Baseball Anyone?

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October 15, 2009.

The Judge looked down at his old friend, Jack Jenkins, Sr. “Have the parties reached a plea agreement” the Judge inquired. “Yes, Your Honor, the State agrees to a continuance for one year based upon good behavior. If at the end of one year, there are no further charges against this defendant, the case will be dismissed” the prosecutor answered. “Is this your understanding Mr. Goldstein?”, the judge asked. “Yes, your honor.”, Goldstein replied. “Then I accept the plea agreement”, the Judge replied. “Mr. Jenkins, this Court accepts the plea agreement and you’re very lucky that you are not standing before me after being convicted of the charge, because I would be sentencing you to thirty days in jail. If I see you again, then I will sentence you to jail”, the judge intoned.

Jenkins answered humbly, “Thank you, Judge, I’ve gotten a driver for the year and trust me, I won’t be back here.”

October 30, 2009.

“Son, I’m headed to Arizona for a month to play fantasy baseball. Can you make sure that Bridget gets to the Atlanta airport to send her back to Sweden?” Jack, Sr. directed. “Sure, dad, and we have a driver lined up for you in Arizona for a month, he’ll meet you at the airport.” Junior said. Junior then turned and walked away, shaking his head. The old man was nuts.

License and Registration Please

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September 12, 2009.

“Mr. Jenkins step out of the car, please”, the local policeman politely asked. “Do you know who I am son?” asked Jack, Sr. “Your license says, Jack Jenkins, sir. Have you had anything to drink, today?” “Just a couple sips of bourbon during the game, officer.” and I need you to count backward from ‘t’ to ‘m’”, the officer asked. “t, s, r, p, o, n, m.” Jack responded. “Okay now I need you to walk a straight line toe to toe”, the officer ordered. “I can’t do that, I blew out my knees in the NFL.”, Jack responded. “Okay, tilt your head backward, extend your arms and touch your nose like this”, the officer directed in almost a monotone. Jack, Sr. did and almost fell down. The officer then said, “Mr. Jenkins, I suspect that you’re driving under the influence, now you have a choice of whether you want to blow in this balloon or have blood drawn back at the station. Or you can refuse in which case I must take your license and you will be automatically suspended from driving for a year”, the officer spoke almost like a robot. “Take my license”, Jack, Sr., responded. “Okay, we’ll impound your car now, and a family member can pick it up at the impound lot, you’re riding with me to jail”, the cop ordered. “To jail?” Jack asked. “Yessir, I’ll be booking you on suspicion of driving under the influence”, the officer answered.

Once they arrived at the Station, the desk Sergent noticed that it was Jack Jenkins former star player and NFL player who was being booked. He called, Jack, Jr. “Junior, your Dad got pulled over for DUI, come and get him”. Junior looked at the young face in bed with him. “Sorry dear, I have to go bail my dad out of jail, can I have a raincheck”.

September 13, 2009.

Jack, Sr. had a hangover. He walked into the kitchen seeking a pain reliever. He did remember his visit to jail and knew he had to deal with that. The doorbell rang and sounded like a shotgun blast to Jack’s splitting head. He ambled to the door and saw junior waiving a bag with presumably some sort of food in it. “Hi, dad, figured you’d need a little food, I brought enough for you and Swedish blonde.” Jack, Sr. looked into the bag and saw several egg and bacon sandwiches, hash browns, juice and a large coffee. “Thanks, son and thanks for bailing me out last night.”

“Dad, we’re going to have to hire someone to drive you around. You could’ve killed someone last night, yourself included, and you can’t drive for a year”, Junior added. “I’m going to fight the suspension”, Senior responded. “Unless you get the Governor, to pull some strings, that isn’t going to happen and probably not soon”, Junior answered. “So, I figure I’ll get one of the clean-up boys at the dealership to be your driver. We’ll fix you up with a nice black sedan with tinted windows, and a privacy window between the seats, and let you look like a Governor or something.” Junior said, ever the salesman. “Okay, and get Jeb to call me, I’m going to need a lawyer for this DUI thing.”

A Little Conversation

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May 1, 2009.

“Dad, I think you need to spend a little time with your lawyer, Jeb about your estate plan. Luckily, our dealerships are surviving this recession, nicely and that new Cash for Clunkers program will stimulate things further. He says that unless you happen to die next year, it will be impossible for me to keep the business open after you die because of all the death taxes that I’ll have to pay. That scare in March with the ski accident ought to be a warning to both of us that things can happen. Will you please schedule a meeting with Jeb? asked Junior.

“Son, that crash in March didn’t kill me did it? I may not be invincible, but I definitely am lucky. But I’ll meet with Jeb sometime soon. Did you see that new Iron Man commercial we just shot. I can’t believe that the movie company let me use that car for the commercial. I’m going to go to Biloxi for a few weeks to recuperate, then back here for a week and then going to Maine for a month or so. But come fall, we’ll definitely get on that tax stuff.”

September 12, 2009.

“Son what a summer, this is Bridget, I met her up in Newport this summer. And its still bikini weather down here. She’s from Sweden. I’m going to have to put up some screens around the pool at the house so that she can continue to get that all over tan. Boy the Tide sure beat the stuffin’s out of the Hokies last weekend. This is the year”.

Junior winced. His father was still reliving his childhood and clearly was not growing up. Except now, he had a gold card without a spending limit. “Dad after you get Bridget settled in, we need to have a meeting with Jeb. I’ll schedule it for maybe next week?” “Son, you’re a one track thinker and I appreciate that, but trust me, you gotta have some fun, too. Now after the Bama game tonight let’s see if we can get you in some trouble.”

The Prognosis and the Diagnosis

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The doctor called Junior. “He’s one tough SOB, I think he’s going to make it, but the key is whether he gets an infection from the bowel leak.” “Thanks, do I need to come out there?” “Well its going to be touch and go for a few days, it wouldn’t hurt”, said the doctor.

The phone rang again, “Hello is this Jack, Jr.? This is Deputy Marinara of the Park City Sheriff’s office.”

“How can I help you deputy?” asked Jack, Jr. “We’re a bit concerned that Jack’s ski bindings failed, any thoughts on that?” the deputy asked? “Well Dad might have tried to make them too tight for the race today and perhaps sprung something, or he got too drunk last night and didn’t check them this morning because he was hung over, or blind from taking too much ED medicine.”

“You’re probably right and your father doesn’t remember anything, and the only finger prints on the bindings are your fathers”, the Sheriff replied. “Sheriff, do you think that I would have tried to kill my father?” asked Junior. “No such thing, the resort is always afraid of lawsuits and sometimes people rig up their own stuff to get hurt and get some settlement,” the Sheriff answered. “No problem of that, Dad has more money than God, I think and he’s trying to spend it all before he dies. He may have a death wish since Mom died, I don’t know, but he’s certainly got joi de vive these days and lawyers, hospitals and death would cramp his style right now I think.” The Sheriff paused for a second and then answered, “Okay, then, I’ll just chalk it up to some dumb old coot who still thinks he’s 25.” “That about sums it up”, answered Junior.

Later that evening, Junior visited his father in the hospital. “Dad, I told you to be careful.”

“Son, I’ve never had a binding fail, ever, if I didn’t know better, I’d bet they were tampered with.” “Dad, I understand your pride was hurt, you’ve never crashed before, but your BAC was .055, that’s impaired for driving and drunk for racing. I’ll bet you had a handful of ED meds last night so you could please the babe of the week and you’re not 25 anymore. Promise me you’ll be more careful, I want to keep you around for awhile”, Junior replied.

After finishing his meeting with his father, Junior talked to the Doctor, “what’s his prognosis doctor”. “He’ll be fine, he’ll just have to rest for a couple of weeks and then have some physical therapy”, answered the doctor. “Good thing he was a little looped, most people would have tensed up before impact, he was so loose, that it probably saved his life”, the doctor continued. “That’s my Dad, he always lands soft”. As he walked away, Junior thought, “if only he would land hard enough to die.”