I took off the headphones.
"The set was on in my office," he said.
I nodded and started to put the headphones back on, but Billy waved me off and just turned the volume up loud enough to be heard over the machines.
Some fat guy started to bitch from the rowing machine and Billy turned and gave him a look and said, "Shut up or check out."
"...one of the most popular owners in the National Football League and certainly one of the most colorful," the boy anchor was saying.
Now he looked straight into the camera, trying to play two parts all at once: Frank and Earnest.
"The one thing he never did across a long career during which he became one of the most beloved figures in the game was win a Super Bowl. This was supposed to be his year. Now it ends two weeks before the Hawks play their first regular-season game."
He paused here for the big finish.
Bring it home.
"Big Tim Molloy," the boy anchor said. "Dead at the age of seventy-seven, survived by his second wife Kitty and the Molloy twins, Ken and Babs, who were with their father in his luxury box when he suddenly collapsed, and a third child..."
"Me," I said out loud. "Jack Molloy as the Beaver."
Reprinted from Bump & Run by Mike Lupica by permission of G.P. Putnam's Sons, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc. Copyright (c) 2000 by Mike Lupica. All rights reserved. This excerpt, or any parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Blood at the Root
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