Word Count: 364
“Score!” he shouted, nearly knocking over my soda. He took football a lot more seriously than I did but I did enjoy a good college game from the stands.
They got the field goal and Ted looked up at the scoreboard. He sat down and looked back up at it again.
“It’s not even lit,” he grumbled. “That’s stupid.” Then the scoreboard lit up with “TOUCHDOWN!” and he stared at it, missing the next play of the game.
“What’s going on?” he said. Why don’t they have it updated?”
“They won’t,” I replied. He gave me a weird sort of frown coupled with an ‘are you crazy?’ look and I realized he didn’t know about the change in the game.
“They don’t score anymore,” I told him. “It doesn’t matter who wins.”
This time he said it. “Are you nuts? What do you mean they don’t score?”
“Well they didn’t think there should be any losers. it’s bad for player morale.”
“No losers?”
“Nope. Nor any winners. Something new they’ve decided to make it more fair playing the game.”
“Lookit that guy,” he pulled on my arm. “He’s not even trying to get away with the ball. Moron. You’d think they let anybody play.”
“Well yeah, they do. Whoever wants to, can. There are no academic requirements any more.”
“No requirements?”
“Because there are no grades.”
The game ended. Everybody stood up and cheered as both teams came out on the field. Coaches, players, cheerleaders, referees. Even the water boys. Someone came out, stood in front with a microphone, looked around to make sure everyone was ready.
“Most valuable player,” I told Ted before he could ask. Then we clapped as each body out there got a plaque and a handshake.
Ted vented all the way down the stands, out through the parking lot, till we came to his car.
“Shit, someone backed into me! Son of a bitch,” he screamed. “Bastard didn’t even leave a note,” he moaned, “goddamn it.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, trying to calm him. “It doesn’t matter who did it.”
He looked at me as if he wanted to kill someone. “No-fault?” he asked.
I nodded and grinned.
