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more points than the other team.”
    Joe Warren turned to Anna and said, “I forgot from last season to this one how much football this boy really knows.”
    â€œSee, Gramps,” she said. “He’s the one who’s a know-it-all, not me.”
    Joe Warren turned back to Charlie now. “Bet you didn’t know that we used to have two pro teams in L.A. when I was a boy.”
    â€œRams and Dons,” Charlie said. “Before they merged into one team.”
    Anna’s gramps made a whistling sound.
    Charlie shrugged. “I can’t help it, Mr. Warren. History’s my favorite subject in school, and football is my favorite subject, period.”
    â€œOkay, one more trivia question: The old Rams moved here from somewhere else. What city was it?”
    â€œCleveland.”
    And Joe Warren threw up his hands. “I give up.”
    Now JJ Guerrero was the one forcing a throw, trying to complete a deep out pattern that Charlie knew was too much for his arm, getting intercepted at the Rams’ twenty-two-yard line.
    â€œLook at that, Gramps!” Anna said. “Same old same old.”
    â€œI’ve been saying we need a veteran quarterback to play behind Chase and work with him,” the old man said. “Or just to get us to the next kid who’ll hopefully turn out to be what we hoped Chase would be.”
    As the Bulldogs’ defense came back on the field, Anna reached behind her grandfather and pinched Charlie’s arm.
    â€œOw?” he said.
    â€œTell Gramps what you were saying last night about Tom Pinkett,” Anna said.
    Charlie shook his head, no. Eyes pleading with her to drop this.
    â€œTell me what?” Joe Warren said.
    â€œTell him what or I will,” Anna said.
    â€œYour grandfather doesn’t want to hear what I think about an old guy the Bengals are probably going to cut,” Charlie said. “And you know I talk just to talk sometimes.”
    â€œActually,” Anna said, “you never do that.”
    â€œWhat
about
Tom Pinkett?” Joe Warren said. “I forgot he was even still in the league.”
    Charlie, talking too fast, told him what he thought. He said that the Bengals had brought in three veteran quarterbacks to see which one of them would be best to back up their starter, who hadn’t missed a start in four seasons. Even if Tom Pinkett made the team, he’d be nothing more than an insurance policy.
    But watching a few minutes of highlights the night before, Charlie thought he had shown way more arm than the last time he had really gotten a chance to play, two years ago with the Dolphins.
    â€œSo you’re a fan of his?” Joe Warren said. “The last time Tom was even close to being a star in this league was before you were born.”
    â€œJust going off what I saw.”
    â€œYou seem to have seen plenty.”
    â€œJust paying attention, Mr. Warren.”
    The Rams ran out the clock on the rest of the half. Joe Warren stood up. “More meeting and greeting?” Anna said.
    â€œNo,” her grandfather said, sounding tired all of a sudden. “If I don’t get up and move around, my back has a tendency to stiffen up.”
    He left them there.
    â€œHe really likes you,” Anna said.
    â€œHe’s
being
nice to me, there’s a difference.”
    â€œNope. He means it with you the way he means it with me.”
    When the second half started Joe Warren was back with them, saying that he didn’t hate many things in the world but small talk was one of them.
    Then the three of them went back to watching the game as if it really mattered, maybe because it did to them, even if it was mostly being played now by rookies and free agents and veterans trying to show the coaches enough to make it through the next round of cuts at the end of the week.
    Mr. Warren seemed to say less and look more tired as the game wore on. But he still didn’t miss much. They