Early September. Almost autumn. Baseball season winding down, football heating up, nice weather. Really nice weather. A good time to golf. If you were ambitious, it was a good time for eighteen holes, followed by a couple of hours of backgammon, topped off by poker into the wee hours of the morning.

Frank didn't consider himself to be terribly ambitious.

Maybe that was why he only played nine holes.

Maybe he just didn't want to get too lit.

Frank never got through nine holes without being a couple sheets to the wind. He figured if he went 18 he might not be able to walk.

The crew he golfed with always had an extra cart for beer, along with the odd pint of bourbon. Frank noticed that this bar on wheels didn't have a roll-bar. Neither did any of the other carts. Frank liked to say that when the carts got roll-bars, he'd roll through a full 18 holes.

Loosen up a little, Frank.

Truth was, Frank wasn't much of a golfer. Maybe he liked walking around (or riding) in the nice, clean, green open spaces, flanked by little groves of oak and pine. Or maybe he golfed for the conversation. Lofty minds, floating in a sea of booze, debating great causes and the days events.

"So who you got? Ohio State or Texas?"

Frank steadied himself on one of his grandfather's clubs. "I'm liking taking Texas and the point, but I think they're snakebit. Ohio State is probably overrated, but they're at home, and the 'horns are a bunch of choke artists."

"Well then--"

"I'm sitting that one out. Reminds me of Auburn-LSU last year."

"What happened again?"

"I figured LSU was co-champs, Auburn hadn't proven themselves yet, and LSU shouldn't be a dog, even if it was at Auburn."

"So--"

"I was wrong. Auburn won, 10-9."

"So you lost."

"No. I got LSU while the spread was 1 1/2. They covered."

Frank wasn't sure he was making his point. Whatever. There was no law saying you had to bet on every game.

"So who else you like?"

"Nebraska giving six at home against Wake Forest."

"Yeah?"

"Nah." Money's coming in on Wake. Word's out. Nebraska sucks. They aren't Nebraska anymore."

"Who are they?"

"I'd say they're about 30 years from becoming the next Penn State, give or take a decade."

"Huh?"

"They're already living off their past rep and suckering their followers into expecting a turnaround. Now they just have to keep the same coach long enough for him to get senile."

Frank looked up expectantly. One of these days he was going to make some crack about Joe Paterno and someone was going to take a swing at him. Ted just got quiet. Frank knew that look. Ted saw him as a boor and a ruffian. Talking about the old man was like talking religion or politics. Seriously. Frank doubted he could offend as many people making jokes about the pope. Maybe the late pope....or the Virgin Mary. Frank considered them off limits, unless they started trying to intercede in the BC-Notre Dame game. If they did they were fair game.

Frank had a feeling there wouldn't be much more conversation from Ted. Fuck it, only a couple more holes to go.


As the sun set on the country club, Frank bellied up to the bar with a Backgammon board and Jimmy. Jimmy didn't play golf. He'd just now arrived. Honestly, Frank was mildly surprised that the club let Jimmy in. Geez, if they'll let Jimmy in here maybe I should join a more exclusive club. Frank washed down the Beam & Bud aftertaste down with a gin & tonic before switching over to coffee. As the caffiene took hold, Frank became more animated. The air was filled with the sounds of rolling dice, mixed with a healthy measure of talking shit, as was their custom. Frank liked to talk shit while playing backgammon because it really didn't require much concentration on his part, at least not against the locals. Truthfully, he didn't really need to be sober to play backgammon well either. But as much shit as he talked as he got hopped up on java, mostly Frank talked football.

"I'm taking Cal, giving nine at Washngton. They got QB problems, but Washington's got PROBLEMS. Fresno State destroyed them last year. Notre Dame destroyed them."

"Now they've got Notre Dame's coach."

"Good. It'll be a very intriquing matchup--until the kickoff, when Notre Dame destroys them again."

"Great. But who cares about the west coast? USC's the only team out there that matters."

"Well, Cal almost beat 'SC last year. But fine. Here's your east coast pick: V-Tech at Duke. Give the points."

"How many points?"

"Twenty. On the road. Do it anyway. We're talking top ten team vs. (according to ESPN), bottom ten team. Marcus Vick did respectably well against what was last year's #1 defense in the nation, beating NC State last week. This week he goes hog wild."

"Stella!"

"Stella!" The local backgammonners always yell Stella when they roll double fours. Unless it is a low-key game. Then they just say Stella.

"What about Michigan-Notre Dame?"

"Mmmmm...seven point spread."

"Michigan favored?"

"Of course."

"So?"

"I want 7 1/2, but I'm taking Notre Dame anyway."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Supposedly Michigan's offense is awesome, but look what Notre Dame did to Pitt last week. All that scoring was in the first half."

Jimmy perked up at this. "Yeah, Michigan doesn't really have a "D." Their defensive coordinator was last seen putting flyers from a Chinese restaurant under wiper blades at an Ann Arbor mall."

"I thought it was a Ypsilanti mall."

Jimmy considered. "Hmmmm...maybe a strip mall. I don't think Ypsi' has any real shopping malls."

"Good point," Frank agreed. Betting aside, he liked to get his digs in against Michigan when he got the chance. As for the digs against Ypsilanti, well, those were just inevitable.

Something occurred to Frank. "You know, if JoePa coached at EMU, people probably wouldn't mind if you talked shit about him."

"Huh?"

"Just something I've been thinking about. You know, the way people look at you like you're unclean if you suggest that Paterno ought to hang it up."

"As I recall, you've mentioned 'firing his ass' in the past."

"Yes I have."

Jimmy took a deep breath and stared at Frank, the stare of someone who was about to release a deep truth. "If Joe Paterno was at Eastern, nobody would talk about him at all. Nobody would know who he was."

Frank wasn't sure he was willing to take it that far. This was turning into a deep philosophical question. Sort of a nature vs. nurture question. After all, maybe EMU would have a couple of national championships if Joe was there. Maybe the MAC would be considered a football powerhouse conference. Maybe Penn State should've joined the MAC, conferring upon them instant legitimacy....Maybe--

Jimmy nodded towards the far side of the bar. "Looks like the poker crowd's arriving. I think we've got quorum now."

Frank followed his glance across the room. "Lets go get the table ready." Joe Paterno's virtues and vices, such as they were, would have to be put on hold. They had work to do.