The Bright Lights of Cornhole
Short Fiction: Rob and Monty take their backyard hobby to the big show.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
By Vince Wetzel
Copyright 2023 by Vince Wetzel and OT Press
“I can’t believe we’re here,” Monty said. They were in the hallway and ready to enter the main ballroom of the resort hotel in rural Nevada.
“I can,” Rob said, his 6-foot-4 frame towering over Monty. “We’ve been throwing bags every night for the last year to get here. We had better have some kind of success or else Becky was going to tell me to quit it.”
The stakes were high inside the ballroom. Unranked heading into this tournament, Rob and Monty were in the finals of the American Cornhole Association Western Regional Championships after improbable wins over the eighth, fifth and top seeds. A win here and they’d have enough points to make it to the World Championships. A loss would just bring a good story and pain watching the finals on TV back home in Reno, NV.
“It’s just wild,” Monty said. His eyes were wide and as he talked, his bushy brown mustache bobbed up and down. “We could be going to Orlando baby.”
Rob turned and placed his big strong hands on Monty’s shoulders. He had to settle his partner down if they were going to have any chance of winning this thing. He lowered himself so he could look below the bill of Monty’s cap and burrowed his glare into Monty’s eyes.
“You need to calm down,” Rob said. “We aren’t going to go anywhere if you’re so hyped up your slide the bags off the boards. Block out everything. This is just us tossing bags and winning the weekly community tournament at the brewery. OK. It’s nothing more than throwing the bags.”
“How can you be so calm?”
Rob smiled. He could mention playing linebacker for USC in a national championship game or how he learned to manage his emotions after his pro career was ended by injuries, or how he had to bite his lip when his daughter competed in collegiate golf tournaments at Cal. But he knew Monty, his neighbor and a local accountant, wouldn’t be able to relate.
“I just breathe Monty. That’s all. And let the muscle memory of all of our practice take over,” Rob said. “That’s why you gotta block all of this other hype stuff out. The big crowd, the noise, the lights, even the TV cameras.”
“I know, that’s sick right?” Monty said, his eyes big again. Rob should not have mentioned the TV cameras. “I hear Dana Peck is here.”
“Who’s that?” Rob said. Even though he threw bags every day, he rarely watched any tournaments on TV. He relied on Monty, who watched all competitions on YouTube, ESPN and any other broadcast of the sport, for information on key players and strategies.
“Dana does the play-by-play and sometimes interviews,” Monty said. “She also does sideline for the Baseball Broadcasting System. She was also on SportsCenter for about 5-10 years or so, so you might recognize her if you saw here.”
Rob wondered if his buddy Paul knew her. Paul was also at ESPN around the same time. He probably hit on her. That was Paul back then.
“We should get in there,” Rob said. “But you have to keep calm. OK? If we are going to have any kind of chance, I need you to be focused and not distracted.”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Monty said. “No, seriously. I’ll block it all out, like when I’m doing a year end stockholder’s report.”
Rob shrugged. Whatever worked.
“All right, here we go,” Rob opened the door and led Monty into the room. Even Rob had to take a moment and a breath. In the early rounds, there were no seats for spectators and the pitches were lined up in the ball room side by side eight deep. As the competition continued, the number of pitches reduced until there was only one for the round of 16. But even then, the number of people watching was relatively low.
It wasn’t until the semifinals where Rob felt the energy. He fed off it and he felt like he was back in his crimson and gold lining up to rush the quarterback at the Los Angeles Coliseum. Each time he drained a bag, the crowd clapped or cheered. They were the underdogs, and they were becoming a story.
Now, he and Monty were in the final, up against two of the top throwers in the country, Eric Jeffries and Chad Shaw. They'd gone up against Jeffries and Shaw a few times over the years at various tournaments they entered, and each time they were just a blip of backstory as Jeffries and Shaw cruised to a win.
Rob looked over at Monty, shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. Rob admitted. This was something.
“Hey, Rob? Monty?” called a voice to the side of them. They turned and saw a tall, thin brunette in slacks and creamy blouse approaching them, her square black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. Rob thought she dressed down her beauty so as not to draw attention.
“Dana Peck,” she said, stretching out her hand. “You’ve guys have had quite a run.”
“You bet we have,” Monty said. Rob had plenty of media training at USC a couple of decades ago. He would need to teach Monty a few basics.
“Definitely. We’ve been throwing really well and have found a groove at the right time,” Rob said. “We just need to keep focused one more time and hopefully things will work out. But we know Jeffries and Shaw are always at the top of their game, but if we continue to focus on what we can do, I think we can give them a run for their money.”
Dana smiled, then squinted as though she was searching her brain for why Rob looked familiar.
“So, you’re covering the tournament?” Monty asked, breaking her spell.
“Yep, I’m calling the finals,” she said. “I didn’t know much about cornhole until a few years ago, but when I got this gig, I did my research and it’s way more than just a backyard barbecue game.”
“Well, that’s where we got our start,” Rob said. “Monty and I are neighbors in Reno and I put in a regulation pitch in the backyard. Soon, we were throwing every night and then neighbors came over for a tournament. Then we got a local brewery to host. When we started winning those consistently, we decided to enter local and regional tournaments. And now, here we are.”
“I think a lot of the teams here got their start that way,” she said. “But from what I’ve noticed, you need that extra bit of dedication to perfect your form to get to this elite level. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” Monty said. “I really like your broadcasts and when you were on SportsCenter. Are you going back to ESPN?”
Dana smiled. “Thank you. I am actually on BBN, you know the Baseball Broadcast Network, doing the sideline reporter gig, but I’m hoping to break into baseball play-by-play at some point. At least, that’s the dream.”
“You’d be great at it,” Monty said.
“So, were you at ESPN around 10 years ago? I’m good friends with Paul Buckley,” Rob said.
Dana’s eyes perked up. Rob had surprised her. She pushed her toungue into the side of her cheek and took a beat before answering.
“Yeah, I know Paul. Or knew him. We’ve lost touch since he left and moved to... um... Sacramento?”
“Yeah,” Rob said. “He’s the sports anchor for the news there.”
“Really, that’s kind of a step down,” Monty said.
Rob knew the whole story. By Dana’s reaction to Paul’s name, he suspected she did too. But this wasn’t the time or the place to go through all of it so he went to the standard line.
“Well, he wanted to be closer to his parents and settle down to one community,” Rob said. “He likes it.”
“That’s good,” she said. “If you see him, tell him I said hi.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Rob saw a man with a headset approach Dana. A producer, Rob thought. They were getting close to broadcast.
“Yeah, I better get going,” Dana said. “Good luck.”
“Thanks. We’re going to need it,” Rob said.
“Wow, she’s even better looking in person,” Monty said. Rob shook his head. She was attractive, but he had moved on and was ready to focus on the task at hand. Beating Jeffries and Shaw and gaining a spot at the World Championships was the only thing he cared about.
“OK, so Jeffries likes to throw up blockers,” Rob said. “And I’m better at airmails so I’ll be on his side while you take on Shaw. Sound good?”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Monty said. “Wouldn’t it be great to win and go to Worlds?”
“Stop it,” Rob said. “Just focus on this match. That's what they’re doing. That’s why they’re good. They don’t mess around. Remember, we’ve faced them a handful of times and they have never said a word to us. That’s because they’re focused.”
“It’s intimidating as hell.”
“That too,” Rob nodded and smiled.
As the match started, Rob allowed himself a moment to look at the crowd. Rob stole a breath. He was surprised the setting affected him. It wasn’t the 100,000 he played in front of at USC, but he felt the energy of 1,000 people in portable stands in this ballroom. It was the intimacy. He could see each person sitting and watching him throw and that unnerved him just a bit. If this was how the crowd affected him, he hoped Monty wouldn’t shrink from the challenge.
“Good luck,” Rob said, extending his hand toward Jeffries.
Jeffries gripped his with a quick pump, without saying a word or making eye contact. This guy was brutal. As the higher seed, Jeffries went first and as predicted, he put a blocker right in front of the hole. Rob went high to try to toss the bag directly into the hole. He succeeded, but also dragged Jeffries’. After four throws, Jeffries took one point on the cancellation scoring system.
“Let’s go Monty,” Rob said. Now, it was Monty against Shaw.
Monty lost two points on his side and now they were down 3-0. Halfway to a skunk. He had to get a point on the board. If Jeffries and Shaw were ahead at 7-0, they automatically won. What an embarrassment on a national broadcast.
As Rob readied his throws, he shook off their humiliation. This is not the time to think about embarrassment. He needed to stay focused. Jeffries threw another blocker but it landed off to the side of the hole. Here was Rob’s opportunity. He slid a bag up the board and in the hole. Jeffries countered with an airmail. Rob put a blocker on the edge. Jeffries bag missed the mark and was blocked by Rob’s bag. Rob airmailed one directly into the hole. They each put their last bags into the hole, giving Rob and Monty two points. They were now down 2-3 and they’d go to the full 21 points.
“There you go hoss,” Monty said.
Rob’s inning had the calming effect on both he and Monty. The match progressed with each team exchanging points. Monty and Rob even led a few times. They were competing. They were close to a World Championship bid. By the time Shaw-Jeffries took a 20-19, Rob felt the same as he did on a final drive in the fourth quarter or when his daughter Leslie was on the 18th hole in the final pairing. It was crunch time.
He picked up the bags and tossed them in his hands to get the feel one more time. While it was entirely feasible that he’d have another set of throws after this inning, Rob knew this was it. One way or another, the match would be decided here.
Jeffries threw first and slid the bag in. Rob airmailed his in, followed by another airmail from Jeffries. Rob’s throw hugged the side of the hole but stayed up. Jeffries threw a blocker. Rob tried it airmail but it landed on top of Jeffries bag. Not wanting to risk bringing Rob’s bag into the hole, Jeffries threw another blocker. He had to airmail and hope he brought both bags in. If he did, they won. If one went in, it was a push. If neither went in, then no World Championships.
“Ogilvie Home Perm,” he heard a voice from the crowd say. It startled him. He had avoided watching the crowd since the opening throw, but he scanned the stands. Those three words could only come from his old friend David, who used that phrase to establish a throwing rhythm years ago on a guys trip. He looked over and saw the man he affectionately called “MIHO” thanks to a 25-year-old inside joke, along with another friend Jesse. They both waved. Seeing them here and their support raised his spirits and pulled back any hesistancy. Regardless of what happened, this was just a game. The pressure eased off.
“Ogilvie Home Perm,” he whispered and smiled as he tossed. The bag flew high and true, the spin giving it a grace as it floated through the air. He looked from the hole to the bag’s flight, willing it to the hole. As it came down, it looked on line. It looked good.
The bag hit the back of the board and slid off. Jeffries and Shaw put their hands up in triumph and came together in the middle of the pitch and embraced. Monty walked dejected toward Rob, who stood with this hands behind his head.
“Tough break hoss,” Monty said.
“Yeah, well,” Rob said. “You ride her ‘til she bucks ya or you don’t ride at all.”
Jeffries and Shaw approached them.
“Good match,” Jeffries said. “I thought you had us there.”
“Same,” Shaw said. “Keep it up. You had a great tournament. We know you’ll be back.”
“Oh, we will,” Monty said.
Rob looked back to the stands. They were all there. David, Jesse, his wife Becky and even Leslie. They surprised him for the final match. His disappointment faded as his gratitude for the people for whom he most cherished were there.
Rob is a character from the novel Friends in Low Places. Dana Peck will appear in the upcoming Lose Yourself, out Spring 2024.
Man, wanted them to win but "Ogilvie Home Perm" definitely cut the tension. Well played, Vinny. I like the weavings and flashbacks of FILP in this short ...