Roy finished tying the rope around the child and himself. “You know what we’re going to do now, right?” Roy asked him.
“Yeah,” replied the child.
“Is everyone ready?” called Stanley.
“Ready,” was the unanimous reply.
“Set….GO!” yelled Stanley.
Roy and Chris started to run but fell flat on their face. “Come on, Daddy. This leg first!” yelled Chris in his excitement patting their jointly tied legs.
Roy got up and began running again, “Left leg, right leg, left leg, right leg,” he repeated to himself over and over.
“Come on, Daddy. FASTER!” yelled Chris excitedly. They fell once more before making it to the finish line, coming in next to last. Chris was disappointed but Roy was just happy they made it in one piece. He proceeded to untie the rope.
Seeing his son’s disappointment, Roy knelt down and gave him a big hug, “You did great! Now let’s go congratulate the winners.”
“I don’t wanna,” replied Chris miserably.
“Now, Chris, you have to be a good sport when you don’t win,” said Roy still kneeling, “Besides winning isn’t the most important thing, you know.”
“It’s not?” asked Chris, startled out of his misery for a moment.
“Of course not,” replied Roy, “I think the most important thing is being here with you and your mother and your sister, don’t you?” asked Roy, giving a brief glance at Molly and Jeanine competing in the egg-toss, then brightening as he caught sight of his own wife and daughter.
“Well…,” hesitated Chris, “Maybe not sissy,” he replied, exposing his sibling rivalry.
Roy laughed and gave him another hug. “Let’s go and tell the others what a good job they did, okay?” said Roy.
“Okay, Daddy,” agreed Chris.
Roy lifted the boy up and put him on his shoulders. “Gee Whiz, you’re getting heavy. What has your mom been feeding you?” asked Roy. Chris giggled.
They walked up to the podium under the Fireman’s Picnic banner. Stanley was saying, “… and the winners of the three-legged race are Kent and Kevin Southersby.” Roy and Chris cheered along with the rest of the competitors.
“Let’s go see what your mom and sissy are doing,” suggested Roy, as he started jogging toward the far end of the clearing.
“Faster, Daddy, faster,” giggled Chris. Roy pretended to run into some low hanging tree limbs, and Chris squealed, “DUCK.”
“A duck? Where?,” asked Roy looking around in mock astonishment.
“Daddy, you’re silly!” laughed Chris. Roy lifted the boy off his shoulders as they approached the rest of his family.
“How did you do?” Joanne asked Chris, giving Roy a quick kiss.
“We didn’t win,” said Chris a little sadly, “But we were good sports,” he added proudly. Roy smiled.
“Well, I’m proud of you,” said his mother, giving him a quick hug. “Why don’t you and your sister go play with the rest of the children,” said Joanne.
“Okay,” replied Chris, and he and his sister ran to join in the game.
Roy and his wife stood for a moment, arm in arm, smiling, watching their children run around with all the others in what appeared to be a game of blind-man’s-bluff. Amazingly all the children seemed to be getting along, at least for a moment, and had even managed to get a few of the adults to join in. Chet was particularly foolish-looking in his blindfold as he growled and made mock grabs at the kids.
Roy and Joanne turned to make their way back to the main picnic area. They approached one of the tables where Johnny was sitting very close to a pretty young lady and talking in low tones.
“Uh oh,” said Roy, noticing another young lady approaching the table from behind Johnny. “I think we’d better sit over here instead,” said Roy, taking Joanne’s arm and steering her to another table where Dixie, Brackett, and Early sat. “Mind if we join you?” asked Roy.
“The more the merrier,” replied Early.
Roy purposely chose to sit with his back toward Johnny’s table, Joanne looked briefly over her shoulder as they sat down, but Roy said, “Don’t look, Honey, it won’t be pretty.”
Joanne turned her attention to Early and the rest, but they could all hear Johnny’s voice clearly, “Cynthia, what are you doing here?….I mean…ah…I thought you said you couldn’t make it.”
Everyone tried to ignore Johnny’s table. Joanne turned to Dixie, “I have those scrubs you lent Roy last week, don’t let me forget to give them to you before we leave.”
A woman’s voice drifted in from behind the table, “So! You think that entitles you to find someone else?” followed by Johnny’s stammering reply, “Ah, yeah, I mean no, I mean…”
“Thanks,” replied Dixie, trying to ignore the other conversation. “You should have seen him. He was a mess. Covered in mud from head to toe!”
“Well you can just have her,” the voice said. A new female voice joined in the conversation, “Have me? I don’t think so!” and Johnny’s voice again, “Ah, no, wait, you have it all wrong….”
Dixie tried to continue their conversation, “I don’t think I ever got to tell you thank you for the hair dryer, Joanne.”
“Well, the guys wanted to get you something nice for your birthday. They sure think the world of you,” said Joanne, pleased.
Roy turned to Dr. Brackett, “How’s the Anderson boy?”
“He’s going to be just fine thanks to you and Johnny here,” replied Brackett. Roy looked up as Johnny approached the table.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked miserably.
“The more the merrier,” replied Early.
“Guess you heard, huh?” asked Johnny.
“Don’t worry,” said Roy, “The day is still young, you never know who might show up.”
“Yeah,” replied Johnny wryly, having found that out firsthand. But he knew Roy didn’t mean it in that way.
“Did I hear you say the Anderson boy is going to be okay,” Johnny asked Brackett, taking a seat.
“Yeah, thanks to you and your partner here,” replied Brackett.
“That’s good, he’s a real nice kid,” said Johnny.
Chet approached the table. He was breathing hard and covered with sweat. He plopped down on an empty part of their bench. “Waaaater,” he cried pitifully. Dixie laughed and handed him her cup.
“Not as young as you used to be, huh?” she teased.
“Don’t rub it in,” he replied between gulps of water.
Stanley came over. “Who wants to play some ball?” he asked, briskly rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
“Not me, Cap,” came Chet’s weary reply.
“Oh come on,” said Stanley, “I’ll let your team bat first to give you a chance to catch your second wind.”
“More like my fifth wind,” said Chet, but he rose from the table.
“Who else?” asked Stanley.
“I’m in,” said Johnny. “It’s not as if I have anything better to do,” he thought to himself.
“I used to be a pretty good pitcher,” said Dixie.
“Great, we could use a pitcher,” said Stanley. He looked at the rest of the table. Apparently there were no more takers.
Dixie looked at them in mock disgust. “The least you can do it come and cheer,” she said.
Early turned to Brackett, “She’s right, you know.”
“Isn’t she always?” replied Brackett. They rose.
“The last holdouts?” Brackett directed his comment to
Roy and Joanne.
“All right, all right,” said Roy raising his hands above his head, “We give up. Come on, Ann.” He said, using her nickname. They rose to join the rest.
***
It was the bottom of the seventh inning stretch and things weren’t going well for Chet and Johnny’s team. Chet was currently playing left field, Johnny was playing center. Seems Dixie wasn’t a ‘pretty good pitcher’, she was a fantastic pitcher, and a darn good hitter too. Too bad she was on the other team.
Roy couldn’t figure out why Chet and Johnny were on the same team. “You’d think they’d follow their natural instincts and play against each other,” he thought to himself. He watched as Kent Suthersby hit a high fly left of center. Johnny and Chet both ran for it, watching the ball, not paying attention to where they were going. They ran smack into each other, the force of the impact knocking them down. The ball dropped to the ground and Kent took his bases. “Just like one of those old comedies,” Roy thought.
Johnny rolled to his feet slowly, the wind knocked out of him. He leaned over to give Chet a hand up but Chet wasn’t moving. He leaned down to see if Chet was faking it. “I’ll be damned,” thought Johnny, “He’s out like a mackerel.” He stood up and shouted to Stanley, “He’s out cold.”
“You’re kiddin’,” said Stanley standing up and pulling off his catcher’s mask. Johnny shook his head.
Roy, Early and Brackett looked at each other incredulously. My bag’s in my car, said Brackett, heading toward the parking lot. Roy and Early jogged over to Chet. Early knelt down to examine him.
“You sure he’s not fakin’, Doc,” asked Stanley. Chet had quite a reputation.
Early peeled back an eyelid. “Nope, he’s out like a light,” said Early, looking up at Stanley, squinting in the sun.
“Is he going to be all right?” asked Stanley.
“Oh, I expect he’ll come to in another minute or so,” said Early.
Stanley was relieved. “Okay, everyone, the food should be about ready, why don’t we go eat?” he said, ushering people towards the picnic area and away from Chet.
Brackett passed the group as he jogged up. He knelt down by Early and opened up his bag, handing his colleague the penlight. Early leaned over Chet, checking his pupils.
Chet stirred and batted at Early’s hand, turning his head away. “Stop shining that damn light in my eyes,” he said irritably. Early put the penlight in his pocket. Chet looked up at them, “What are you all standing around for, and what am I doing on the ground?” he asked, annoyed.
“You were out cold,” goaded Johnny, grinning. Roy glared at him. He assumed a more sober expression.
“Do you remember what happened?” asked Early.
Chet thought for a moment. “Yeah, pop fly to left field,” he said, glaring up at Johnny.
“Center field,” countered Johnny.
“Left field,” persisted Chet. “Can I get up now?”
“Sure,” said Early, keeping his hand on Chet’s back as he sat up. “Still feel okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” said Chet. Roy offered him a hand up the rest of the way. Chet took it and stood swaying a bit.
“You sure you’re okay?” Early asked him again.
“A little sore,” replied, rubbing his shoulder.
“I imagine so,” said Early, chuckling as he recalled the collision.
Chet looked around the field and noticed it was empty. “Where’d everybody go?”
“Soup’s on,” said Johnny.
“Well what are we standing around here for?” asked Chet, “Let’s eat!” He walked off towards the picnic area.
Roy shook his head and rolled his eyes. Brackett picked up his bag then reached over and plucked his penlight from Early’s pocket, dropping it into the bag before snapping it shut.
“Like the man said, what are we waiting for?” said Brackett, and started toward the picnic area. The rest looked at each other and shrugged. They jogged to catch up with him.
When they got to the picnic area, they saw Chet sitting at a table, arguing with Dixie. “We won fair and square,” she said, taking a bite of potato salad.
“The game’s not over,” insisted Chet, munching on a drumstick.
“Don’t you think you’d better give up while you’re ahead, Chet?” needled Johnny, chewing on a burger. “After all, you’re not as young as you used to be,” he said, purposely echoing Dixie’s earlier comment.
Bracket, Early and Roy picked up paper plates and proceeded to load them with food. They joined the table where Joanne and the kids were already eating. Roy looked at Chris and grinned, the boy had corn-on-the-cob all over his face.
“If it wasn’t for you, Johnny-baby, we’d be ahead,” replied Chet.
“They’re not being good sports are they, Daddy?” asked Chris. Roy smiled at him.
That ball was center field and you know it, Chet.” said Johnny, reaching over the table for ketchup.
“Left field.” insisted Chet, sliding the ketchup bottle toward Johnny’s outstretched hand.
“Don’t they ever give up?” Early asked, amused.
Roy gave a long-suffering sigh, “Never.”
"Games People Play" ©1999 Erika Bartlett. "Emergency!" and its characters © Mark VII Productions, Inc. All rights reserved. No infringement of any copyrights or trademarks is intended or should be inferred. This is a work of fiction, and any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
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