“That’s George Unwin. We met in a number of finals and because I usually won, reporters dubbed him George the Second. We were both very short, so they called our matches ‘Battles of the Midgets.’ We sometimes meet for lunch … and we’re still short.”
We sipped our coffee. “Do you know,” Ace asked, “that there is an expression ‘to wear a cane’?” I did not, but as a former English teacher I am always glad to learn anything about our complex and amazing language.
We decided to have dinner at a restaurant where Ace had had a cane stolen, to see if history would repeat itself. When we sat down, I tied a thin, strong thread under the head of the cane and attached the other end to the tablecloth. When we left, I forgot to remind Ace of the trap; he took the cane and pulled the cloth from the table. Dishes smashed, cutlery tinkled, and my fee lay shattered on the floor.
Three days later I had made no progress, despite using up a lot of thread. We visited stores and restaurants, the library, the post office, and a church. I took a little pride only in the fact that Ace was still “wearing” the same cane he had brought to my office. In the afternoon I dropped in at his house to report my progress – or lack of it. I hoped I wasn’t acquiring a taste for his coffee. He was just leaving to meet George Unwin for one of their reminiscence sessions and he invited me to accompany him, and I accepted. It was the same restaurant where we had demolished the dishes; I hoped the waiters and waitresses wouldn’t remember us, but I feared they did when later they served our coffee in Styrofoam cups and our sandwiches on cardboard plates.
We arrived first and I took the opportunity to set up my cane and cord trap. When George arrived, Ace introduced us. We ordered, and as we sipped and chewed they joked about their long-ago rivalry: incompetent referees, bungling ballboys and ballgirls, fickle fans.
Ace was going to the washroom and I was just returning when there was a quiet disaster at our table: the cloth and everything on it lay scattered on the floor and an embarrassed George held Ace’s cane with the thread attached.
“Why, George?” I asked.
“Yes, why?” echoed Ace.
“I was tired of always being the runner-up. It gave me a certain satisfaction to see you hobbling around without your cane.”
I put the money for my share of the lunch on the bare table and left Ace and George to settle their differences … and to pay for any damage. I returned to the office where, I hoped, Hank had a pot of Louis Cyr coffee brewing. I decided to avoid that restaurant for some time.
I was glad that I did not “wear” a cane and I hoped that I would never have to, but fortunately I could not think of anyone I had ever humiliated by beating him or her at anything.
