Caleb Philpot recognized the hour. It was time for afternoon sunlight. He’d heard the boys meander their way to the field, and Doc Mastes was coming down the hall, right on cue. Like one of Pavlov’s dogs, the old man hobbled toward the door at the sound of jingling keys.
Doc Mastes opened the door and gave Caleb a long, but compassionate stare.
“Caleb, you ready to watch the boys practice?” The doc sounded off the usual routine.
Caleb wasn’t a talker in his Nazi cell. Not like a couple of the others he heard squealing in the night air so many years ago. There’s something uncouthabout a man willing to trade pain for information, or information for pain, something base and rudimentary that worked above the simple survival instincts of human beings. Caleb never fingered exactly what it was; he knew he lacked the mental capacity to articulate it as a prisoner of war, and now, well, he was lucky to remember to wipe himself after bowel movements.
Doc Mastes ushered Caleb into his waiting wheelchair and strapped him in. He noticed the wince of pain shudder across his patient as he tightened down the straps. The tumor had nearly doubled in size over the pasteighteen months, and as a doctor of nearly thirty years, he knew what was coming next. Maybe even before the beginning of next season. With only a mild concern for Philpot, Doc Mastes cursed the fact that he’d not been able to unlock any of the tumor’s secrets. They hid there inside Caleb, under the fleshy folds of skin and leaking pus.
“It’s getting bigger, Caleb. And I imagine even more painful. I hate to see it go… to see you go.”
Somewhere between the tumor and the man, an ugly truth found its way to the surface in the doctor's speech.
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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