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Show 86, Jeffries, Islamorada [Section 2] What can be said about the game. The fuzz had brought in some ringers from the park service, and the police warmed up with a noticeable martinet meanness; they were still looking to win one of these things. Early on a punt the cop team got him; he lay in that time-distended moment every little kid knows, Coach came running, "Wha-did they ring your bell?" No, he thought, eyes following the coach in silent exasperation, they knocked the--start me breathing!-- wind outta me. . . Rubber-legged to the sidelines. He thought he could pick out a bad apple screaming in the stands. "This is Dr. Morgan," they introduced, "team physician Dr. Fox, here, team dentist, how's your teeth-you got a new dentist down here yet?" "Christmas," Dr. Morgan smiled. "What?" Dory Clayton pried his helmet off. "This game. It comes once a year. These poor old guys crashing into each other." He smiled at the dentist. "An orthopedists' Christmas." Dory walked down to the Atlantic. Back through the shadows the clicking and screams of the game became acoustically strange. All the fish in the strait had come in. Drawn to the high banks of light. Invertibrates sidling in |
