'On the first play from scrimmage, Oregon's star running back ran sixty-five yards and Oregon was only down by thirteen. Michigan missed a field goal with seven minutes left on the clock. Two plays later, the same running back sliced through Michigan's line again for forty-eight yards and cut Michigan's lead to six. The teams traded field goals. When Oregon took over for its final series on its own ten, there were only forty-three seconds left on the clock.
'Oregon's quarterback had a good arm. Everyone expected him to fling a pass toward the end zone and pray for a miracle. Instead, he handed off to his back one more time. Ninety yards later, Oregon was the national champion. That year no one questioned who deserved the Heisman Trophy as the nation's best college football player.
'Now most young men who win the Heisman make millions by turning pro, but this young man was cut from a different cloth. He went to law school. As we all know, many young law-school graduates sign on with firms like mine, but this young man showed his character.' Barbera paused while the audience laughed. 'He turned his back on riches once again and opted instead for a job with the district attorney's office here in Portland, where he has dedicated his life to public service ever since.
'When I learned that this year's convention was going to be in Oregon I knew immediately who I wanted as our keynote speaker. He is one of the greatest college football players who ever lived, he is a great prosecutor, but most important, he is a man of great integrity and an example to us all.
'So, it is with great pleasure that I introduce our keynote speaker, Tim Kerrigan!'
Tim had lost track of the times he'd delivered 'The Speech.' He'd made it before youth groups and Rotary Clubs, at sports camps and churches. Appearance fees for 'The Speech' had paid his law-school tuition and the down payment on his first house. Every time he gave 'The Speech' it was greeted with enthusiastic applause. Afterward people wanted to shake his hand just so they could say they had touched him. Sometimes people told him that he had changed their lives. And Tim stood there and smiled and nodded, as a knife turned in the pit of his stomach.
Kerrigan had tried to beg off when Jack Stamm told him about Silvio Barbera's call. Stamm had misinterpreted his reluctance as modesty. He'd emphasized the honor of having a Multnomah County prosecutor as the convention's keynote speaker. Kerrigan gave in. If it wasn't for the scotch he'd consumed before going to the banquet and the other drinks he'd put down during dinner, he wasn't certain he would have been able to go through with it again.
As usual, when the speech was over, a crowd formed around Kerrigan. He put on his best smile and listened with feigned enthusiasm to everyone who spoke to him. When most of the well-wishers had cleared the ballroom, Tim spotted Hugh Curtin lounging alone at a table near the dais. Their eyes met and Hugh raised a glass in a mock toast.
It didn't take a genius to figure out why the former All-American lineman had been nicknamed 'Huge.' After four years of opening gaping holes for Kerrigan, Curtin had gone on to play pro ball for the Giants. A knee injury had ended his career after three seasons but 'Huge,' who had always seen pro ball as a quick path to financial security, had started law school while playing in the NFL. He had just made partner at Reed, Briggs, Stephens, Stottlemeyer and Compton, Portland's biggest law firm.
As soon as the last well-wisher left, the smile drained from Tim's face and he slumped onto a chair next to Curtin, who had a tall glass of scotch waiting for him. Hugh raised his glass.
'To The Flash!' he said, using the nickname a publicist had dreamed up during Kerrigan's Heisman campaign. Kerrigan gave him the finger and downed most of his drink.
'I hate that name and I hate giving that fucking speech.'
'People eat it up. It makes them feel good.'
'A one-legged man could have run ninety yards with the holes you guys made for me. That was probably the best offensive line in college history. How many of you made it big in the pros?'
'You were good, Tim. You'd have found out how good if you'd turned pro.'
'Bullshit. I'd never have made it. I was too slow and I didn't have the moves. I'd just have embarrassed myself.'
It was the excuse he always gave for not turning pro. He'd given it so many times that he'd actually come to believe it.
Curtin rolled his eyes. 'We have this same discussion every time you get maudlin. Let's talk about something else.'
'You're right. I shouldn't cry on your shoulder.'
'Damn straight. You're not pretty enough.'
'I'd be the best-looking piece you ever had,' Kerrigan retorted. Hugh threw his head back and laughed, and Kerrigan couldn't help smiling. Hugh was his best friend. He was a safe haven. Whenever he got down on himself, Hugh would trick him back through time to college and the parties and the beers with the team. Hugh could make him forget about the guilt that weighed him down like a two-ton anchor.
'You want to head over to the Hardball and tip a few brewskis?' Curtin asked.
'I can't do it. I promised Cindy I'd come home as soon as this fiasco was over,' Kerrigan lied.
'Suit yourself. I have to be in court in the morning anyway.'
'But we'll do it soon, Huge,' Kerrigan said, slurring his words slightly. 'We'll do it soon.'
Curtin studied his friend carefully. 'You okay to drive?'
'No problem. The old Flash isn't gonna get tagged for DUII.'
'You're sure?'
Kerrigan got teary-eyed. He leaned over drunkenly and hugged his friend.
'You always look out for me, Huge.'
