[legendsport]

January 1, 1940: Detroit, MI:

"I'm surprised you made it this morning," Jack Barrell told his brother.

Rollie Barrell smirked, but his bleary eyes told the true tale. "I'm tougher than I look," he said.

"Obviously," Jack replied with a wry grin.

He cut into his steak, then cut a piece of egg with his fork and shoveled both into his mouth, while Rollie watched, looking a little green around the gills.

"I don't know how you can eat that stuff this morning," Rollie said.

"Bah," Jack muttered as he chewed. After swallowing he added with a twinkle in his eye, "I too am tougher than I look."

Despite his groaning headache, Rollie laughed. He definitely had imbibed more than was prudent the night before, and was feeling the after effects this morning. He looked down at the fruit plate he'd ordered for breakfast.

"Francine read you the riot act this morning?" Jack asked. Jack and Marie had joined Rollie and Francie for a New Year's bash hosted by Rollie's Detroit Maroons football club. Jack had come directly from the arena where his team had downed the visiting New York Eagles by a 4-1 score. Surprisingly, even the normally taciturn Detroit Dynamos owner Powell Thompson had put in an appearance. Thompson owned the ballpark where Rollie's team played and the arena where Jack's played. He was also a partner in Jack's team and so nominally, one of Jack's bosses. Thankfully, from Jack's standpoint, Thompson stayed out of hockey.

Rollie chuckled and shook his head, thinking about his wife. "She couldn't. She's got her own hangover to deal with," he said. "Marty, on the other hand, did give me a lecture."

Jack laughed as he cut another piece of steak. "Ah yes, teenaged daughters. Now that's something with which I have some experience of my own," he said before adding, "I don't say I understand them because I certainly do not, but I certainly have experience."

The brothers shared a knowing look. Rollie's daughters were 16 and 9. Jack's were 20, 16 and 10 - only 17 days separated Rollie's Martha and Jack's Jean while only six months separated their youngest daughters Alice (Rollie's) and Vera (Jack's).

"How is Agnes handling college?" Rollie asked.

Jack's eldest daughter Agnes was actually the daughter of their late brother Jimmy, but Jack was the only father she'd ever known and no one outside the family even knew he wasn't her father. She was in her second year at Bigsby College in New York. She had chosen it to be near her half-brother James, who lived in Brooklyn with his mother Claudia and adoptive father Powell Slocum when he wasn't playing minor league baseball.

"She's doing very well," Jack said. "She likes being around James. With two younger sisters, finding out she has a brother nearly the same age has been a welcome change for her. She's a smart one too. Must get that from Marie, because you know Jimmy was no genius."

Rollie smiled - Jimmy had been closer to him than to any of the other brothers. "Oh... you know Jimmy was smart enough, what he lacked was common sense."

"Well, it certainly is true that he often leaped before he thought about the consequences," Jack replied, shaking his head as thought about Jimmy's reckless nature.

"That's true. The same could be said of some of the rest of us..." Rollie pointed out.

"You don't mean me, do you?"

"Nah... I mean, don't most fifteen year olds run off to Canada to live with their grandmother so they can play hockey?"

"Hey, that worked out quite well, thank you," Jack pointed out.

"True," Rollie said. He popped a bit of melon into his mouth, forcing himself to swallow it before continuing, "Speaking of which, do you think you can win the Cup again this season?"

Jack nodded. "Yes, we need to stay healthy, but I feel like this team might be better than last year's. Certainly Miles Barfield looks like he's taking the next step." Barfield, a right-winger, was the Detroit Olympians' best player.

"You know, I would never have pegged you as the coaching type. But you've done a great job."

"That a backhanded compliment? I wish I could say that I never saw you as a front-office type, but that'd be a lie," Jack replied and chuckled.

"You were always better with numbers than the rest of us," he added.

Rollie nodded. He and Jack shared a look - they were both thinking of Joe, who had treated school as if it were a communicable disease. They smiled ruefully, each realizing exactly what the other was thinking.

"Can I make a suggestion?" Jack asked.

Rollie's brow furrowed. "A suggestion? Sure."

"Make Dewey Burnett your primary passer."

Rollie sat back, perplexed. His team, the Detroit Maroons, had suffered through a bad 1939 campaign, finishing 5-6 despite having arguably the best pass catcher in history in Stan Vaught. Burnett was a tailback and Vernon Flowers, the incumbent passer, had a very solid track record.

"What makes you say that?" Rollie asked.

"Well... I've seen Burnett throw the ball. He's got better touch than Flowers. And a stronger arm. Vaught is your best weapon, and I think Burnett as the primary passer gets more out of him." Jack shrugged and added, "Just my opinion. Talk to Frank Yurik, see what he thinks." Yurik was the team's coach - and he was pig-headed, but Rollie put up with him because he was also an outstanding football coach.

Rollie thought for a moment. Jack was an ex-player in the AFA and he knew football nearly as well as he did hockey. Rollie himself had always been impressed with Burnett's athletic abilities. He wasn't a scout like their father or brother Dan, but had always felt he had an eye for talent. And he realized that Jack might be right.

He nodded, "You might be right. I'll talk to Yurik when he gets back from California." Yurik always went to Los Angeles at season's end. He claimed it was for "scouting purposes" but Rollie knew better. For one thing, no one was playing football in January, even in LA. Yurik just like to escape the Detroit winter, even though he was a native.

Burnett to Vaught? Rollie knew something had to change - 5-6 was not the standard to which he'd become accustomed to his team playing.