Mr. Diamonte drove 170 miles before he remembered that the shirt was tucked under his seat. At the next red light, he reached and pulled it out.

Wow. What memories. He was a good player, fast on his feet. He even played quarterback one game when their star broke a rib.

He saw himself running down the field, heard the roaring cheers of the crowd and the beep-beep of the angry horn of the car behind him. He looked up at the green light, smiled and waved victoriously at the driver for he could afford to be gracious.

He was, after all, a star quarterback.