Ransom’s initial impression of the field didn’t match his expectation. He had imagined that with such an impressive string of wins, that the local populace took their sports seriously. Everything he saw ripped apart this imagination. The school itself appeared to be in a state of extreme disrepair. The field was covered in grass much taller than any other he’d seen. The goalposts were rusty and covered in chipped paint, and the practice sled for the linemen was overgrown in thick weeds. It appeared as though it hadn’t been used in ages.
“I know it may not look like much, but hell neither does my wife in the morning. That doesn't mean we don't get happy every now and then!” Barton offered more information that Ransom needed.
The mayor was obviously quite used to what he was seeing. He was like a kid in a candy store, and the gleam in his eyes reminded Ransom of a former player reliving his glory days just by stepping foot on a football field.
“I will tell you this Ransom, Bethlehem field has a richer history than the deed itself if you know what I mean. Ain't a man in the universe can claim this kind of victory on the field of female flesh, that's for damn sure!”
Ransom’s discomfort with Barton’s unapologetic mixture of sex and football caused him to turn his head just in time to see a man in a wheelchair being pushed by what appeared to be a doctor of sorts. The men situated up on the hill were looking down at the practice field and had clearly noticed him.
“Who's that?” Ransom asked, pointing up the hill.
“You're a curious one, aren't you?” A look of seriousness crossed the mayor’s face and he continued, “That there's Caleb Philpot.”
“He looks pretty ill. Why does he come here, does one of his grandchildren play or something?”
“No, no. He's our janitor... too sick to do the work anymore, but we keep him around anyway. We fixed him a place up inside the school. He's got no family left.”
“Kind of you to do; what's wrong with him?”
“Cancer of some sorts. At least that's what Doc says.”
“Is that Doc pushing him?”
“Yeah. Doc's been with us over 25 years. Taken care of many of us too. He's a good man.” Ransom could tell that Barton wasn’t totally convinced. Call it ‘reporter’s instinct.’
“Do you care if I talk with him while the boys are finishing up practice?”
“What you want to ask the Doc?”
Ransom was sure he was onto something by the way Barton shifted his posture. “I don't know. Maybe I'll ask him if any of your boys have been injured during a game.”
“I can answer that; never happened.”
“All these years and not even a sprained ankle?”
“Ankles sprains? Maybe. Ankles turn all the time. That ain't nothing. I'd say even a few angels get their ankles sprained from time to time… I know they've turned an ankle or two in my twisted head.” Barton sounded oddly gleeful as he spoke.
“I'd still like to talk to him, if that’s ok.”
Mayor Barton cursed to himself. He was in a pickle. If he refused, Ransom would only grow curious. If he obliged, he might have to let the cat out the bag. There was always a price to be paid when surrounded by idiots. Angered that his instructions to lock Caleb away were not followed, he agreed.
“Alright, but you better not disturb Caleb. He’s a real treasure to this town.”
A novel, presented in chapters.
A small town high school football team has gone largely unrecognized after forty years of consecutive wins and a young, ambitious reporter uncovers a stunning secret—behind the small town values and string of impressive athletic victories hides a bizarre pre-game ritual: each player must rub the bulging tumor of their school janitor for good luck. As the janitor's health begins to fade, the town unites around the local body politic to push for the world's first ever tumor transplant in a crazed attempt to save their winning streak. The transplant fails, creating even more fevered desperation to win at least one more game. The town’s proposed solution is both as sickening as it is outrageous: players will consume the tumor during a special called Eucharist served up by the town minister, thereby demonstrating just how far a group will go to stay on top in the ‘dog eat dog’ world of high school athletics.
This book is in no way meant to make light of the terrible disease of cancer, which took my grandfather and many others I have loved. It's a metaphor for a different kind of illness.
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