Page 1 of The Tiger in the Sack

PROLOGUE

THE BRICK HOUSE with host Brick Freeman Season Premiere — Opening Segment

“Welcome back to The Brick House, I’m your host Brick Freeman.

Before we get to training camp, I’ve got some interesting news out of Cincinnati for you.

The Tigers’ Jack Jackson, owner, president, general manager, is stepping down, effective immediately. The official statement today says health reasons, and I believe that, because I have met Melinda Jackson, and she has been trying to retire that man for a solid decade. Forty years is a long time. He took over from his father, Jack Sr., built that franchise up from nothing, and he has earned his rest.

Now. Before you start speculating, and I know you, you’re already speculating, let me cut right to it.

He did not give the empty seat to Montgomery Whyte, the Tigers’ VP of Football Operations. We all know Monty’s been calling the shots on every personnel decision that organization has made for going on twenty years. The entire league assumed he had the job the moment Jackson’s retirement rumors started circulating.

Nope He’s not the guy. In fact there is no guy.

Jack named his eldest daughter as heir to the Tigers’ throne.

Gabrielle Jackson is the new president and general manager of the Cincinnati Tigers.

I know what some of you are about to say. I’m going to ask you not to say it.

Gabrielle Jackson has not spent her career decorating the owner’s box on Sundays. She knows the operations of that franchise from the inside out. The business side, the football side, the side that doesn’t show up in a press release.

She has been in that building doing the actual work since before half the current roster was old enough to drive. Although she had her younger sister, Tiki, still has a say in the business. The women will each hold forty-five percent of the team. Their father is retaining ten percent for himself in case of a tie-breaking emergency.

The Tigers have needed a shake-up for years. Lord knows they have. And Jack Jackson apparently agreed, because the one person in that organization with both the vision and the backbone to actually deliver one is now the one running it.

Gabi, you have been ready for this your whole life. Good luck.

Monty will continue in his role as VP of backing up the Jackson-in-charge. I, for one, am looking forward to seeing what this new dynamic duo has to offer.

We’ll be right back.”

THIS IS THE WAY

ISAK

There’s freedom behind a motorcycle helmet.

Nobody knows who you are.

No name. No jersey number. No six older brothers who’d been famous longer than I could legally drive, and no sportswriters staked out with camera phones and opinions about whether I was going to have a third year of losing more games than we won, and no one stopping me on the sidewalk to ask if I was actually related to the Chris Kingman.

I was just a guy on a bike.

The only one who got to have opinions about this zen and the art of motorcycle philosophy was Vito. Vito Catleone.

Specifically, he had opinions about the fact that I’d gone the long way home because I needed the extra twenty minutes to strategize how to take Fox down in our Schmadden live stream later. Vito expressed these opinions through a highly specialized system of sharp flicks of his tail, since he couldn’t meow at me through his kitty-cat helmet. I had become fluent in tail communication over years of shared rides.

His low back and forth tail flicks right now meant he was more than ready to go home and eat.

“We’re almost home to your after ride treats.”

He shifted position on his padded seat, designed especially for the transportation of one twelve-and-a-half-pound cat, fitted in front of me on the bike. And yes, I’d had it custom made, and no, I was not going to apologize for that.

Something on my left attracted his attention. Pigeon, probably. He felt strongly about pigeons and their shenanigans.

The light at Vine turned red. I stopped, adjusted his jacket strap, his second-best one, the black leather, very tasteful, and he accepted this with the patience of a cat who’s human bought him new outfits every other week or so.