grass, trimmed short, like something you might find on a golf course,
instead of the coarser Saint Augustine grass you found on a lot of
lawns back home.
'What a great venue,' Nadine said.
'Yeah.'
The contest didn't start officially until tomorrow, and their event
wasn't until Sunday, but there were twenty or so throwers out on the
green practicing. The warm summer air was full of colorful twirling
'rangs, blues and reds and oranges and greens, bright blurs looping
back and forth.
Tyrone turned to his father.
'Okay?'
His dad looked around, then nodded.
'Looks safe enough. Mom and I will be back in a couple of hours.'
Tyrone nodded back, already thinking about practice.
His dad had rented a car and left the RV parked back at the hotel, a
place called the Greenwood Inn. His parents wanted to go check out
downtown Portland, but they didn't want to leave Tyrone and Nadine
alone until they had checked out the park. Given the numbers of
families with small children, the lack of gang colors, or guys throwing
beer bottles at each other. Dad had decided that Tyrone and Nadine
were probably safe enough here in the middle of the afternoon.
'You have your credit card?'
'Yep.'
'You got your phone?'
'Yes, Dad.'
'It's on?'
Tyrone rolled his gaze toward the heavens. He pulled the little phone
from his belt and held it up so his father could see the display.
'Yes, Dad.'
What, did they think he was still a baby? This was Portland, not
Baltimore. He almost said so, but realized that might not be the
smartest thing, so he kept his mouth shut. He was learning that
sometimes, that was the best strategy. If you don't say it, they can't
nail you for it.
Nadine started unpacking her 'rangs.
'Go already, parental units, we're fine here.'
His mom smiled.
Once they were gone, Tyrone and Nadine looked for a place to get
started. There were circles drawn on the grass, but most of these were
already taken. That didn't matter-they had wash-away chalk; they could
make their own circle.
'Over there,' Nadine said.
'Wind is from the south, but it's almost calm, we'll have plenty of
room for hang.'
'Hey, scope it. Isn't that Jerry Prince?' He pointed.
She looked.
'I think so.'
Best MTA guy in the world, the Internationals winner last year, and the
world record holder. Word was, he threw eight minutes in practice on
