"Football?" I ast him. "You still playin football?"
"Well, what else am I gonna play, you idiot - the trombone? Now, listen here, we gotta have some kind of trick against them Giants on Sunday. And I think you might just be it. It won't take much - just one or two plays, that's all you'll have to practice. You do okay, you might make a career for yourself."
"Well, I dunno, Snake. I mean, I ain't played no football since you thowed that pass out of bounds on fourth down to stop the clock an we lost the championship to them cornshuckers from..."
"Damnit, Gump, don't remind me of that again - it was twenty years ago! Everbody's forgotten about it by now - except apparently you. For God's sake, here you are moppin up a beer joint at two in the morning and you're turning down the opportunity of a lifetime? What are you, some kind of nut?"
I was about to answer yes when Snake interrupted me an begun scribblin on a bar napkin.
"Look, here's the address of the practice field. Be there tomorrow at one sharp. Show them this note, and tell them to bring you to me."
After he left I stuck the napkin in my pocket an went back to cleanin up the place, an that night when I went home I laid up in bed till dawn, thinkin about what Snake had said. Maybe he was right. Anyhow, might not hurt to try. I remembered those times back at the University of Alabama all them years ago, an Coach Bryant an Curtis an Bubba an the guys. An when I did, I got kind of misty-eyed, account of they were some of the best times of my life, when that crowd was roarin an yellin, an we almost always won all our games. Anyhow, I got dressed an gone out an got some breakfast, an by one o'clock I had arrived on my bicycle at the New Orleans Saints's practice field.
"Who you say you are again?" the guard asts when I shown him Snake's napkin. He is lookin me up an down pretty suspiciously.
"Forrest Gump. I used to play ball with Snake."
"Yeah, I'll bet," he says. "That's what they all say."
"I did, though."
"Well, wait a minute, then." He looked at me kind of disgusted like an went off through a door. Few minutes later he comes back, shakin his head.
"All right, Mr. Gump. Follow me." An he takes me back to the locker room.
Now, I have seen some big fellers in my time. I remember them University of Nebraska players, an they was big. But all these fellers, they is not big - they is huge! In case I ain't tole you yet, I am six-six an weigh about two hundrit forty - but these guys - they look about seven feet an three or four hundrit pounds apiece! One feller, dressed kind of official, comes up an says to me, "You lookin for somebody here, old-timer?"
"Yeah," I says. "Snake."
"Well, he ain't here today. Coach made him go to the doctor on account of he sprained his hand hittin some idiot on the head in a bar."
"I know," I says.
"Well, anything else I can do for you?"
"I dunno," I tole him. "Snake says for me to come by here an see if y'all want me to play ball for you."
"Play ball? For us?" He got kind of a funny little squint in his eye.
"Uh huh. See Snake an I was on the same team back at Alabama. He tole me last night to..."
"Wait a minute," the feller says. "Your name ain't Forrest Gump, by any chance, is it?"
"Yup, sure is."
"Yeah, yeah," he says. "I heard about you, Gump. Snake says you run like a bat out of hell."
"Dunno about that anymore. I ain't run in a while."
"Well, I tell you what, Gump, Snake asked me to give you a tryout. Why don't you come in here and let's get you suited up - By the way, my name's Coach Hurley. I coach wide receivers."
He took me back to the uniform room, an they found some clothes an shit for me. Lord it was different from back at the University. All them clothes have changed now. They got twice as many pads an pieces of rubber an stuff, so's when you get all suited up, you look like a Mars-man or somethin, an when you stand up, you feel like you gonna tump over. When I finally get dressed, everbody else is already out on the field doin they exercises an shit. Coach Hurley motion me over to his group, which is runnin pass patterns, an say for me to get in line. I remembered this part from my playin days - just run out about ten yards an turn around an they thow you the ball. When my turn comes, I run out an turn around an the ball hits me square in the face, an it surprised me so much I tripped an fell on the ground. Coach Hurley shake his head, an I ran on back to the end of the line. Four or five times later, I ain't caught a ball yet an all the other guys be kind of avoidin me. Like I needed a bath or somethin.
After a while, Coach begun hollerin an shoutin, an everbody gone on into the scrimmage. They was divided up into two teams an after a few plays, Coach Hurley motion me over to him.
"All right, Gump," he says. "I don't know why I am doin this, but you go on in there at wide receiver and see if you can catch a ball, so Snake, whenever he gets here, is not going to be a laughingstock - or, for that matter, me either."
I run into the huddle an tell them I am there. The quarterback looks at me like I'm nuts, but says "Okay, eight-oh-three corner post - on two - Gump, you hit it straight for about twenty yards, look out once then look back in." An everbody breaks an gets into their position. I don't even know where my position is, so I go on out to where I think it is, an the quarterback, he sees me an motions me in closer. He counts an the ball is snapped, an I run out what I figger is twenty yards, do a little jig, an then look back, an sure enough the ball be headed right for me. Fore I know it, it is there, right in my hands, an I grapped it an begun to run hard as I could. Damn if I ain't gone twenty more yards when two big ole guys slam into me an knock me on the ground.
Then all hell broke loose.
"What in hell was that!" one of the guys shouts.
"Hey - that ain't right. What the hell's he doin!" another one says.
Two or three more come up an begun hollerin an cussin an wavin their arms at Coach Hurley. I got up an run on back to the huddle.
"What's wrong with them guys?" I ast the quarterback.
"Hell, Gump, them guys are so dumb they don't know what to do when they see somethin they ain't seen before. They were expectin you to do what I said - go out twenty, jig, and then corner post. You did half of that - and even that was backwards. It ain't in the playbook. Lucky I spotted you. But that was a nice catch, anyway."
Well, rest of the afternoon I caught five or six more passes, an everbody ceptin the defense was happy. Ole Snake had come back from the doctor by then an was standin on the sidelines, grinnin an jumpin up and down.
"Forrest," he says, when the scrimmage is finally over, "we is going to have us a time next Sunday afternoon against them New York Giants! It is a lucky thing that I went to your strip joint that night!"
But I am wondering if this is so.
Anyhow, I practiced the whole rest of that week, an by Sunday, I was feelin pretty good about mysef. Snake had got his hand out of the splint an was first-string quarterback again an was playin his heart out during the first two quarters, so's when we went into the locker room we was only behind 22 to 0.
"Okay, Gump," Coach Hurley said. "Now we gonna show em somethin. I think we have lulled them New York Giants into a false sense of security now. They gonna be lookin for a easy ride. You will not give it to them." Then he an some other coaches say a bunch of other bullshit an we gone on back out to the stadium.
First play, somebody on our side fumbles the kickoff an we are back on our own one yard line. Just like Coach Hurley say, we have lulled them Giants into a false sense of security. Coach Hurley pat me on the butt an I went into the game. The crowd all of a sudden got sort of quiet, an then a kind of low mumbling begun - I guess because they ain't had time to put my name into the program.
Snake, he look at me with eyes flashin an say, "Okay, Forrest, now's the time. Just do it." He called the play, an I went out toward the sidelines. On the snap, I hauled ass downfield an turn around, an the ball ain't there. Snake is being chased around in the backfield by five or six Giants men, back an forth, back an forth in our own end zone - he must of gained a hundred yards, but it was the wrong way.
"Sorry about that," he says, when we get back into the huddle. He reached down in his britches an pulled out a little plastic flask an took a long slug from it.