Lucky Thumbs

Look, I’m not saying getting my thumbnails “done” during halftime Friday night’s game helped the Bishop Broncos beat the Frazier Mountain Falcons, I’m just saying it couldn’t have hurt. Just sayin’, as the kids say. And I’d also say “Say Say Say” is just a so-so song.

Bishop led Frazier Mountain 18-0, but after the 19-3 lead turned into a 41-35 overtime loss the week before against Kern Valley, Bronco fans weren’t about to think this game was already in the bag (like some fans who were listening at home).

We’re atop the press the box at John Schwab Field. The smell of Bronco Burgers fills the air; it’s another fun night of high-school football.

I’ve tried to make it clear over the years that this is a “working” press box, not a playground for kids; even my groupies are not welcome.

But climbing the ladder are two Bishop Union High students, all-American girls. I welcome them, giddy with the prospect of a Bronco victory and a spot in the playoffs (more on that in another post).

“Lucky thumbs?” asks one of the girls.

Now, if you’ve heard the radio show, you know I’m not too bright. “Lucky thumbs?” I reply dumbly.

Next thing you know, I’ve got “Lucky Thumbs!” Dana and Katie couldn’t have been nicer. They paint my thumbs, I now know the Broncos will win and all seems right with the world.

Bishop does beat Frazier Mountain 38-13, the Broncos will likely advance to the CIF-Southern Section playoffs, and, shoot, the playoffs are fun.

Maggie Egan is fun. And funny. The wife of Bronco head varsity coach Bill Egan is smart and tough and as about as cool and honest person as I’ll ever meet. She spots me after the game. “Bob Todd! Lucky thumbs!”

Damn right.

Hey, this is not the first time I’ve gotten my nails done. One memorable if drunken night long ago I let a girlfriend paint my toenails (you can probably figure out the rest of the night – that’s right, I’m sure I passed out, but who can remember?).

So I arrive at work the next day in my usual summer attire: Collared golf shirt, shorts and flip-flops. Ah, flip-flops. Rookie mistake. Looks like the sportswriter had his toenails polished last night. Guffaws all around. My girlfriend worked in the classified department. She appeared to come off as a hero while I was scorned/pitied by my newsroom brethren.

I wore shoes the next day.

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