after a phenomenally awful round.
âI remember you,â the man said.
Iggie found his glasses and put them on, adopting his professional smile.
âFrom South Bend.â
âA Domer!â Iggie stood, managing to catch his towel before he would look like Adam in Eden, before the fall. âWhat year?â
âI lived in Alumni Hall.â
âSo did I!â
âI know.â
âSo whatâs your name?â
âGeorge Wintheiser.â
Iggie nearly dropped his towel again. Pearlâs name was Wintheiser.
âWerenât you on the team?â he managed to say.
Wintheiser bent and looked him in the steamy glasses. âLeave my wife alone.â
He went off to his locker, and Iggie darted back into the shower. Could all great Neptuneâs ocean wash this guilt from off his soul? He stood under water as cold as he could stand. He warmed it up a little and remained under the shower. He was still wearing his glasses. Oh, to hell with it. He wanted to make damned sure Wintheiser had dressed and left before he got out of the shower.
âI met your husband,â he said to Pearl the next day.
âIâm getting a divorce.â
âCome on, youâre Catholic.â
âYou sound like George.â
âWhat happened between you two, Pearl?â He tried for a concerned tone, the tone of a man anxious to help her in her troubles.
âWhat did he say happened?â
âNo need to go into that.â
It was an inspiration. He had transferred his panic to Pearl.
âI think he wants to get back together with you.â
âDid he say that?â
âPearl, he spoke in confidence. One Notre Dame man to another.â
âTo hell with Notre Dame.â
âYou canât mean that.â
This time her sobbing did not unnerve him. He patted her shoulder and managed to keep his hand from sliding down her back.
âGive it another chance, Pearl.â
It worked! Well, at least it cooled any ardor Pearl had felt for him. She apparently thought he knew all sorts of things he didnât. Ignorance is power.
With half his problem settled, he began telephoning Miriam regularly at her motherâs.
âWhat did you tell her, sweetheart?â
âIs that all that bothers you?â
âCome home. Please.â
He sent her flowers, using their regular florist. He asked her to come to the Boston College game with him.
That was before the disastrous season began. Iggie would never have admitted it to himself, but he welcomed the vast distraction of the string of defeats with which the Notre Dame season began. He felt betrayed rather than a traitor. It was a good warm feeling. He got the fellow who had computerized his billing system to set up the Web site CheerCheerFor Old NotreDame. The response was terrific. He flew back and forth to South Bend, a man with a mission. Charlie Weis had become his scapegoat.
10
Rimini was surprised and flattered that Wintheiser even knew that he had once been on the team, a member of the sacrificial squad that the varsity team played against in preparation for games. Nonetheless, aching, covered with mud and grass stains, the young Rimini had hobbled from the practice field on those long-ago afternoons, his helmet swinging from his hand, with the sense that he was an integral part of Notre Dame football. One step up from a tackling dummy, but what the hell, it had prepared him for life. He had never been able to duplicate that sense of exhausted achievement.
âWhere would we have been without you guys?â Wintheiser had said in response to Riminiâs self-deprecating remark. It was a sports banquet kind of remark, but Rimini appreciated it nonetheless. He had reached an age when he grasped at any laurel offered.
Not that he and the enormous Wintheiser had been students at the same time. Wintheiser was fifteen, twenty years younger. Still, there seemed an easy camaraderie between them when
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