Chapter 19: The Race

On a dry June afternoon, the two brothers, both in their high school sweats, stood side by side facing a flat and empty field ahead of them. The field itself, burnt in places from the latest drought, stretched on for about an acre or so and ended at a natural boundary of tall oaks rising up like an ivy-covered wall. A crowd of onlookers had already gathered in a semi-circle behind them, as throughout the week most of the townsfolk had been placing bets on which brother would outdo the other. The race between them was the talk of their small, peculiar town and had been dubbed by many as the town’s most anticipated event, even surpassing the extreme fighting tour that had rolled in a couple of years ago. It was no wonder, then, that as even more obsolete cars streamed into the small parking lot at the foot of the field, the crowd gathering behind them had multiplied and swelled with anticipation (and also a bit of abandon) until there was no longer any room for the two brothers to move. The two of them stared down a long strip of yellow grass that ended at the dark wall of forest beyond. The townsfolk filled in the empty spaces on either side of them, some clapping, and some jeering.

The Mayor of the town even showed. He was a round, heavy-set man with ruddy pink cheeks and a bulbous nose that would have resembled a clown’s had he worn the right costume. His teeth were tobacco-stained, and his smile, eclipsed by the expansive shadow of the forest, looked more like a jaded grin than a wholesome attempt at placating the unruliness surrounding the two brothers. Members of the town council and the business development committee, having just adjourned their weekly meeting at Town Hall, were also in attendance. They were like trolls against the big-bellied outline of the mayor and wore stern business suits to match their stern faces. It wasn’t even an election year.

Soon the brothers’ parents, sporting dark blue overalls and trucker’s caps, were rushed through the thick of the townsfolk until they too stood near their children on the starting line. They couldn’t have been prouder, as they had raised their two sons right and worked particularly hard at making sure they ate three square meals a day and spanking them, no less, when they didn’t behave. They taught their children that hard work and duty to one’s family and community preceded the bountiful gifts of food, water, and shelter, and that the two of them should honor such a bounty by doing well and excelling in all aspects of their lives, which the brothers certainly took to heart.

A couple of photographers from the town’s weekly newspaper, just released from their encampment at a downtown saloon, captured the moment by taking pictures of the proud parents smiling and holding their thumbs’ up in the background as the brothers stared at the foreboding wall of tall oak trees and judged the distance they would have to travel.

The principal of the local high school brought his family, and a few of the teachers in chalk-dusted tweed jackets brought along their rambunctious students, and it seemed that nothing would stop this race from being the most memorable event in the town’s history. Some of the locals from the nearby slaughterhouses even made large banners that were painted red with the brothers’ names on them, and the Girl Scout troupe set up tables around the edges and sold blood-red steak, cold coffee, and lukewarm beer in Styrofoam cups to a crowd that gladly doled out their pocket change for a taste of the good life. The din had grown so complete that the two brothers were pulled out of their deep concentration of the acre or so they had to run and actually had the nerve to look at each other for a moment or two before the Mayor, having pressed enough palms to exhaust his guttural laughter, quieted everyone down by whistling through his tobacco-stained teeth and waving his pudgy arms.

“Welcome, welcome one and all!” said the Mayor, settling the crowd, “and before we begin, I’d just like to thank these two wonderful brothers for thrilling us with their competitive spirit. We’ve all been waiting a long time for this, and by God, I should say that this is the largest turnout we’ve ever had!”

The townsfolk applauded, and even the small toddlers on top of their parents’ shoulders shrieked with glee.

“Never before in this town’s history has a competition meant so much. It shows us that our town is certainly one of the best places to live in this great land and that no matter what, our town means business, and we will compete with anyone, anywhere, anytime for our way of life, because the battle lines have been drawn, my friends. Make no mistake about it that there are some people out there who just don’t appreciate the way we do things around here, and those who don’t just aren’t welcome here, no sir. These two brothers are the finest specimens this town has ever produced, and if you don’t like ‘em, well, you can just get the hell out then!”

Again the crowd cheered. A few even poured beer over themselves, and the children again shrieked and screamed with delight.

The two brothers looked each other over carefully after the mayor had finished with his introduction. They were indeed the best specimens the town had ever produced. Ever since high school, they had always competed for what they considered to be rightfully theirs.

Take sports, for example. In their ninth grade year, both of them tried out for the quarterback’s slot on the Junior Varsity team. They ran three miles every day after practice on the rocky terrain that led from the foot of their farm out on Route 6 to the edge of Elks Pond and then back again, only they did so separately and without discussing it afterwards at the dinner table, where they ate in silence with their parents after the sun ducked below the cornstalks. In the basement of their farmhouse they lifted weights into the deep reaches of the night, and soon their chests barreled and their biceps bulged as hard as the land they plowed every morning before school. And yet they hardly spoke a word to each other, and the group of friends that followed them around the small high school were suddenly separated into two camps, each rooting for a different brother, until the entire school seemed divided between the two.

The head coach at the time tried to stop them from taking football so seriously, but by then it was too late. Both brothers had poked the same competitive vein for three straight months. The coach, however, gave the position to another player, if only to spite the town and the family that had encouraged such fierce competition between the two brothers. It was no surprise, then, that soon after the season was over, the townsfolk fired the coach whom they saw as a threat to the way of life the mayor had alluded to in his speech. “A communist,” they labeled the coach and simply ran him and his commie wife out of town one afternoon after he sat down and lectured the two boys on sportsmanship on the gridiron.

The very next season began with a similar competition for starting pitcher of the baseball team, and luckily there was enough room for two starters on the mound that year and not just one. Seats in the town’s small stadium, at one time noticeably vacant, were suddenly filled, and a ballpark whose wooden infrastructure had been pockmarked and crumbling from decay and age now had a new scoreboard and a couple of new dugouts to separate the players from the rest of their unruly fans. The townsfolk came to the park in record numbers to see the two brothers throw fastballs and curveballs until their arms turned to jelly. They both blew out their arms on the last game of the season, against their arch-rivals from the next town over.