They had tried everything. But their defense had stonewalled them. And who had noticed the way the defensive safeties hesitated every time Tigers right end cut to the left for a pass? Who thereupon had improvised that brilliant variation on I-Twenty-four Pass and Run To The Left With Flanker Deployed On Three? With only five minutes to go in the game! In those five minutes, as a result, three TD’s had been scored! Tiger felt warm and glowing about his vision, newborn. Here was a boy who could step in and give him a hand. There was the future of Sawyersville High taken care of. for a long while, at least, a future Tiger was deeply concerned about, for certainly he was well aware he couldn’t last forever—even now he was pushing thirty-six, what did it matter if he didn’t look it, he was certainly beginning to feel it, and no two ways around it—he knew what the score was, what better than to start thinking ahead, seriously? In short, Tiger was thinking of a successor. A successful successor. He felt very warm toward Ponce. He was like his own son, almost, in his mind. What was his favorite subject? Literature? His thoughts flicked to that extremely gifted teacher of English and American Literature, among other things, Betty Smith, and he felt even warmer. It was something to have a highly accomplished and evolved young woman like that, of that caliber, teaching Literature, among other things, at Sawyersville High School. Tiger marveled at the good fortune. He appreciated her. He thought of her. She definitely rated another half-star, maybe more. Definitely, Tiger mused, making an indelible mental note of it. And couldn't Ponce teach Literature? Here? That would be wonderful. Tiger knew, or pretty well knew, that by the time Ponce had earned his degree, he would be Principal. Proffer was bound to have set up his emporium by then, certainly. Or been kicked out on his ass. Or the two. The combination was possible. The School Board were all crazy about Tiger, after all not only had he brought athletic fame to the community through his outstanding football squads, invincible year after year, but he saved them a not inconsiderable sum by taking on so many extra activities, among other things, for instance, Guidance/Counseling, which alone ordinarily meant the hiring of a full timer costing a pretty penny too, for certainly they didn’t come cheap, not these days, at any rate. Tiger liked the vision. He installed
that I can recall, Tiger,” Ponce unloaded, looking in fact
not too well.
“How do you think I’d have felt if I had walked in there and found her?” Tiger asked, sympathetically, studying the lad.
“I mean, it’s the kind of thing you read about, or see movies or TV about, you don’t ever expect to run into that kind of thing yourself ever, and that’s a fact—” said the
boy.
“That’s right,” Tiger agreed.
“There she was—”
“What a crunch—”
“I’ll probably see her the rest of my life. 111 dream about it—you know how scared I’ve always more or less been of the dark—Imagine Now! Wow! I’ll have to sleep with all the lights on, no kidding. I know I will,” the lad told him.
Tiger said nothing. He merely nodded, slightly, and let the boy talk. That was the way. He knew.
“How can I ever go in that lavatory again? Any of the lavatories again? Know what I mean?”
Tiger did.
“I do, Ponce,” he said.
“And that Poldaski—and that Surcher—Cripes! You’d think I’d done it! I know that Surcher’s going to talk to me again—and again—And what can I tell the guy?”
“Just the truth, Ponce, as you’ve already told them. What else?” Tiger offered.
“I hope they find the guy!”
“They will, Ponce. A thing like this isn’t something just anybody is capable of pulling off. The guy will stick out like a sore thumb, and how. A sore thumb, Ponce, and he’ll be spotted alright, sooner or later.” He paused, musing over it, “Surcher’s no dummy. I guess you already saw that. I should say no Poldaski—right, Ponce? Ha Ha.” Tiger added.
“Ha Ha Ha!” The lad laughed.
Tiger swiveled around to his right, then to his left, very slightly and gently, in his chair. It was a sort of gentle side-to-side rocking motion. Soon over.
“There’s no practice tonight, by the way,” Tiger told the boy.
it within himself, for growth and nourishment. From now on, it was part and parcel of him. And when the time came —his successor. He soared now to the most supreme point of his vision, seeing himself as Principal of the School, and Guidance/ Counselor, of course, for as long as he could usefully perform that function, and Ponce as Literature, Civics, Phys Ed, Health Ed teacher—his Assistant—and, eventually, Head Football Coach! He could do it. Certainly, Tiger knew he could do it. He had, among other things, the brains, the IQ for it—on the Stumper he had hit the highest pinnacles, only two or three before, in Tiger’s experience, had soared up there. And what a nice kid. One hell of a sweet kid. Everybody liked him. It wouldn’t be far out in fact to say they were crazy about him. Tiger knew it. There was something about him— This lad could do it.
But that was a vision, for the future, for growth and nourishment. Now, here, at this particular historical, psychological, and sociological juncture, not to mention statistical, Tiger saw little point in mentioning it. The time would come, as it did for all things, fully and properly ripened, and he would mention it. For when it came, when this particular juncture presented itself, Tiger would know it, as he did all things, immediately, intuitively, and take action, appropriately.
“You’re right, Ponce,” he said to the boy, “They’ll be in no great shape at all, will they?”
“Heck no! Imagine them looking at the stands, and the crowd, and the cheerleaders—and no Jill there—no kidding—”
“That’ll break them up and no kidding, you’re right on target there, alright, Ponce—”
“I sure hope it’s rescheduled!”
“We’ll try our best. I’m going to push it.”
There was silence.
Ponce stared down at his hands.
He shook his head. He spoke softly. Tiger barely heard him—
“Mom was in the kitchen when I got back from the drugstore. She’d already heard all about it. She hugged me, and I cried like a baby, on her. I cried and cried, Tiger.” He trailed off.
Tiger nodded, touching together the tips of his fingers, before him. seeing Poncd’s mother, hugging him.
“Then those guys phoning me—” the lad said.
“What guys. Ponce?” Tiger queried, gently.
“Cripes, Tiger, those newspaper guys—all those guys—H “Did you talk to them?” Tiger queried, lowering his hands somewhat.
“The first time they phoned, boy what a wise guy, some wise guy, Tiger, I just hung up—and left the phone off the hook—”
Tiger nodded.
“Then they phoned and phoned when Mom came home and put the receiver back—”
“And did you talk to them?” Tiger asked.
“Heck no. I did the same thing. And Mom agreed with me.”