[Rain Man]

A Pittsburgh Holiday

A short story by Rain Man

Little Ben Rodzelowski sat in the stands, marveling at the scene around him. Coarsely hewn men and women were everywhere, wearing black and shouting obscenities at the field.

"I've never seen so much sausage and beer," he said in the cloud-shrouded afternoon gloom.

"Save your cup," his father Terry Rodzelowski beamed. "We'll throw it in the river after the game."

"But that's polluting. It kills fish."

His father shrugged. "Who cares? It floats down to Cincinnati."

Ben looked down at the field where the Steelers stood in punting formation. "Is Kenny Pickett the best quarterback ever?" he asked.

He waited a moment while his father finished chugging a 40 on a dare from Uncle Jack. "He can be," his father answered at long last, "but right now the best quarterback ever is either Ben Roethlisberger or Terry Bradshaw. You and I were named after them, you know."

"We were?"

"We're all named after Steelers. You're the firstborn after Ben, but your little brothers Hines and Troy are named after them. And I'm the oldest in my generation, but there's also your Uncle Jack and Uncle Tunch and Uncle L.C."

"What does L.C. stand for?"

"We don't know."

Ben thought for a moment. "That explains the boys, but what about the girls? Who are my sisters named after?"

His father yelled an obscenity at the field. "Eh, they mostly named after the attorneys who helped Ben get out of the rape charges."

"Oh."

"I mean, they're heroes, too."

"I guess."

"Want a beer?"

"I'm only eight years old."

Ben watched the action on the field as George Pickens threw his helmet at a cowering member of the training staff. "Are all of the Steelers great men?" he asked.

"Yes. Steelers are the manliest of men."

"Even Antonio Brown?"

"Especially Antonio Brown. And we're manly too, since we're Steelers fans."

Ben looked around at the mostly unemployed men around him. "Really?"

"Yes. Now wave your towel! Everyone's waving their towels!"

Ben looked in his bag. "You mean this handkerchief?"

"It's a towel! A terrible towel! Now wave it around!"

Perplexed, Ben pulled the handkerchief from his bag. Following the lead of the men around him, he began waving it in the air as if he were a dainty 19th-century belle hailing a horse and carriage.

"That's the way," his father said, beaming with pride. "Wave that towel around".

Ben beamed as well. He was a Pittsburgh man now. "I'll take that beer now," he said.