Casual
Caldwell, Christopher
Casual BACK TO THE FUTURE A few weeks ago, as I left the house I grew up in, my stepmother remembered, as she always does, that she had "some of my things." These "things" are the treasures of my...
...One night in 1970, my father and I were discussing football in the kitchen...
...He had a family...
...By the time my father came in to kiss me goodnight it was clear I had a larger task in front of me than I had thought...
...He probably would have said more had I not begun sobbing inconsolably...
...This was the first indication I'd ever had that my father was a man of such importance...
...Kelly . . . "Or is it Dr...
...He was, literally, nothing to me...
...The implications weren't lost on me...
...Jack travels with the Cleveland Browns...
...And the night after...
...Kelly was the Browns' star running back...
...We came up with a compromise...
...I was trembling with joy...
...I'm sure," said my dad...
...Now, listen," my father said...
...I had no more to say...
...He signs a hundred of those things a day...
...He knows all those guys...
...I could have talked about that in the letter...
...Goes to all their games...
...Has he ever met Leroy Kelly...
...I was lying on my bed with a pencil and a pad of lined paper within seconds...
...It's my thank-you note...
...I waited for his compliments...
...I could picture them laughing together...
...I didn't know what he did for a living...
...He knew a guy who knew Leroy Kelly...
...Stays in the team hotel, watches their practices, that kind of thing...
...I took the finished product out to show my Dad a couple nights later...
...Besides, I didn't know Jack Mattock the way I knew Leroy Kelly—I hadn't seen him run, or heard him speak...
...Mattock later...
...I kept the autographed picture on my desk for a few more days...
...Dear Mr...
...He'd mail the note to Kelly the following morning, and I'd write one to Mr...
...I'll get right on it...
...I couldn't even picture him...
...he said...
...But I couldn't lie, either...
...But I couldn't write the note...
...Open this," he said...
...When my father saw this in my face, it threw him into a fury...
...Would that be indelicate...
...I meant a thank-you note to Jack Mattock...
...Don't bother," my dad said...
...It didn't dawn on me what I was looking at until I had the black-and-white photo all the way out and saw Leroy Kelly charging into the camera with the ball tucked under his arm...
...What would happen to his children...
...These "things" are the treasures of my youth—my first baseball glove, letters from friends now dead, my college diploma—which are fighting a losing battle for attic space against various fruit bowls and beer coolers...
...One evening months later, my father came glumly in the front door and asked, "You ever write that thank-you note to Jack Mattock...
...Or insincere...
...Instead he said: "What's this...
...But it was now the source of such burning shame that, one night before bed, I slipped it into the gutter of my NFL Encyclopedia, where it would remain, unseen and forgotten, until it fell out onto my kitchen table in Washington three decades later...
...Drafted and redrafted, it was a two-page-long masterpiece of second-grade wit, openheartedness, good manners, and perfect penmanship...
...I had to tell him my team was the Patriots, not the Browns...
...It's Jack who got this thing...
...CHRISTOPHER CALDWELL...
...He liked the Browns...
...In my father's stricken face, I saw Jack clearly for the first time...
...And then the inscription: To my friend Chris—Leroy...
...Pretty soon my dad was reminding me only once a week or so, but the unwritten note poisoned my joys...
...Jesus...
...I'd been depleted by the effort of the first one...
...Have you no manners...
...My father reminded me the following night...
...He told me about his friend Jack Mattock...
...For what it's worth, thank you, Jack...
...He had a heart attack this afternoon...
...Should I promise to sort of root for the Browns...
...So my father said, oh heck, Leroy Kelly probably knew who I was...
...I wondered...
...I was shocked...
...Dear Leroy...
...He died...
...Leroy Kelly doesn't know who the hell you are...
...I decided to mention some of the carries I'd seen him make on This Week in Pro Football, just to reassure him I was as ardent a fan as he'd doubtless been told...
...By the next morning, every one of my second-grade classmates knew that I was the son of a guy who knew a guy who knew Leroy Kelly...
...This particular tranche, as I discovered on opening it in my kitchen in Washington, contained thirty-year-old pro football memorabilia and—tumbling out of a dog-eared NFL Encyclopedia—the first autographed picture I ever owned...
...He was my dad's friend...
...Remember to write a thank-you note...
...The thought had never—not for an instant—occurred to me...
...I asked...
...Kelly...
...One night the following week, my dad came in the front door and handed me a manila envelope...
Vol. 8 • September 2002 • No. 3
