Jamdown

Chapter 13

Donavan Malt

I waded through the book trying to figure out what I should have done. The game was on Saturday and two pads needed to be repaired. I hoped Hill’s father would be finished, but it was not an easy fix for the both of them. 

He loved American football. Fixing our equipment was his way of showing his appreciation for all our efforts even if they were mostly losses. Mr. Hill always was the optimist. I was told long ago, that a loss was the best thing that happened to a man. That was what I believed as well.

Hill’s father was the one that owned the Assassins and naturally, we diverted to him when we needed advice on any big decisions.  He was a business owner of a clothing chain on the eastern side of the island, where he had three stores, one in Montego Bay, St. James, and two in St. Elizabeth. His business logo was neatly printed on the right lower side of our shirts. 

“So, Malt, you okay?” He came forward wearing a green t-shirt and blue jeans. 

A smile crossed his brown face as he sat before me. His belly hung over the hidden belt. Grey hairs rounded the sideburns. A white cup rested in his hand. 

“Yes, I am fine,” I said.

“That is good.” He laid the cup down. “I hear you guys got a scorcher of a running back.”

“Oh, Irwin Pristine, yes, we call him Prix.”

“Ah, nice, is he good?”

“His speed is amazing, he needs to work on his running technique and carry through. He has a fumbling problem.”

Mr. Hill laughed with his hand on his stomach. “Sounds like he can’t take a hit too well, but give him time, he will toughen up soon enough.”

I twisted my lips, hesitant. “So, I am in charge now.”

“Yes.” Mr. Hill leaned forward and gestured with his hands to the side. “You are the boss now. You have to lead the Assassins to great things. I heard you preeing the Fiesta Cup, you have a high chest, my son.”

I sighed. “Dreams do not matter unless we can pull them off. We are strapped for cash right now Hill. I need more members, better members, I know that will burn your pocket. I do not know. Tell me what you are doing and advise me here.”

Hill widened his eyes and nodded his head with a serious stare. “Ok, right now, I can contribute sixty thousand dollars monthly to the team, I can be consistent with that. If I have anything more I will give it.”

That was double the rate of minimum wage in this country. That had to be then shared for eleven people, inclusive of gas, food, and health care. It was not enough, besides I needed eighty-eight thousand to pay eleven players. We should have more members, to be honest. The depth of the team was bad. Some members had not even came to games when asked.

I said, “Sir, I need at least one hundred thousand dollars monthly to run this team at an average level.”

“I know my boy, I know.” Hill looked to the side. Raising his head slightly, he continued, “Well what about that fund the NFL offers?”

 It was not the NFL, but an organization associated with it. They supported Jamaica’s Football League. “That fund is for teams in the league. We can’t apply for it.” My voice was dry of the joy I desired feeling.

“I am sure there are other funds you can try.”

“Maybe.” I took up the book. It was a small handbook on Setting up American Football teams for high schools. I waved it around. “It is hard to continue as we are right now. Right now foodstuff, electricity, they are increasing in Jamaica. Man cannot survive off two grand per match, which would be once per week. I can’t survive off that. Honestly, I used to tell Mikey to keep it. I have my job at the phone company, so I can lean on that. But some of the team do not have their situation secure like that.”