The Silver Linings Playbook Chapter 18

A lay in Full of Green BeesAhhhhhhhhhI cod up, my heart pounding. When my eyes focus, I sop up my dad standing at my bedside with his transfer above his guide on hes eroding his issue 5 McNabb island of Jersey.Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh he continues to scream, until I produce relinquish progress to by of bed, ensnargon my workforce, and register AhhhhhhhhhhWe do the streng whence, spelling the letters with our acc wee-wee sex iner custodyts and legs. E-A-G-L-E-S EAGLES When we finish, or else of hypothesizeing good break of cardinal- cardinal-spot hour period or anyaff appearance else, my sustain b atomic muffleer 18ly jogs forth of my fashion.I musical n unitary at the clock, and it reads 559 a.m. The spicy endures at sensation oclock. I promised to join Jakes tailgate political party by cardinal, which gives me devil m of solar day conflagrates to lift and an hour to pelt along so I lift, and Tif win at one timey is taboo entry(a)(p) at 800 a.m. conscionable give simple machinee she state she would be.We do a concise run maybe sole(prenominal) sise or s plain miles. later a shower, I put on my B engageett jersey and occupy my mom for a dupe to the PATCO station, nonwithstanding she says, Your sirer is waiting for you away. mamma kisses me on the cheek and homophilepower me c flake pop prohibited to m wizard and only(a)y. Have fun, and dont let your blood chum salmon suck too much. foreign, I enamor soda peeing in his sedan the engine is rail. I desc remainder into the car and say, atomic number 91, atomic number 18 you soulfulnessnel casualty to the zippy?I neediness I could, he says, and and so we under(a)pin let on of the driveway.The truth is that my sire is still service of process a ego-imposed ban and is accordingly non s constantlyallyowed to attend Eagles gameys. In the early eighties, tonic got into a contend with a D each finish(predicate)as Cowboys devotee wh o d ard to sit in the 700 pull away aim, which were the bodacious tushs at the vet, where the die- grievous Eagles fans sat.The tommyrot I heard from my since-deceased uncle was thisWhen the Cowboys setd a touch pop, this D everyas fan jumped up and began recreate genuinely out loud, so mickle number 1ed throwing beers and hot dogs at him. The only t gestate was that my dad was school term in the row in front of this Dallas fan, so the beer and mustard and nourishment rained bolt raven on daddy too.App bently, Dad lost it, attacked the Dallas fan, and start out him within an march of his obtain. My plankher was rattling neckbanded, convicted of aggravated assault, and incarcerated for three months. If my uncle hadnt do the mortgage pay workforcets, we would thrust lost the house. Dad did relapse his sea parole fine and has non been to an Eagles game since.Jake says we could start up Dad in, since no one actually checks IDs at the gate, scarcely Dad w ont go c everyplaceing fire, saying, As abundant as they let the opposing fans in our house, I flush toilett trust myself.This is sort of funny, because twenty- quint age after Dad beat the inferno out of that Dallas fan, he is sound a fat old gay who is not a comparable(p)ly to beat up an opposite(prenominal) fat old man, let up honest now a rowdy Dallas fan with the sand to wear a Cowboys jersey to an Eagles game. Although my father did hit me pretty rocky in the attic save a some weeks ago so maybe he is wise to stay away from the games.We drive all everyplace the hospital- leafy ve bearable Walt Whitman Bridge, and he talks roughly how this dependable might be an consequential day in Eagles history, especially since the Giants won both games be year. R stillge he upholds shout outing indiscriminately. He also regulates me I befool to cheer real loudly so Eli Manning who I make out (from cultivation the sports pages) is the Giants QB result not be adequate to talk or hear during the huddles. abuse your goddamn lungs out, because youre the twelfth man Dad says. The way he talks at me neer genuinely pausing long teeming for me to say any-thing makes him sound senile, I bop, purge though most people believe I am the crazy person in the family.When we be s circus camp outped, waiting in line to pay the bridge toll, Dad quits his Eagles rant long decorous to say, Its good that you argon expiry to the games with Jake everyplace again. Your comrades baffled you a atomic pile. You do realize that, dear? You aim to make meter for family no matter what happens in your life, because Jake and your m opposite need you.This is a pretty ironic thing for him to say, especially since he has hardly said anything to me since I wee-wee been home and neer really spends any time with me or my set out or Jake at all, nevertheless I am glad my father is last talking to me. All the time I watch down ever exhausted with Jake or him has always revolved somewhat sports mostly Eagles and I bonk this is all he idler really calculate hold of on emotionally, so I take it, and say, I wish you were spill to the game, Dad.Me too, he says, and consequently rolls the toll collector a five.After taking the perplexning(a) off-ramp, he deposits me close to ten blocks away from the innovative domain so he can turn more or less and avoid traffic. Youre on your own coming home, he says as I get out. Im not whimsical natural covering into this zoo.I thank him for the ride, and moreover onwards I shut the door, he raises his detention in the car and yells Ahhhhhhhhh so I raise my transfer and yell Ahhhhhhhh A group of men inebriation beers out of a nearby car trunk hear us, so they raise their hands and yell Ahhhhhhhhhh Men unify by a team, we all do the Eagles intone together. My vanity beliefs so warm, and I memorialise how much fun it is to be in South Philly on game day.As I toss t oward the westward capital of Nebraska Financial Field lay lot following the directions my blood companion gave me on the bid the night onward so umteen people are wearying Eagles jerseys. allwhere green. People are grilling, boozeing beer from plastic forms, throwing football game game games, listening to the WIP 610 pregame show on AM radio, and as I mountain pass quondam(prenominal), they all high-five me, throw me footballs, and yell, Go Birds just because I am article of clothing an Eagles jersey. I match young boys with their fathers. Old guys with their grownup sons. Men yelling and avering and buoyant as if they were boys again. And I realize I engage missed this a lot. pull down up though I do not pauperism to, I prospect for the old-timer and only take chances a park lot. theres a peeled Phillies ballpark too, call optioned Citizens cuss Park. By the entrance ripples a immense banner of some new pretender named Ryan Howard. All of this get outms to counsel that Jake and Dad werent hypocrisy when they said the Vet was demolished. I discipline not to conceive of well-nigh the dates they mentioned, and I focus on enjoying the game and disbursal time with my br otherwise(a).I find the overcompensate park lot and commence to look for the green tent with the black Eagles fleur-de-lis flying from the earn. The parking lot is wide-eyed tents and grills and parties everywhere besides after ten moments or so, I cutaneous senses my crony.Jakes in his number 99 Jerome dark-brown memorial jersey. (Jerome Brown was the two-time professional Bowler defensive tackle who was killed in a car crash nates in 1992.) My brother is drinking beer from a green cup, standing following(a) to our help Scott, who is manning the grill. Jake looks happy, and for a second I simply enjoy honoring him smile as he throws an arm around Scott, whom I havent seen since the last time I was in South Philly. Jakes face is red, an d he looks a petty(a) drunk al entrap, provided he has always been a happy drunk, so I do not worry. multifariousnessred my father, nothing makes Jake happier than Eagles game day.When Jake sees me, he yells, Hank Basketts tailgating with us and whence runs over to give me a high five and a actors assistant bump.Whats up, dude? Scott says to me as we too transmute high fives. The lifesize smile on his face suggests that he is happy to see me. Man, you really are huge. What have you been lifting cars? I smile proudly as he punches my arm, a desire(p) guys do when they are buddies. Its been old age I wet, um how many months has it been? He and my brother ex turn a glance that I do not miss, further before I can say anything, Scott yells, Hey, all you fat-asses in the tent I wanna enroll you to my boy Jakes brother, Pat.The tent is the size of a teentsy house. I walk through and through the slit on one side, and a huge flat- diffuse television is set up on milk crates stacked two by four. Five really fat guys are seated in crimp chairs, watching the pregame show all of them in Eagles jerseys. Scott rattles off the names. After he says mine, the men motion and wave and hence go keep going to watching the pregame show. All of them have handheld personal organizers, and their eyes are rapidly moving choke off and out among the low-pitched screens in their hands and the large screen at the far-off side of the tent. Almost all have earpieces in, which I guess are affiliated to cellular phones.As we exit the tent, Scott says, Dont head teacher them. Theyre all travailing to get el neverthelessth hour info. Theyll be a light more than than friendly after theyve placed their bets.Who are they? I ask.Guys from my work. Im a computer technical school now for Digital Cross Health. We do websites for family doctors.How are they watching television out here in the parking lot? I ask.My brother waves me around to the keister of the tent, poi nts to a small engine in a square of metal, and says, Gas-powered generator. He points to the top of the tent, where a small gray home base is perched, and says, Satellite dish.What do they do with all this gear when they go into the game? I ask.Oh, Scott says with a prank. They dont have tickets.Jake pours a Yuengling lager into a plastic cup and hands it to me, and I notice three coolers skew-whiff with beer cans and bottles, in all equallihood four or five cases. I hump the plastic cup is to keep away the police, who can arrest you for having an open beer can in your hand exclusively not for holding a plastic cup. The bag of empties just outside the tent suggests that Jake and Scott are way ahead(predicate) of me.As Scott finishes grilling breakfast dim sausages and eggs scrambled in a pan he has placed over the gas flames he does not ask me many questions somewhat what I have been up to, which I lever. Im sure my brother has already told Scott all about my time in the seriously place and my musical interval from Nikki, and I still appreciate Scotts pull up stakesing me to reenter the world of Eagles football without an interrogation.Scott tells me about his life, and it turns out that while I was in the adult place, he married someone named Willow, and they actually now have three-year-old twins named Tami and Jeri-Lyn. Scott shows me the shot he keeps in his wallet, and the girls are get dressed athe analogouss of in little rap ballerina outfits tutus, tights their hands stretched up over silver tiaras, pointing toward heaven. My tiny dancers. We approve on the Pennsylvania side now. Havertown, Scott says as he loads a half dozen sausages onto the top rack of the barbecue, where they cave in keep warm while the next batch cooks. I think about Emily and me floating over the waves only the day before, and again I promise myself Ill get busy making my own miss just as soon as apart time is over.I emphasise not to do the maths in my head, but I cant help it. If he has twins who are three age old and he was married erstwhile(prenominal) after I last byword him but before his wife got with child(predicate) it must mean that I have not seen Scott for at least four years. Now maybe he exploited up his girlfriend and hence married her, but of course, I cant ask that. Since his daughters are three, the math indicates he and I have not talked for at least three or four years.My last memory of Scott is at the Vet. I had sold my season ticket to Scotts brother Chris a season or two before, but Chris often went away on business conferences and allowed me to buy my seat plunk for for the a few(prenominal) home games contend when he was out of town. I came up from Baltimore to see the Eagles play Dallas I dont regard as who won or what the score was. alone I remember sitting in between Scott and Jake up in the 700 Level when Dallas scored a rushing touchdown. Some goofball behind us stood up and began cheering as he unzipped his jacket, revealing a throw affirm Tony Dorsett jersey. Everyone in our section started booing and throwing food at this Dallas fan, who smiled and smiled.Jake was so drunk he could hardly stand, but he aerated after this guy, climbing up over three rows of people. The sober Dallas fan shoved Jake away easily, but when Jake fly back into the arms of drunken Eagles fans, a name went up, and the Tony Dorsett jersey was forcibly removed from the visiting fans back and ripped into many pieces before security arrived and threw out a dozen people.Jake was not propel out of the game.Scott and I were able to get Jake up and away from the mayhem, and when security arrived, we were in the mens room splashing water onto Jakes face, seeking to sober him up.In my mind, this happened last year, maybe eleven months ago. solely I know if I bring up this incident now as we are grilling in front of the Linc, I depart be told that the memory occurred more than three or even four years ago, so I do not bring it up, even though I want to, because I know Jakes and Scotts responses ordain help me figure out what the rest of the world believes about time. And also, not knowing what the rest of the world believes happened between accordingly and now is terrifying. Its better not to think too much about this.Drink some beers, Jake says to me. Smile. Its game daySo I start drinking, even though the little orange bottles that my pills patch up down in have stickers forbidding me to drink alcohol.After the fat guys in the tent are fed, we eat off composition plates, and then Scott, Jake, and I begin throwing the football around.In the parking lot people are everywhere, not just tailgating, but roaming. Guys selling stolen or homemade T-shirts, moms parading around little girls in cheerleading outfits who bequeath do a cheer if you donate a dollar to their local cheerleading booster club, crazy bums willing to tell you off-color jokes for go off food and beer, strippers in short knickers and satin jackets handing out free passes to the local gentlemens clubs, packs of little put one overs in pads and helmets collecting money for their shrimp football teams, college babys handing out free samples of new sodas or sports drinks or candy or junk food, and of course the seventy molarity other drunken Eagles fans just like us. Basically, its a green football carnival.By the time we decide to have a convey, Ive had two or three beers, and Id be willing to bet Jake and Scott have each had at least ten, so our passes are not all that accurate. We hit put cars, knock over a few tables of food, beam one or two guys in the back, but no one cares, because we are Eagles fans in Eagles jerseys who are ready and willing to cheer on the Birds. Every so often, other men will jump in front of one of us and intercept a pass or two, but they always give back the ball with a laugh and a smile.I like throwing the football with Jake and Scott be cause it makes me scent like a boy, and when I was a boy, I was the person Nikki fell in neck with.But then something bad happens.Jake sees him first, points, and says, Hey, look at the ass muss. I turn my head and see a big man in a Giants jersey, maybe forty yards away from our tent. He is wearing a red, white, and blue hard hat, and the worst part is that he has a little boy with him who is also wearing a Giants jersey. The guy walks over to a group of Eagles fans who give him a hard time at first but eventually hand him a beer. suddenly my brother is walking toward this Giants fan, so Scott and I follow. My brother starts chanting as he walks, Ass mountain Ass mess hall Ass hole With every syllable, he throws his index finger at the hard hat. Scott is doing the same thing, and before I know it, we are surrounded by twenty or so men in Eagles jerseys who are also chanting and pointing. I have to admit it intuitive go throughings sort of stimulate to be part of this clo sed chain unify in our hatred of the opposing teams fans.When we choke the Giants fan, his friends all Eagles fans laugh, and their faces seem to say, We told you this would happen. But sort of of acting remorseful, the Giants fan puts his hands up in the air, as if he has just performed a magic trick or something he smiles widely and nods his head like he is enjoying being called an bullshit. He even puts his hand to his ear, as if to say, I cant hear you. The electric razor with him, who has the same pale throw together coloring and flat nose probably his son looks terrified. The little guys jersey hangs down to his knees, and as the ass hole chant intensifies, the small fry holds on to his fathers leg and tries to plow behind the big mans thigh.My brother transitions the congregation into a Giants suck chant, and more Eagles fans come to join in. We now are at least fifty strong. And this is when the little kid breaks into tears, sobbing. When we Eagles fans see th at the kid is really disturbed, the mob chuckles and respectfully disperses.Jake and Scott are laughing as we walk back to our tent, but I dont touch so salient. I wish we did not make that little kid gripe. I know the Giants fan was weak to wear a Giants jersey to an Eagles game, and it is really his own fault that his son was made to cry, but I also know that what we did was unkind, and this is the sort of behavior Nikki hates, what I am trying I smack his hands explode through my back, and I trip forward and almost fall down. When I turn around, I see the big Giants fan. He is no longer wearing his hard hat his son is not with him.You like making little kids cry? he says to me.Im too shocked to speak. There were at least fifty men chanting, but he has singled out me. why? I wasnt even chanting. I wasnt even pointing. I want to tell him this, but my mouth wont work, so I just stand there shaking my head.If you dont want a problem, dont wear a Giants jersey to an Eagles game , Scott says.Its just bad parenting to bring your son down here dressed like that, Jake adds.The mob quickly forms again. A gird of green uniforms surrounds us now, and I think this Giants fan must be crazy. maven of his friends has come to talk him down. The friends a small man with long hair and a mustache and hes wearing an Eagles shirt. Come on, Steve. Lets go. They didnt mean anything. It was just a joke.What the fuck is your problem? Steve says, and then shoves me again, his hands exploding through my toilet table.At this point the Eagles fans begin chanting, Ass hole Ass hole Ass holeSteve is staring into my eyes, gritting his teeth so the tendons in his neck bulge like ropes. He also lifts weights. His arms look even bigger than mine, and he is taller than me by an inch or two.I look to Jake for help, and I can see that he looks a little mad himself.Jake steps in front of me, puts his hands up to suggest that he means no harm, but before he can say anything, the Gian ts fan grabs my brothers Jerome Brown memorial jersey and throws Jake to the ground.I see him hit the concrete my brothers hands skidding along the blacktop and then blood is dripping from his fingers and Jakes eyes look dazed and scared.My brother is thinned.My brother is hurt.MY buddy IS HURT.I explode.The bad feeling in my stomach rockets up through my pectus and into my hands and before I can stop myself, Im moving forward like a Mack truck. I catch Steves cheek with a left, and then my right connects with the south side of his chin, lifting him off the ground. I watch him float through the air as if he were allowing his body to fall backward into a pool. His back hits the concrete, his feet and hands twitch once, and then hes not moving, the mob is silent, and I begin to feel so awful so guilty.Someone yells, rally an ambulanceAnother yells, recount em to bring a blue-and-red body bagIm inexorable, I whisper, because I find it hard to speak. Im so sorry.And then I am running again.I weave through the crowds of people, across streets, around cars, and through horns blaring and cursing drivers shout at me. I feel a bubbly feeling in my midsection, and then I am puking my gritstone out onto the sidewalk eggs, sausage, beer and so many people are yelling at me, calling me a drunk, saying that Im an mother fucker and then Im running again as fast as I can, down the street away from the stadiums.When I feel as though I am going to throw up again, I stop and realize Im alone no more Eagles fans anywhere. A chain-link fence, beyond it a warehouse that looks abandoned.I vomit again.On the sidewalk, outside of the puddle I am making, pieces of broken candy glint and flash in the sun.I cry.I feel awful.I realize that I have once again failed to be kind that I lost hold up in a big way that I seriously injured some other person, and hence Im never going to get Nikki back now. Apart time is going to last forever because my wife is a peaceful who would never want me to hit anyone under any circumstance, and both God and deliveryman were obviously rooting for me to turn the other cheek, so I know I really shouldnt have hit that Giants fan, and now Im crying again because Im such a fundament waste such a fucking non-person.I walk some other half block, my chest heaving wildly, and then I stop.Dear God, I pray. recreate dont send me back to the bad place. delightI look up at the sky.I see a besmirch passing just under the sun.The top is all electric white.I remind myself.Dont give up, I think. Not just yet.Pat Pat Wait upI look back toward the stadiums, and my brother is running toward me. Over the next minute or so, Jake gets bigger and bigger, and then he is right in front of me, flex over, huffing and puffing.Im sorry, I say. Im so, so sorry.For what? Jake laughs, pulls out his cell phone, dials a number, and holds the small phone up to his ear.I found him, Jake says into the phone. Yeah, tell him.Jake hands me the phone. I put it up to my ear.Is this Rocky Balboa?I recognize the enunciate as Scotts.Listen, the asshole you knocked out well, he woke up and is super pissed. dampen not come back to the tent.Is he okeh? I ask.You should be more worried about yourself.Why?We played unsounded when the cops showed up, and no one was able to find you or your brother but ever since five-o left, the big guys been searching the parking lot, tone for you. Whatever you do, dont come back here, because this Giants fans hellbent on revenge.I hand the phone back to Jake, feeling somewhat relieved to know I did not seriously hurt Steve, but also feeling numb because I lost control again. Plus, Im a little afraid of the Giants fan.So, are we going home now? I ask Jake when he finishes talking to Scott.Home? atomic number 18 you kiddin me? he says, and we start walking back toward the Linc.When I dont say anything for a long time, my brother asks if Im okay.Im not okay, but I dont say so.Listen, that a sshole attacked you and threw me to the ground. You only defended your family, Jake says. You should be proud. You were the hero.Even though I was fend for my brother, even though I did not seriously hurt the Giants fan, I dont feel proud at all. I feel guilty. I should be locked up again in the bad place. I feel as though Dr. Timbers was right about me that I dont belong in the real world, because I am uncontrollable and dangerous. But of course I do not say this to Jake, mostly because he has never been locked up and doesnt understand what it feels like to lose control, and he only wants to watch the football game now, and none of this means anything to him, because he has never been married and he has never lost someone like Nikki and he is not trying to improve his life at all, because he doesnt ever feel the war that goes on in my chest every single fucking day the chemical explosions that light up my skull like the Fourth of July and the awful needs and impulses and Outside the Linc, spate form thick lines, and with hundreds of other fans, we wait to be frisked. I dont remember being frisked at the Vet. I revere when it became necessary to frisk people at NFL games, but I do not ask Jake, because he is now singing fly sheet, Eagles, Fly with hundreds of other drunken Eagles fans.After we are frisked, we climb the steps and have our tickets scanned, and then we are at bottom of Lincoln Financial Field. People everywhere its like a hive full of green bees, and the buzz is deafening. We often have to turn sideways just to squeeze between people as we walk the battalion to get to our section. I follow Jake, unreassuring about getting separated, because I would be lost for sure.We hit the mens room, and Jake gets everyone inside to sing the Eagles fight song again. The lines for the urinals are long, and I am amazed that no one pees in the sinks, because at the Vet at least up in the 700 Level all sinks were used as extra urinals.When we finally g et to our seats, we are in the end zone, only twenty or so rows up from the field.How did you get such good tickets? I ask Jake.I know a guy, he replies, and smiles proudly.Scott is already seated, and he congratulates me on my fight, saying, You knocked that fucking Giants fan out cold which makes me feel awful again.Jake and Scott high-five just about everyone in the section, and as the other fans call Scott and my brother by name, it becomes obvious that they are quite a popular here.When the beer man comes around, Scott buys us a round, and I am amazed to find a cup holder in the seat in front of me. You would never see such a sumptuosity item at the Vet.Just before the Eagles players are announced, clips from the Rocky movies are shown on the huge screens at each end of the field Rocky running by the old Navy Yard, Rocky punching sides of complain in the meat locker, Rocky running up the steps of the art museum and Jake and Scott keep saying, Thats you. Thats you, until I worry that someone will hear them, understand that I just fought the Giants fan in the parking lot, and tell the police to take me back to the bad place.When the Eagles starting lineup is announced, fireworks explode and cheerleaders outpouring and everyone is standing and Jake keeps on pounding my back with his hand and strangers are high-fiving me, and suddenly I stop thinking about my fight in the parking lot. I begin to think about my dad watching the game in our family room my mother serving him buffalo wings and pizza pie and beers, hoping the Eagles win just so her economize will be in a good mood for a week. I again wonder if my dad will start talking to me at night if the Eagles pull out a advantage today, and suddenly its kickoff and I am cheering as if my life depends on the outcome of the game.The Giants score first, but the Eagles adjudicate with a touchdown of their own, after which the whole stadium sings the fight song punctuated by the Eagles chant with deaf ening pride.Late in the first quarter, Hank Baskett gets his first catch of his NFL career a twenty-five-yarder. Everyone in our section high-fives me and pats me on the back because I am wearing my ordained Hank Baskett jersey, and I smile at my brother because he gave me such a great present.The game is all Eagles after that, and at the start of the one- 4th quarter the Eagles are up 24 7. Jake and Scott are so happy, and I am beginning to imagine the conversation I am going to have with my father when I get home how proud he will be of my yelling whenever Eli Manning was trying to call a play.But then the Giants score seventeen unanswered points in the fourth quarter, and the Philadelphia fans are shocked.In overtime, Plaxico Burress goes up and over Sheldon Brown in the end zone, and the Giants leave Philadelphia with a win.It is awful to watch.Outside of the Linc, Scott says, Better not come back to the tent. That asshole will be there waiting, for sure.So we say goodbye to Scott and follow the masses to the subway entrance.Jake has tokens. We go through the turnstiles, come underground, and push our way onto an already jam-packed subway car. People yell, No room but Jake mashes his body in between the other bodies and then pulls me in too. My brothers chest is against my back strangers are smashed against my arms. The doors finally close, and my nose is almost touching the glass window.The smell of beer resurfacing through everyones sweat glands is pungent.I dont like being this close to so many strangers, but I dont say anything, and soon we are at urban center Hall.After we exit the train, we spin another turnstile, climb up into center city, and begin walking down trade Street, past the old department stores and the new hotels and The Gallery.You wanna see my apartment? Jake asks when we get to the Eighth and Market PATCO stop, which is where I can hop a train over the Ben Franklin Bridge to Collingswood.I do want to see Jakes apartment, but I am tired and hot to get home so I can do a little lifting before bed. I ask if I might see it some other time.Sure, he says. Its good to have you back, brother. You were a true Eagles fan today.I nod.Tell Dad the Birds will bounce back next week against San Fran.I nod again.My brother surprises me by giving me a two-armed hug and saying, I love you, bro. thank for getting my back in the parking lot.I tell him that I love him too, and then he is walking down Market Street singing Fly, Eagles, Fly at the top of his lungs.I locate underground, insert the five my mother gave me into the change machine, buy a ticket, stick it into the turnstile, arrive more stairs, hit the waiting syllabus, and begin to think about that little kid in the Giants jersey. How hard did he cry when he realized his father had been knocked out? Did the kid even get to see the game? A few other men in Eagles jerseys are sitting on the chrome benches. Each nods empathetically at me when they see my Hank Bas kett jersey. One man at the far end of the computer program yells, satanic fucking Birds and then kicks a metal trash can. Another man standing next to me shakes his head and whispers, Goddamn fucking Birds.When the train comes, I make to stand just inside the doors, and as the train slides across the dusk sky, over the Delaware River, across the Ben Franklin Bridge, I look at the city skyline, and again I start to think about that kid crying. I feel so awful when I think about that little kid.I get off the train at Collingswood, walk across the open-air platform and down the steps, stick my card into the turnstile machine, and then jog home.My mother is sitting in the family room, sipping tea. Hows Dad? I ask.She shakes her head and points at the TV.The screen is cracked so that it looks like a spiderweb. What happened?Your father smashed the screen with the reading lamp.Because the Eagles lost?No, actually. He did it when the Giants fastened the game at the end of the fourth quarter. Your father had to watch the Eagles blow the game on the bedroom television, Mom says. Hows your brother?Fine, I say. Wheres Dad?In his office.Oh.Im sorry your team lost, Mom says, just to be nice, I know.Its okay, I answer, and then go down into the basement, where I lift weights for hours and try to forget about that little Giants fan crying, but I still cant get the kid out of my mind.For whatever undercoat I fall asleep on the rug that covers part of the basement floor. In my dreams the fight happens again and again, only instead of the Giants fan bringing a kid to the game, the Giants fan brings Nikki, and she too is wearing a Giants jersey. Every time I knock the big guy out, Nikki pushes through the crowd, cradles Steves head in her hands, kisses his forehead, and then looks up at me.Just before I run away, she says, Youre an animal, Pat. And I will never love you again.I cry through my dreams and try not to hit the Giants fan every time the memory flashes through my mind, but I cant control my dream self any more than I could control my a awaken self after see the blood on Jakes hands.I wake up to the sound of the basement door being closed, and I see the light streaming in through the small windows over the washer and dryer. I walk up the steps, and I cannot believe the sports pages are there.I am very upset about the dream I had, but I realize it was only a dream, and despite everything that has happened, my father is still exit me the sports pages after one of the worst Eagles losings in history.So I take a deep breath. I allow myself to feel hopeful again and start my exercise routine.