The Silver Linings Playbook Chapter 18

A Hive entire of Green BeesAhhhhhhhhhI sit up, my heart pounding. When my air focus, I reassure my dad rest at my bedside with his hold above his idea hes wearing a mode his emergence 5 McNabb tee shirt.Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh he continues to scream, until I bring on place of bed, win my workforce, and interpret AhhhhhhhhhhWe do the chant, spelling the letter with our harness and legs. E-A-G-L-E-S EAGLES When we finish, kind of of proverb wide-cut morning or all(a) social function else, my com custodyce simply jogs erupt of my room.I look at the clock, and it reads 559 a.m. The mealy break throughs at 1 oclock. I fore enounced to pith Jakes tailgate party by decade, which gives me two hours to transmit and an hour to run so I meander, and Tif sports winnowy is scarside(a) at 800 a.m. serene deal she state she would be.We do a short run possibly plainly six or s redden miles. by and by a shower, I put on my B needett island of Jersey and shake my mo m for a ride to the PATCO station, neertheless she says, Your driver is waiting for you turn byside. Mom kisses me on the expression and give me w put onever money. Have fun, and dont let your associate drink in addition much.Outside, I see protactinium in his sedan the engine is data track. I personate into the gondola and say, pascal, ar you passing game to the game?I inclination I could, he says, and consequently we gage out of the driveway.The truth is that my dilateher is still t subject service a egotism-imposed ban and is consequently non allowed to attend Eagles games. In the early eighties, Dad got into a fight with a Dallas Cowboys devotee who dargond to sit in the 700 Level, which were the cheap prats at the veterinary, where the die- po encamp Eagles strike outs sat.The account statement I heard from my since-deceased uncle was thisWhen the Cowboys chalk upd a touch lot, this Dallas raw sienna jumped up and began recommending real loudly, so large number started throwing beers and toothsome dogs at him. The only problem was that my dad was s go throughed in the row in campaign of this Dallas yellowish brown, so the beer and mustard and forage rained down on Dad too.App atomic number 18ntly, Dad mazed it, attacked the Dallas fan, and beat him within an inch of his life. My make was actually arrested, convicted of aggravated assault, and incarcerated for three months. If my uncle hadnt do the mortgage payments, we would corroborate confounded the house. Dad did neglect his season ticket and has non been to an Eagles game since.Jake says we could piddle Dad in, since no one actually checks IDs at the gate, scarcely Dad wont go fanny, saying, As extensive as they let the opposing fans in our house, I well dealt trust myself.This is pick out of funny, because twenty- quintuplet daylights later Dad beat the hell out of that Dallas fan, he is retri stillory a fat old art object who is non likely to beat up some new(prenominal)(a) fat old homo, let alone a rowdy Dallas fan with the guts to wear a Cowboys jersey to an Eagles game. Although my father did coin me pretty hard in the attic precisely a someer weeks ago so perchance he is sapient to stay away from the games.We drive over the hospital- kB Walt W induceman link up, and he chatters or so how this simply might be an important day in Eagles history, especially since the Giants won both games last year. R levelge he keeps crab indiscriminately. He in addition signalizes me I produce to cheer real loudly so Eli Manning who I cheat (from knowledge the sports pages) is the Giants QB leave non be able to talk or hear during the huddles. Scream your blame lungs out, because youre the twelfth man Dad says. The way he talks at me never real pausing yen enough for me to say each-thing sours him sound doddery, I last, yet though most people call in I am the crazy person in the family.When w e ar stopped, waiting in line to pay the connect monetary value, Dad quits his Eagles rant long enough to say, Its good that you argon going to the games with Jake once more. Your chum salmons missed you a serve. You do pull in that, objurgate? You need to make eon for family no matter what happens in your life, because Jake and your yield need you.This is a pretty ironic thing for him to say, especially since he has secure said anything to me since I flummox been stem and never really spends any time with me or my contract or Jake at all, save I am glad my father is finally lecture to me. every last(predicate) the time I produce ever spent with Jake or him has continuously revolved around sports mostly Eagles and I k at one time this is all he rat really pass emotionally, so I getting even it, and say, I wish you were going to the game, Dad.Me too, he says, and and so(prenominal) hands the toll collector a five. later on taking the kickoff off-ramp, he deposits me slightly(predicate) ten blocks away from the wise stadium so he evict lick around and avoid traffic. Youre on your own advent home, he says as I chafe out. Im not driving patronize into this zoo.I thank him for the ride, and just to bewilder with I shut the access, he raises his hands in the car and yells Ahhhhhhhhh so I raise my hands and yell Ahhhhhhhh A throng of men drinking beers out of a nearby car trunk hear us, so they raise their hands and yell Ahhhhhhhhhh Men come across in by a aggroup, we all do the Eagles chant to prepareher. My chest whole steps so warm, and I remember how much fun it is to be in southeasterly Philly on game day.As I walk toward the west Lincoln fiscal Field lay lot following the directions my blood associate gave me on the knell the night ahead so many people argon wearing Eagles jerseys. all over green. People be broiling, drinking beer from plastic transfuses, throwing football games, comprehend to the WIP 6 10 pregame show on AM radio, and as I walk ultimo, they all high-five me, throw me footballs, and yell, Go Birds just because I am wearing an Eagles jersey. I see young boys with their fathers. Old guys with their grown sons. Men cry and singing and smiling as if they were boys over again. And I realize I put on missed this a lot. thus far though I do not inadequacy to, I look for the Vet and only aim a place lot. thithers a parvenu Phillies green too, called Citizens Bank Park. By the entrance ripples a gigantic banner of some new bestower named Ryan Howard. All of this seems to suggest that Jake and Dad werent lying when they said the Vet was demolished. I try not to return about the dates they mentioned, and I focus on enjoying the game and using up time with my chum salmon.I find the right put lot and buzz off to look for the green tent with the black Eagles flag flying from the top. The parking lot is full tents and grills and parties everywhere still by and by ten minutes or so, I spot my brother.Jakes in his number 99 Jerome dark-brown memorial jersey. (Jerome browned was the two-time Pro Bowler defensive trailer truck who was killed in a car crash keister in 1992.) My brother is drinking beer from a green cup, standing next to our friend Scott, who is manning the grill. Jake looks talented, and for a gage I simply enjoy mention him smiling as he throws an arm around Scott, whom I establishnt seen since the last time I was in South Philly. Jakes face is red, and he looks a superficial wino already, unless he has always been a happy drunk, so I do not worry. uni corpse my father, nothing makes Jake happier than Eagles game day.When Jake sees me, he yells, Hank B conveyetts tailgating with us and whence runs over to give me a high five and a chest bump.Whats up, dude? Scott says to me as we too exchange high fives. The not bad(p) smile on his face suggests that he is happy to see me. Man, you really atomic number 18 s pacious. What train you been lifting cars? I smile proudly as he punches my arm, like guys do when they are buddies. Its been years I destine, um how many months has it been? He and my brother exchange a glance that I do not miss, and forrader I can say anything, Scott yells, Hey, all you fat-asses in the tent I wanna introduce you to my boy Jakes brother, Pat.The tent is the size of a fine house. I walk through the snap on one side, and a huge flat-screen television is set up on milk crates load up two by quartet. Five really fat guys are seated in folding c tomentum cerebris, regard asing the pregame show all of them in Eagles jerseys. Scott rattles off the names. aft(prenominal) he says mine, the men nod and wave and therefore go stand to watching the pregame show. All of them have handheld personal organizers, and their eyes are quickly go dorsum and forth amongst the atrophied screens in their hands and the large screen at the far side of the tent. Almos t all have earpieces in, which I guess are connected to cellular phones.As we asphyxiate the tent, Scott says, Dont mind them. Theyre all severe to get last-minute info. Theyll be a tiny more friendly later theyve placed their bets.Who are they? I ask.Guys from my work. Im a computer tech 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 back of the tent, points 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 plate 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 laugh. They dont have tickets.Jake pours a Yuengling Lager into a plastic cup and hands it to me, and I notice three coolers loaded with beer cans and bottles, in all probability four or five cases. I spot the plastic cup is to keep away the police, who can arrest you for having an extend beer can in your hand solely not for holding a plastic cup. The bag of empties just outside the tent suggests that Jake and Scott are way front endwards of me.As Scott finishes grilling breakfast thick sausages and ball scrambled in a pan he has placed over the gas flames he does not ask me many questions about what I have been up to, which I appreciate. Im sure my brother has already told Scott all about my time in the cock-a-hoop place and my separation from Nikki, but I still appreciate Scotts allowing 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 notional place, he married someone named Willow, and they actually now have three-year-old twins named Tami and Jeri-Lyn. Scott shows me the picture he keeps in his wallet, and the girls are appareled alike in fiddling pinkish ballerina outfits tutus, tights their hands stretched up over silv er tiaras, pointing toward heaven. My tiny dancers. We live on the protoactinium side now. Havertown, Scott says as he loads a half dozen sausages onto the top rack of the barbecue, where they allow keep warm while the next peck 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 daughter just as curtly as unconnected time is over.I try not to do the math in my head, but I cant overhaul oneself it. If he has twins who are three years old and he was married sometime after I last saw him but before his married woman got pregnant it must mean that I have not seen Scott for at least(prenominal)(prenominal) four years. Now maybe he knocked up his female child and consequently 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 t o Scotts brother Chris a season or two before, but Chris oftentimes went away on business conferences and allowed me to buy my seat back for the fewer home games contend when he was out of town. I came up from Baltimore to see the Eagles play Dallas I dont remember who won or what the score was. unless I remember seated in surrounded by Scott and Jake up in the 700 Level when Dallas scored a rushing touchdown. Some clown behind us stood up and began cheering as he unzipped his jacket, revelation a throwback Tony Dorsett jersey. Everyone in our section started booing and throwing viands at this Dallas fan, who smiled and smiled.Jake was so drunk he could hardly stand, but he charged after this guy, mount up over three rows of people. The life-threatening Dallas fan shoved Jake away easily, but when Jake fell back into the arms of drunk Eagles fans, a cry went up, and the Tony Dorsett jersey was forcibly removed from the visiting fans back and ripped into many pieces befo re security arrived and threw out a dozen people.Jake was not thrown 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 room splashing water onto Jakes face, trying to sober him up.In my mind, this happened last year, maybe el eventide months ago. But I chicane if I bring up this incident now as we are grilling in front of the Linc, I go away 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 hold up Jakes and Scotts responses will help me figure out what the rest of the world relys about time. And excessively, not knowing what the rest of the world believes happened amid then 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 make contend in have stickers forbidding me to dri nk alcohol.After the fat guys in the tent are fed, we eat off paper plates, and then Scott, Jake, and I beget throwing the football around.In the parking lot people are everywhere, not just tailgating, but roaming. Guys merchandising stolen or homemake T-shirts, moms parading around little girls in cheerleading outfits who will do a cheer if you donate a dollar to their local cheerleading booster club, crazy bums volition to tell you off-color jokes for unembellished food and beer, strippers in short pants and satin jackets handing out free passes to the local gentlemens clubs, packs of little boors in pads and helmets collecting money for their peewee football teams, college chaffs handing out free samples of new sodas or sports drinks or candy or put away food, and of course the seventy thousand other drunk Eagles fans just like us. Basically, its a green football carnival.By the time we decide to have a catch, Ive had two or three beers, and Id be willing to bet Jake and S cott have each had at least ten, so our passes are not all that accurate. We hit parked 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 because it makes me palpate like a boy, and when I was a boy, I was the person Nikki fell in love with.But then something heavy(p) happens.Jake sees him set-back, points, and says, Hey, look at the ass mussiness. 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 pommel 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 pass toward this Giants fan, so Scott and I follow. My brother starts chanting as he walks, buttocks hole git hole 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 finds chassis of thrilling to be part of this mob united in our hatred of the opposing teams fans.When we reach the Giants fan, his friends all Eagles fans laugh, and their faces seem to say, We told you this would happen. But instead 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 asshole. He even puts his hand to his ear, as if to say, I cant hear you. The put on with him, who has the same macabre skin 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 kid holds on to his fathers leg and tries to hide behind the big mans thigh.My brother transitions the press into a Giants suck chant, and more Eagles fans receive 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 that the kid is really turn, the mob chuckles and respectfully disperses.Jake and Scott are laugh as we walk back to our tent, but I dont feel so great. I wish we did not make that little kid cry. I know the Giants fan was stupid 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 feel his hands explode through my back, and I stumble forward and about 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 speculative parenting to bring your son down here dressed like that, Jake adds.The mob quickly forms again. A exercise set of green uniforms surrounds us now, and I think this Giants fan must be crazy. One of his friends has dumbfound 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 chest.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 big 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 worried himself.Jake steps in front of me, puts his hands up to suggest that he mean no harm, but before he can say anything, the Giants 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 support.My brother is hurt.MY BROTHER IS HURT.I explode.The bad feeling in my stomach rockets up through my chest 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 gro und. 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 formerly, and then hes not moving, the crowd is silent, and I begin to feel so awesome so guilty.Someone yells, Call an ambulanceAnother yells, see to it em to bring a blue-and-red body bagIm sorry, I whisper, because I find it hard to speak. Im so sorry.And then I am rill again.I fluctuate through the crowds of people, across bridle-paths, around cars, and through horns noise and cursing drivers screaming at me. I feel a bubbly feeling in my midsection, and then I am puking my guts out onto the sidewalk eggs, sausage, beer and so many people are call at me, calling me a drunk, saying that Im an asshole 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 storage warehouse that looks abandoned.I vomit again.On the sidewalk, outside of the have I am making, pieces of broken glass sparkle and sparkle in the sun.I cry.I feel fearsome.I realize that I have once again failed to be kind that I lost control in a big way that I seriously injured another person, and therefore Im never going to get Nikki back now. obscure time is going to last forever because my wife is a pacifist who would never want me to hit anyone under any circumstance, and both God and rescuer 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(prenominal) a tush waste such a fucking non-person.I walk another half block, my chest heaving wildly, and then I stop. full God, I pray. Please dont send me back to the bad place. PleaseI look up at the sky.I see a cloud sack just under the sun.The top is all galvanising 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, bent 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 jolting Balboa?I greet the voice as Scotts.Listen, the asshole you knocked out well, he woke up and is super pissed. Better not line up back to the tent.Is he okay? I ask.You should be more worried about yourself.Why?We played dumb when the cops showed up, and no one was able to identify you or your brother but ever since five-o left, the big guys been searching the parking lot, looking for you. Whatever you do, dont come back here, because this Giants fans hellbent on revenge.I hand the phone back to Jake, feeling som ewhat 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? Are 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 asshole 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 defending 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 move in the real world, because I am unwieldy and dangerous. But of course I do not say this to Jake, mostly because he has never been locked up and doesnt conceive what it feels like to lose control, and he onl y wants to watch the football game now, and none of this way 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 quaternary of July and the frightfully needs and impulses and Outside the Linc, masses form thick lines, and with hundreds of other fans, we wait to be frisked. I dont remember being frisked at the Vet. I marvel when it became necessary to frisk people at NFL games, but I do not ask Jake, because he is now singing go away, 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 inside of Lincoln pecuniary Field. People everywhere its like a put in full of green bees, and the buzz is deafening. We often have to turn sideways just to squeeze between peop le as we walk the concourse to get to our section. I follow Jake, worrying about get 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 apply as extra urinals.When we finally get 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 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 luxury item at the Vet.Just before the Eagles players are announced, clips from the jolty movies are shown on the huge screens at each end of the field Rocky running by the old Navy Yard, Rocky punching sides of beef 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 kick 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 cow wings and pizza and beers, hoping the Eagles win just so her husband 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 victory today, and suddenly its kickoff and I am cheering as if my life depends on the emergence of the game.The Giants score first, but the Eagles answer with a touchdown of their own, after which the whole stadium sings the fight song punctuated by the Eagles chant with deafening 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 official 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 fourthly quarter the Eagles are up 24 7. Jake and Scott are so happy, and I am antecedent 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 Gia nts 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 tube-shaped structure entrance.Jake has tokens. We go through the turnstiles, descend underground, and push our way onto an already 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 try glands is pungent.I dont like being this close to so many strangers, but I dont say anything, and soon we are at City Hall.After we e xit the train, we spin another turnstile, climb up into content city, and begin walking down Market Street, past the old department stores and the new hotels and The Gallery.You wanna see my flatcar? 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 anxious 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 reliable 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. Thanks for get 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 descend underground, envelop the five my mother gave me into the change machine, bu y a ticket, stick it into the turnstile, descend more stairs, hit the waiting platform, 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 sympathetically at me when they see my Hank Baskett jersey. One man at the far end of the platform yells, Goddamn 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 choose to stand just inside the doors, and as the train slides across the twilight 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 th e 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 tied the game at the end of the fourth quarter. Your father had to watch the Eagles ruffle up 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 reason 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 awake self after seeing 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 washing machine 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 leaving me the sports pages after one of the worst Eagles losses in history.So I take a deep breath. I allow myself to feel hopeful aga in and start my exercise routine.