AP NEWS SERVICE—FOOTBALL—MONDAY, JULY 19, 2010—SUNDAY’S ROUND OF FOOTBALL ACTION PRODUCED A MAJOR UPSET AS THE MOBILE GREYS RUINED THE PROSPECTORS’ UNBLEMISHED RECORD DEFEATING THE SAN FRANCISCO BALL CLUB 98 TO 66. QUARTERBACK T.K. MANN, INJURED EARLY IN THE GAME, SPENT THE ENTIRE FIRST HALF RED-CROSSED. HE CAME BACK IN THE SECOND HALF, BUT NEVER REGAINED HIS COMPOSURE. TEAM OFFICIALS REFUSE TO COMMENT ON THE EXTENT OF HIS INJURIES. THE LOSS OF MANN AT THIS PARTICULAR POINT IN THE SEASON COULD PROVE A DISTINCT SETBACK TO THE PROSPECTORS’ KILLERBOWL HOPES, ESPECIALLY SINCE NEXT SUNDAY THE PROSPECTORS COME UP AGAINST THE STILL UNDEFEATED NEW ENGLAND MINUTEMEN, WHO YESTERDAY COASTED TO AN EASY 102 TO 60 VICTORY OVER THE HAPLESS JUNEAU MIDNIGHTS. THE WIN RUNS THE MINUTEMEN’S UNBROKEN STRING OF VICTORIES TO 48, ONLY ONE SHY OF THE LEAGUE RECORD. PLAYING HIS USUAL FREEWHEELING GAME, HARV MATISION CARRIED FOR 300 YARDS. HE ALSO DISPATCHED TWO MIDNIGHT PLAYERS, INCLUDING POPULAR VETERAN DURKIE BROWN.

6

KILLERBOWL XXI, THE GAME

Saturday, January 1, 2011, 1:15 A.M.

With stunning accuracy, T.K. bores in two short passes to make the first down.

Noticeably bowlegged but at least ambulatory, Healy comes back into the game. Frazier, his arm encased in a rigid vinyl splint, also comes back in. It isn’t the first time Frazier’s played with a portion of his body shattered, nor, probably, will it be the last.

T.K. puts Frazier at tackle, moves Pfleg over to fullback.

On the second play of the next series, Lammy Howe catches the Minutemen’s left tackle with a vicious forearm. The tackle winds up on the street, his body spread-eagled on the sidewalk, his neck hanging over the curb. His protective Plexiglas mask has popped open. Howe takes advantage of it by kicking him hard in the face. When the Minutemen’s mediman pulls the tackle’s helmet off, the tackle’s got blood running out of his ears. He’s sure to be out for the game.

Howe’s evened the odds. In appreciation, T.K. gives him a hearty slap on the butt.

No longer outnumbered, T.K. is able to take the Prospectors on a long drive, down Phillips to Irving. They fight in one end of a vacant lot and out the other, battle through several buildings to emerge on Temple. From there, the goalyard is just down the street at the corner of Temple and Dern.

T.K. keeps the snap and dashes into a department store. He takes the steps to the second floor two at a time. He finds himself in the ladies’ department. Pausing for a moment to get his bearings, he spots the fire escape and heads toward it. He almost reaches it, when someone tackles him from behind. He hits, rolls and comes up in his defensive stance, the ball tucked into the gut pocket in his jersey, his right arm, fingers extended, thumb folded under, half cocked at the elbow, his left arm straight out in front of him.