The Prince and the Pauper

Of course Vag could have sold the extra ticket, but he never quite had the nerve to post a notice on the bulletin board. The defeat of it all overwhelmed him--to have to admit to some eager sophomore that he hadn't gotten a date for the game. So Saturday approached and arrived and Vag set off for the game with a pair of fake binoculars filled with bourbon to fill the void left by a date.

Vag drifted down Boylston Street as couples passed him, striding onward to the stadium so as not to miss the kickoff. His stares were mostly answered with could looks, but one girl, who was in his Slavic section, smiled gaily as she passed by with her date.

"Got an extra ticket, mistah?" The urchins were flanking him, demanding his attention, scowling at him. "Got an extra ticket?" He stopped in the middle of Larz Anderson Bridge and carefully poured one eye-socket of bourbon.

Pity Seizes Vag

Well, he did have an extra ticket. He considered making a small paper airplane out of it and sailing it into the Charles. But what the hell--why not let a townie go to the game? A warm flush of pity momentarily overwhelmed him as he thought of the deed, but it was replaced by a keener flush of something he chose to call maganimity--the feeling that one never stands as straight as when one stoops to help a child.

With bold stride he advanced toward the first pipe he heard and thrust the ticket into an outstretched hand. He started to walk away but, reflecting that the ticket placed the object of his magnamimity next to him, slowed up and said, "Come on, we'll miss the kickoff," in a gruff masculine voice. Together, Vag and the urchin passed through the turnstile and out onto Soldiers Field.

Vag didn't catch the last name when they introduced each other, but the boy's name was Sebbie--Sebastian, he guessed Having discharged the introductions, Vag became silent and Sebbie reflective.

"What's the matter? D'j'lose your date for the game or something?" asked Sebbie, as they passed under the stadium arches.

Vag Changes Subject

"Yeh," said Vag. He put his hands in his pockets, hunched his shoulders, and changed the subject. "I'll bet you don't get to see a real football game very often, do you, Sebbie?"

Sebbie shrugged. "Eh, Sometimes I sneak into a B.C. game, if it's not too important. It's pretty hard to get in around here. You're the first guy to give me a ticket this year. The last guy I went with was really a jerk. I bet no girl would go to a football game with him. You're o.k. though."

Vag met the compliment in silence. As he walked down the steps to his seat with Sebbie, it seemed as if everyone he knew was sitting around him. For a moment he considered treating Sebbie as if he were a disagreeable ticket-taker who was taking advantage of him. Friends at the club, a fellow who had roomed down the hall freshman year, a ex-girl friend--their voices and waving arms pursued him like Furies as he fought his way to a seat beside Sebbie, who had wasted no time in finding Row L., Seat 19.

"Jeez, I thought you'd never get here," said Sebbie as Vag slipped by the last girl's knees and sat down. The crowd rose to its feet just after Vag was seated. It had been a forty-yard pass play and Vag was screaming himself hoarse. He looked to his left at Sebbie, who was placidly sitting on his left.

"God wasn't that something!" said Vag, then, reflecting that he ought to give the lad an introduction into the finer points of football, added, "Did you see the way he had the secondary completely fooled--no interference within ten yards of him."

"They're asleep in the backfield anyway. And the quarterback was almost nailed from behind before he could get it away."

All of Vag's efforts as a teacher were met either with scorn or indifference. When the team was playing well, Sebbie regarded it as a minimum accomplishment--a shaky assurance that he, or rather Vag, was getting his money's worth. But when they fell behind, Sebbie lapsed into a stupor which added to Vag's depression. For consolation, Vag turned to his fake binoculars.

"What's that?" Sebbie asked as Vag poured into the eye socket.

"Bourbon," said Vag.

"I bet you think I'm not old enough to drink bourbon," said Sebbie.

"That's quite correct," answered Vag.

"You're wrong," Sebbie stated flatly. Vag let the matter rest there.

Sebbie Disappears

Suddenly it was halftime and, although the team was behind, there were still the bands to be reckoned with. Sebbie, however, disappeared like a shot and Vag now had a chance to look around. He was in the middle of the date section and, as he looked at the monotonous lines of smiling faces he moodily reflected on the custom of bringing girls to football games. He was not alone in these reflections, however, for when Sebbie returned, his upper lip painted in the moustache left by an orange drink, some of the girlish smiles above him turned to frowns and giggles. There dawned the uneasy suspicion in Vag that he was being marked as a pervert.

The second half had not started yet and Sebbie shifted uneasily in his seat while Vag poured some more bourbon.

"Gee, you know," said Sebbie, tugging at Vag's sleeve. "If I had the money I'd buy me a hot dog now." Vag sneered and steeled himself against the good-humored salesmanship of a nearby vendor. He now felt not only perverted but cheap, and when a peanut salesman came by, Vag eagerly bought a small bag to share with with Sebbie. Bits of shells were blown all over Vag's flannels, but the peace of mind was worth it.

With the third period, things didn't improve much. The team fell behind by one more touchdown and Sebbie became sullen and withdrawn.

"Well," said Vag with inspiration, rising and stretching his arms, I don't know about you, but I've had enough of this game. Coming?"

"What did you buy a ticket for if you don't stay the whole game?" Sebbie spit back. "So long."

There was nothing to do now but walk home, and Vag did this, whistling. It may have been due to a partiality for Rodgers & Hammerstein, but the tune was "There is Nothing Like a Dame" all the way.