"He's a mess.Drinks heavily, lots of women, throws cash around everywhere.Looks ten years older."
"Why am I not surprised? Does he still fight?"
"All the time.Be careful what you say about Rake. Nobody loves him like Silo. He'll come after you."
"Don't worry."
As the center on offense and the noseguard on defense, Silo Mooney owned the middle of every field he played on. He was just under six feet tall with a physique that resembled, well, a silo: everything was thick—chest, waist, legs,arms . WithNeely and Paul, he started for three years. Unlike the other two, Silo averaged three personal fouls in every game. Once he had four, one in each quarter. Twice he got ejected for kicking opposing linemen in the crotch. He lived for the sight of blood on the poor boy lined up against him. "Got that sumbitch bleedin' now," he would growl in the huddle, usually late in the first half. "He won't finish the game."
"Go ahead and kill him," Neely would say, egging on a mad dog. One less defensive lineman madeNeely's job much easier.
No Messina player had ever been cursed by Coach Rake with as much frequency and enthusiasm as Silo Mooney. No one had deserved it as much. No one craved the verbal abuse as much as Silo.
At the north end of the bleachers, down where the rowdies from the county once raised so much hell, an older man moved quietly up to the top row and sat down. He was too far away to be recognized, and he certainly wanted to be alone. He gazed at the field, and was soon lost in his own memories.
The first jogger appeared and began plodding counterclockwise around the track. It was the time of day when the runners and walkers drifted to the field for a few laps. Rake had never allowed such nonsense, but after he was sacked a movement arose to open the track to the people who'd paid for it. A maintenance man was usually loitering somewhere nearby, watching to make sure no one dared step on the grass of Rake Field. There was no chance of that.
"Where's Floyd?"Neely asked.
"Still in Nashville picking his guitar and writing bad music.Chasing the dream."
"Ontario?"
"He's here, working at the post office. He and Takita have three kids. She's teaching school and as sweet as always. They're in church five times a week."
"So he's still smiling?"
"Always."
"Denny?"