what's that mean?"
"Come on, let's play ball," one of Kong's mates said. Lenny bent over the ball and snapped it. Kong came at me. I couldn't seem to focus on him. I saw the grandstand and some trees and part of the Chemistry Building shake as he crashed into me. He knocked me over backwards and then circled around me, flapping his arms like wings. I got up, feeling dizzy. First Becker K.O.'s me, then this sadistic ape. He smelled; he stank; a real evil son-ofa-bitch.
Stapen had thrown an incomplete pass. We huddled.
"I got an idea," I said.
"What's that?" asked Joe.
"I'll throw the ball. You block."
"Let's leave it the way it is," said Joe.
We broke out of the huddle. Lenny bent over the ball, snapped it back to Stapen. Kong came at me. I lowered a shoulder and rushed at him. He had too much strength. I bounced off him, straightened up, and as I did Kong came again, knifing his shoulder into my belly. I fell. I leaped up right away but I didn't feel like getting up. I was having breathing problems.
Stapen had thrown a short complete pass. Third down. No huddle. When the ball snapped Kong and I ran at each other. At the last moment I left my feet and hurled myself at him. The weight of my body hit his neck and his head, knocking him off balance. As he fell I kicked him as hard as I could and caught him right on the chin. We were both on the ground. I got up first. As Kong rose there was a red blotch on the side of his face and blood at the corner of his mouth. We trotted back to our positions.
Stapen had thrown an incomplete pass. Fourth down. Stapen dropped back to punt. Kong dropped back to protect his safety man. The safety man caught the punt and they came pounding up the field, Kong leading the way for his runner. I ran at them. Kong was expecting another high hurdle. This time I dove and clipped him at the ankles. He went down hard, his face hitting the ground. He was stunned, he stayed there, his arms spread out. I ran up and kneeled down. I grabbed him by the back of the neck, hard. I squeezed his neck and rammed my knee into his backbone and dug it in. "Hey, Kong, buddy, are you all right?"
The others came running up. "I think he's hurt," I said. "Come on, somebody help me get him off the field."
Stapen got him on one side and I got Kong on the other and we walked him to the sideline. Near the sideline I pretended to stumble and ground my left shoe into his ankle.
"Oh," said Kong, "please leave me alone…"
"I'm just helpin' ya, buddy."
When we got him to the sideline we dropped him. Kong sat and rubbed the blood from his mouth. Then he reached down and felt his ankle. It was skinned and would soon begin to swell. I bent over him. "Hey, Kong, let's finish the game. We're behind 42-7 and need a chance to catch up."
"Naw, I gotta make my next class."
"I didn't know they taught dog-catching here."
"It's English Lit 1. "
"That figures. Well, look, I'll help you over to the gym and I'll put you under a hot shower, what you say?"
"No, you stay away from me."
Kong got up. He was pretty busted. The great shoulders sagged, there was dirt and blood on his face. He limped a few-steps. "Hey, Quinn,"he said to one of his buddies, "gimme a hand…"
Quinn took one of Kong's arms and they walked slowly across the field toward the gym.
"Hey, Kong!" I yelled, "I hope you make your class! Tell Bill Saroyan I said 'hello'!"
The other fellows were standing around, including Baldy and Ballard who had come down from the stands. Here I had done my best ever god-damned act and not a pretty girl around for miles.
"Anybody got a smoke?" I asked.
"I got some Chesterfields," Baldy said.
"You still smoking pussy cigarettes?" I asked.
"I'll take one," said Joe Stapen.
"All right," I said, "since that's all there is."
We stood around, smoking,
"We still have enough guys around to play a game," somebody said.
"Fuck it," I said. "I hate sports."
"Well," said Stapen, "you sure took care of Kong."
"Yeah," said Baldy, "I watched the whole thing. There's only one thing that confuses me."
"What's that?" asked Stapen.
"I wonder which guy is the sadist?"
"Well," I said, "I gotta go. There's a Cagney movie showing tonight and I'm taking my cunt."
I began to walk across the field.
"You mean you're taking your right hand to the movie?" one of the guys yelled after me.
"Both hands," I said over my shoulder.
I walked off the field, down past the Chemistry Building and then out on the front lawn. There they were, boys and girls with their books, sitting on benches, under the trees, or on the lawn. Green books, blue books, brown books. They were talking to each other, smiling, laughing at times. I cut over to the side of the campus where the "V" car line ended. I boarded the "V," got my transfer, went to the back of the car, took the last seat in back, as always, and waited.