By the time our announcer had uttered his last cliché of the night, the parking lot was empty. It made it easy to find his car, but when he turned the key, nothing happened, so much for the line about the non-stop motor. No, someone or something had short-circuited his high-powered attack and now he set out on foot.
He walked to the edge of the parking lot, near an opening in the chained-link fence where there was still some stadium lot lights on. In search of assistance, he approached the opening hoping to find a lot attendant or some other human to maybe give him a jump or in some other way help diagnose his problem. Outside of the fence was a work crew preparing for overnight construction and he told these road graders of his predicament but they were busy moving the chains and other heavy equipment and directed him to a gas station about four blocks down. Maybe they would hit paydirt in the wee hours of the morning though they couldn’t be bothered now. Announcer boy craned his neck to look in the direction the workers pointed. It was dark, pitch black, except for a dim flicker of light maybe a mile or so up the road. Against his better judgment he started off down the dark street, although he hoped it would be just a brisk walk, he essentially decided to run to daylight.
After a minute or two, he passed a sign, a city limits sign, that read, entering four-down territory. Thinking it odd to be in a territory when he thought he was in Kansas City, he picked up the pace and decided to give 110 percent. He passed a ranch-like house with long picket fence, the one with the big horses up front and then a church and he considered knocking on the door and possibly offering a Hail Mary. He picked up a rock, initially for protection, and while he had all day to throw he eventually decided to take a shot downfield when it appeared people were coming off the edge. He remembered back to his high school days when they called him a real gunslinger, but this nervous toss was a wounded duck, in fact, he wished he had that one back and he took consolation that it was airborne long enough to pass between two eucalyptus trees – in essence splitting the uprights.
He could clearly make out the service station now and he enjoyed a wave of confidence until he was startled by a Collie that rushed by him and crossed the street. He had pinned his ears back and if there was a food source over there he had certainly sniffed it out but as he approached the little gas station he saw instead the pooch greeting his owner, putting a lick on him.
The filling station, that was what the announcer believed they called them in Kansas City, was empty, just an old clerk counting a big stack of Bic lighters and a girl playing an old-school pinball machine called Aerial Circus, hoping to get to the next level. The man moved the pile, looked up and said, “If you pick six, I’ll give ’em to you for a buck apiece.” The girl suspiciously looked over her should and put two more quarters in the machine, hoping her second effort would be better and that she could milk the clock for just one more game. “Actually, I don’t really need a light, my car broke down back at the stadium.”
“You’re not gonna find a tow truck this time of night, better off getting a room up at the Pitch-n-Catch motel up the street and take care of it in the morning.” Before the stranded announcer could reply, the old guy started back up. “I remember watching a game in that old stadium maybe thirty years ago, Kansas City had a back with breakaway speed, no ground and pound for that kid, none of this dinking and dunking passing shit just downhill running …”
And so it went for the next hour or so. Our announcer knew he was fucked, he had hoped to, well, run a quick two-minute drill find some help but now he saw that the sun was coming up so he retraced his steps back to the stadium. When he got there he found a tow truck driver bullshittin’ with the construction crew. When the driver saw him, he jumped out of the truck wearing a football jersey, he had a name badge he was putting on, put it right on the numbers.
Turns out when the driver popped the hood he saw a battery cable had come loose, just a bit, maybe the width of two fingers. Life they say is a game of inches.