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"Sounds like everybody else in town is down there already," Ernie commented.
"Yeah," I agreed. Even from here the soft roar of a crowd was easy to hear. "Better hope Je
"Well, I guess I'll be seeing you, Coach," Ernie said after an awkward silence.
"Look, think it over, will you?" I urged. "I don't want you to think you have to cut out of the team completely just because of me."
"It's okay, I'll—"
He broke off suddenly, gripping my arm tightly, his eyes wide as he stared down the hill. I turned to look.
The car with the fancy mirrors was rolling down the hill. Already it was picking up speed.
Maybe Ernie saw the kid in the car. Maybe he heard the crowd beneath the cliff, or maybe he was thinking of Je
And not only all the speed. He was 'porting, too, all but invisible gaining himself an extra foot of distance every two seconds. Not much, but every bit was worth something.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the car's owners come out of the butcher shop. Her scream and his curse as they saw what was happening finally got my feet moving, and the three of us took off down the hill. I don't know what they were thinking, but I knew we didn't have a hope in hell of catching that car. What I did know was that I was suddenly terrified for Ernie.
Another few seconds, and Ernie had reached the car. He didn't waste time trying to open the door, but instead put one hand on the edge of the roof and the other hand on the mirror and vaulted onto the mirror's support posts. Twisting into a crazy sort of fetal position with his legs hooked around the mirror posts, he reached through the open window and grabbed the wheel.
I wanted to swear, but I needed all my breath for ru
The car was well into the curve now, but Ernie almost had the wheels turned enough. For a second I thought he was going to make it. Then the car slammed into the guardrail.
The woman ru
I didn't even glance into the car to see if the kid was all right, but headed straight to Ernie. He looked up at me out of a face dripping with sweat and smiled weakly. Then he fainted.
—
The hospital couldn't find anything except bruises on Ernie, but he was so exhausted they insisted on keeping him there overnight. I got in to see him about ten minutes after visiting hours started that evening. Je
"Coach Morrissey!" he said when he saw me at the door. "C'mon in."
"How are you doing?" I asked, pulling a chair to the foot of his bed.
"Great. A little tired is all."
"I can imagine," I said, thinking of all the 'porting he had done. "I guess everybody in town knows what you did today, Ernie. You're a real hero."
"Yeah," he said slowly. "You know, Coach, this isn't really how I expected it to be."
"Oh?" I thought I understood.
"No. I guess I always thought it would be the greatest thing in the world to have everybody telling me what a great guy I was. It's fu
"It's like I told you a long time ago: what matters isn't the name but the guy who wears it. When you start feeling good about yourself, it doesn't matter a whole lot what anybody else thinks about you. Well, most anybody, I mean," I added, smiling at Je
"Yeah." Ernie was silent for a moment. "Coach, will you be mad if I drop out of the boxing team? I know you were hoping I'd fight in the Golden Gloves tourney, but—well, I'd like to spend more time on my schoolwork. And besides, Je
"If it's what you really want, Ernie, go ahead. I hope you'll come in and say hello when you can, though."
He gri
"Good. Well, I guess I'll leave you two alone." I headed toward the door, but then turned back. "Oh, by the way, I talked to Chief Dobbs earlier. He told me that car hit the guardrail pretty hard those three times. Says it was a miracle you didn't go through it and over the cliff."
Je
"Sure do," I said, and in my mind's eye I could see Ernie clinging to that car, "porting it an inch at a time, six inches a second, backing it away from that edge. And I looked into Ernie's face and saw the peace and self-respect that was finally there. Ernie Lambert was a real somebody, and for the first time in his life he knew it. "Sure do," I repeated.
—
I still hear from Ernie a couple of times a year. He and Je
As for me, I'm keeping my eyes open. Somewhere in this world there has to be someone else who can 'port like Ernie, and the guy just might be big enough and mean enough to become a real heavyweight pro.
I can always hope, anyway.