Chapter 7: The Game

Bound Brook High School Echo 1974

     "Little Charch" exclaims Blaine Reed in mock surprise as he hobbles his way through the home crowd to join her along an old picket fence around the playing field, "what brings you out to a football game?"

"Hey Bleeds" she calls back to her old high school friend, turning toward him with a warm smile and a big hug, "I hear there's a kick-ass Santana show."

"Why am I not surprised it's the band that brings my hippy friend out on a chilly morning?"

"Just call me freak" she proclaims, running a palm across the top of her spiked hair. "You're looking good these days!"

"A slow form of ALS" the former Bound Brook player whispers. "I'm getting off easy."

"It's good to get off" she laughs while punching him in the chest. "Want to watch halftime with me?"

"Mickie's over there" he blurts, nodding to the wooden stands painted red for the home team colors. "Come sit with us after the show?"

"Nah, no controlled violence for me" she declares turning back toward the field as the brass blares the opening notes of Evil Ways, "but meet me at Patullos after the game."

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     The Thanksgiving day game was the culmination of the marching season in the 1970s just before band tournaments broke the football monopoly on scheduling and timing of performances. After eight previous halftime shows the musicians, dancers and twirlers all had their routines into muscle memory for a finely tuned performance. Too bad most of the audience and all of the players and coaches were more focused on the oldest football rivalry in central Jersey barring the very first intercollegiate match ever played between Rutgers and Princeton. They missed some amazing performances.

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     "The bartender told me that White Rock was once a lookout for Washington's troops" blurts Karma as Blaine leans into the brass rail next to her stool. "He thinks the first Betsy Ross flag was flown there."

"Yeah, and Herbie was probably right there to serve them a round of Bud" laughs Blaine, holding up a finger for Mr. Patullo across the bar. "What're ya havin?"

"He's already topped me off twice" she smiles while placing a slender palm over the snifter. "I've reached my frangelico limit if I'm going to drive to the library tomorrow."

"I heard you were working out in Hunterdon County" Blaine continues as the owner slides a nonic pint his way. "How's it hanging over there?"

"Cool job, suckie supervisor" she frowns as another wave of fans from the game surge around the bar. "This dick of a chiropractor wants to initiate me into his Church of the Holy Fucks."

"Holy fuck is right" Blaine scowls before whispering "I learned how to crack a neck the right way in Nam."

"Now that's a more permanent solution to my problem" she sings, quoting Jesus Christ Superstar in her best basso profundo as Blaine cracks up beside her. "Now take me home for turkey, you turkey!"