Decades from now, after the stadium falls into disrepair due to leaking urinals….after Florida State relocated to a nearby sandlot to play their D4 games…there will be a grandfather and child watching a Seminoles game.
“You know Bobby, one time these Seminoles actually beat them.”
“Beat who, pappy?”
“Miami.”
“The Hurricanes?” The grandson looked around is disbelief as an FSU player caught a ball out of bounds and got ensnared in a bush. He slapped a genetically modified mosquito and looked on in disbelief. “We played the Miami Hurricanes?”
“No cap, my child. It was a long time ago.” He looked whistfully at Doak Campbell…at what was left of it. Australian pines now grew from holes in the stands. Fetid water still leaked from now collapsed bathrooms. But it had not always been that way. No once there had been hope. Even victory, but now -
“How poppy? How did we do it?”
“Ah, indeed. How.” The grandfather looked at Bobby with a sad smile. “A simple play. A 4th down. We converted. They did not. And we celebrated. Oh, how we celebrated. There were banners. Parades. Commercials on what we used to call TV. We thought the good times would never end.”
“But what happened?”
“They got better players. Many, many better players. And an army of coaches. And their facilities, they became second to none. Soon they…soon they were winning championships. Eventually it was as expected as the sky being blue.”
“It’s not blue here, Poppy. I think it’s brown.”
“That’s only the swamp gas rising from the ol stadium. That and the mosquitos now color the sky.”
His grandson sat thinking. After a minute, after watching undersized players grab flags and cheer when first downs were made, he turned back to his grandfather.
“Poppy, are you just kidding. That didn’t really happen, did it?”
The Grandfather watched the Seminoles coach thirty yards away. The man’s cornrows were long, but tinted silver with age. An assistant used a weedwhacker to carve a path through the undergrowth for him to stride the sidelines. Upon the snapping of the ball on the next play, three offensive linemen began blocking each other. An running back fumbled the ball, and the quarterback picked it up and tried to punt it away, only to kick himself on the face. After that the coaches made their way onto the sandlot to berate and console the players, and eventually practice resumed.
He turned to face Bobby. In the distance, they could hear clowns practicing. “Yes, Bobby, I was kidding. It never happened.”
Bobby grinned. “I knew it! But the Hurricanes, all that stuff you said did happen, right?”
A tear welled up in his eye. “Yes Bobby. Yes it did.”