Back with more from the fourteenth.
“You have to protect the quarterback,” Dean Kattahookee muttered as his assistant and Walter Flint stepped into the room.
The assistant put a hand on the side of the bed and brushed off a few cookie crumbs. “It’s all right,” he said as he turned to look at Coach Flint. “You don’t have to stay for this part. I understand that the Dean was to meet with you to discuss the possibility of increasing funds for your players, but given the current circumstances…”
“Oh, sure. Of course,” Walter responded. “I, I, I understand.”
“Someone from our office will be in touch with you to re-schedule the appointment–and perhaps over something less excitable.”
Walter Flint nodded, smiled, and quietly left the room. He sat outside the hospital’s main entrance for what seemed like an hour. A tide of thoughts swept through his mind as he tried to process the events of the last couple of hours. One minute he was about to talk business with Dean Kattahookee and the next minute, the Dean was on the ground. Flint even shook the man’s hand, said a few words to him, and walked with him a few hundred feet outside. It had to have been that phonecall. Before he could speculate much on the matter, Flint realized that he was without transportation. He took out his cell phone and began dialing his niece’s number. He gave her his location, told her he would explain in the car, and took a few deep breaths. What would he tell his coaching staff?