Super Skilled Me

(3)

          Ah, yes. Nothing beats that smell—when you first enter a Subway sandwich shop.

          The scent of fresh, Italian bread baking warmly in the oven wafts through my nostrils. There are already three people in line ahead of me—a tall, lanky boy, along with a couple around my age—but I don't mind waiting. While doing so, I open up my phone and take a look at my notifications. I see that Jeffrey, the team clown, has posted a message in the team group chat. I shake my head with a smile, seeing how immature my teammates are.

         Yo, any tips on how to pee with a boner?

          Most of the guys respond with laughing emojis, and T-roy eventually claims that Jeffrey needs to stop taking viagra, which we all know is just sarcasm. He then quickly apologizes for his immaturity, and we focus back on tomorrow night's game.

          So...jokes aside...are we ready for Notre Dame? assistant coach Anton posts in the chat. Man, he's such a buzzkill. Like, have some fun every now and then. Oh, well.

          I'm going to need help down low in post, Kevin types in his poor English. We may need a double team because they big taller than me.

          I got you bro, Jeffrey replies, now taking things more seriously.

          Remember, we need to be on the team bus by 4:00 if we wanna make it over the bridge with traffic, Coach Meldrum informs. I want us there an hour before the game so we aren't rushed and can have a good warm-up.

          All the guys respond with a thumbs-up emoji, the group's way of informing they have read the text.

          I let the boys discuss their plans for tomorrow's game, as it's now time for me to order my wonderful sandwich. Nothing hits the spot like a classic Meatball Marinara sub. The same employee as always—a young Philipino man who goes by the nickname "Boss"—recognizes me as we make eye contact. He's the same guy that's been serving me here for the last ten years. He's practically memorized my order by now, out of all the hundreds and hundreds of people he serves.

          When I was a young kid, my dad would always take me to this Subway and buy me a tuna sandwich. There was a special called "Toonie Tuesday," where you could purchase a six-inch sub for only two dollars. Looking back now, I can see why some people think tuna is gross, but man I loved those sandwiches as a child. Eventually, after eating countless subs, I made the transition to meatball and never went back. It's definitely my go-to whenever I'm up at the mall in town.

          "Hey, man. Long time no see," Boss jokes, putting on a fresh pair of gloves to serve my sandwich. "What can I get for you today? Footlong meatball?"

          I laugh. "You know it."

          "Sounds good. What kinda bread you want, man?" he asks in his Phlilipno accent.

          "Italian herbs and cheese."

          "And you like that extra sauce, yeah?"

          I nod. "Of course."

          "Toasted, too, right?"

          "Yup. Gotta have it toasted."

          We both laugh this time.

          I stand in front of the counter. The hot steam coming out from the pan of meatballs excites me with delight. Watching him place the cheddar cheese over them in a perfectly straight row makes my tastebuds quiver. While my sandwich is being toasted, Boss asks me how the team is doing. He's a basketball fan himself, even though he's no taller than 5'3". But hey, you know what they say. It's not the size of the dog in the fight; it's the size of the fight in the dog.