Dwayne pulled onto Interstate 30, headed east, and put the pedal to the floor.
57.
The Audi reached 150 MPH with ease. Dwayne loved the intensity and adrenaline of driving at breakneck speeds in traffic. It often involved utilization of the road’s shoulder, which could prove tricky if debris had gathered there. He cracked the sunroof and blew pot smoke out of the opening. He was weaving wildly in and out of traffic like a maniacal professional.
After a few short miles, Dwayne blew right through a speed trap that had been set up on an overpass. He was clocked by police at 161 MPH. Naturally, they decided to try to pull him over. It started with one motorcycle cop and one cop in a sedan. Once they realized there was a possibility that Dwayne wasn’t pulling over anytime soon, the number of police joining the chase began to increase.
It wasn’t that Dwayne didn’t realize there was a growing party of law enforcement personnel pursuing his beautiful black luxury vehicle on that fine morning; he just didn’t care. Since when were badass grandmaster caped crusader Jedi-ninja motherfuckers held to the same rules as the common folk?
No less than a dozen cruisers were on his tail as he neared the edge of Fort Worth and entered Arlington. The Arlington Police Department was already well aware of Dwayne’s impending journey through their city and had ten officers join in the chase as soon as he crossed into their territory. Twenty-three police vehicles were behind Dwayne when he passed the Dallas Cowboys Stadium.
“Bring Aikman back, Jerry!” Dwayne yelled out of his window as he went screaming past the large sports dome, home of his favorite NFL team.
Dwayne messed with his MP3 player until he got to Pink Floyd: The Wall.
He sung loudly at the top of his lungs about all of humanity merely being bricks in the wall.
Several times, whenever Dwayne’s speed dipped to 120 MPH, the police would pull up beside him and instruct Dwayne to pull over. He would simply take a hit from his joint and wave. The police didn’t know how to proceed. They’d never pursued a pot-smoking Batman at racetrack speeds before. No precedent had been set.
By the time Dwayne made it to Dallas, there were thirty-one cop cars and eleven motorcycles hot on his tail. In his peripheral vision, he saw that three helicopters monitored the chase from above. Never having been a big fan of the city of Dallas, Dwayne decided to head back to Fort Worth.
Dwayne, thirty-one police cars, and eleven police motorcycles all put on their right-hand blinkers and took the next exit. A dozen Dallas Police Department cruisers had already been en route to join the chase and were soon intermingled among the other police vehicles, all traveling at over 130 MPH.
On the other end of the Dallas–Fort Worth metroplex, Estelle was returning home from her morning yoga class. She had been having a nice relaxing morning of exercise and green tea.
Estelle slipped out of her sweaty clothes and out of habit flipped on the bedroom television. A breaking news flash came across the screen. A man dressed as Batman was leading a high-speed police chase from Fort Worth to Dallas and was now heading back to Fort Worth again. Estelle immediately jumped over and turned up the volume.
“We’re in the KJTX traffic chopper here, Gretchen, following a Batman impersonator who appears to be yelling angrily out the window at the Dallas Cowboys Stadium. Like many of us, he appears to have some pretty disparaging words about the owner, Jerry Jones.”
“Thanks, Todd. Now, you said he was a Batman impersonator. In order for someone to be an impersonator, doesn’t the person who they are impersonating actually have to be real? Are you implying that Batman is actually real? Is that the story here?”
“Jesus, Gretchen, are you being serious?”
“Just trying to be grammatically correct here, Todd.”
“Oh, I see, you’re like one of those freakin’ grammar Nazis on the Internet, huh? Well, let me tell you what you can—”
Estelle hit the television’s mute button. She nervously dialed Dwayne on her cell phone. He answered after one ring.
“Hello, Sugarbuns! What’s shakin?” Dwayne said. “Hey, I’ve been thinking about the baby … If it’s a boy, can we call him Skywalker? How cool would that be?!” Dwayne was speaking fast. The adrenaline was coursing through his veins.
“Honeyballs, how fast are you driving right now?” Estelle asked, hoping against hope that somehow it wasn’t Dwayne on the television.
“One hundred fifty-eight, cupcake titties, why?”
Estelle wanted to be more upset than she was, but she couldn’t. “Just making sure that it’s you I’m watching on TV, pulling an OJ.”
Dwayne laughed, hit his joint, and turned the stereo down so that he could hear Estelle better. “That’s awesome, babe. Great reference. So you can see me right now?”
“Yes.”
“Sweet! Keep watching!”
Estelle watched as Dwayne leaned out of the driver’s window of the Audi, pointed toward the closest news helicopter, and waved.
“You see that, Baby? I’m waving at you!”
“I see, honey. I’m waving at the television right now.” A single tear of joy trickled down Estelle’s face. She loved him so much.
“Awww, you’re so cute,” Dwayne said.
“Dwayne, you have like fifty cop cars behind you. Don’t you think you should slow down and maybe consider pulling over? You have a baby on the way! I don’t want anything to happen to you!”
“I know, Boogerbottom. I just wanted to go for a drive and listen to some music. It’s not like I wanted all those cops to follow me.”
“That’s okay, Butterweenie, I understand. Pull over now, before something happens, okay?”
“Okay, Babynipples, I will. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Estelle watched the television intently. After a few seconds, the Audi began to slow down, and several police cruisers pulled in front of it. He was instructed via megaphone to shut off his engine and step outside his vehicle. As the news helicopters circled the scene, Fort Worth’s skyline could be seen in the background.
Estelle’s phone rang again. It was Dwayne.
“Hey Cookienookie, I was just thinking. Can you go ahead and head down to the police station? I may need you to bail me out.”
“I’m leaving now, babe.”
Millions of television viewers watched the scene unfold on what had quickly become a national news story. There wasn’t anyone in the entire country who didn’t think Dwayne was at least a little bit of a badass as he stepped out from his $120,000 luxury car in full Batman regalia.
Dozens of officers approached Dwayne as he stood with his hands above the back of his Batman mask.
As the police closed in on him, Dwayne’s phone quacked.
“Hang on, guys,” Dwayne said to the cops. “I just got a text.”
He methodically pulled his phone from his pocket with two fingers, making sure the police didn’t think he was reaching for a gun. He looked at his phone. It was the text chain again.
RUSS:
Are you guys watching the news? Some fucking guy dressed like Batman just led the cops on a chase from Fort Worth to Dallas and back!
STEVE:
No shit! I’m watching it now! This is awesome!
DWAYNE:
Can’t text right now. Getting arrested.
TOMMY:
Are you kidding me? Are you watching this? The guy is texting while the cops are yelling at him!
DAVE:
Tv doesn werk.
RUSS:
This guy has balls! We’ve gotta meet this guy!
“Drop the phone!” one of the cops yelled at Dwayne. “Now!” Dwayne’s phone quacked again.
“Hang on, sir,” Dwayne said. “I apologize. I know it’s rude to respond right now, but it’s rude not to respond also. I’m in a real bind here. Just gimme a second.”
STEVE:
Oh man, this guy is so screwed!
RUSS:
Look! He’s reading his texts
again! This guy is my hero!
TOMMY:
Did you see him yelling at Cowboys Stadium? Oh man, that was priceless! I wonder what he said!
DWAYNE:
I said Jerry needs to step back and actually let someone coach, and he needs to invest in a badass defensive coordinator and a young backup quarterback. Now, seriously, I can’t text right now. It’s pissing the bacon off.
STEVE:
Wait … Dwayne?
RUSS:
Whoa.
TOMMY:
Holy shit.
DAVE:
Stop texting. Tryin to poo.
Dwayne handed his phone to one of the cops. “Thanks,” he said, offering a thumbs-up. “You guys were great today.”
Dwayne was promptly tackled, Tasered, and handcuffed.
58.
Detective Loffland greeted Dwayne in one of the interrogation rooms a couple of hours after he was stuffed into the back of a police car. Dwayne was still handcuffed and wearing everything but the mask and gloves from his Batman costume. He sat at a small metal table, rubbing the black ink on his hands—hands that had just been fingerprinted.
The detective took the seat across from Dwayne. The overhead light was reflecting brightly off Loffland’s bald head. Dwayne pretended to be blinded by it momentarily in an attempt to elicit a laugh. It didn’t work.
“Hello, Dwayne,” Detective Loffland said without a hint of a smile.
“Hello, Detective,” Dwayne replied.
“Dwayne, do you understand why you’re here right now?”
“Was it for criticizing Jerry Jones?” Dwayne queried sarcastically. “Because I was just saying what everyone else is thinking!”
Detective Loffland stared at Dwayne. He didn’t look amused. Dwayne was beginning to wonder if his rapport with the detective was dwindling.
“Dwayne, you just had forty-three police cars and eleven police motorcycles chasing you from city to city. You were reaching speeds in excess of one hundred and sixty MPH while smoking dope and wearing a superhero costume.”
The detective paused, waiting for Dwayne to defend himself. He didn’t.
“Here’s the thing, Dwayne. I like you, okay? You seem like a good dude. But you embarrassed the city today, and you put the lives of my men at risk. Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”
Dwayne took his time before answering. He knew he had to do this right. He figured there was a distinct possibility that his midmorning drive might have drawn too much unnecessary attention to himself, and he worried that the detective might be onto him.
“I apologize for putting the officers’ lives in danger,” Dwayne began. “I also apologize if I made the city look bad. That wasn’t my intention. I’ve just been dealing with a lot of assholes lately, sir. I wanted to blow off some steam. So, I hopped on the highway, hit the gas pedal hard, and sparked up a joint.”
“In a Batman costume.”
“Yes.”
“Does that strike you as … odd, Dwayne?”
“No sir. I love Batman.”
“Well, I love Spider-Man, but you don’t see me throwing on goddamn red and blue tights and jumping rooftop to rooftop. Sweet Jesus, Dwayne.”
“I understand, sir. Probably a bad call.”
“Yeah. Probably.”
The detective leaned back in his chair and exhaled. He placed his hands on his forehead, and slid them all the way over the top of his head. Then he did something Dwayne didn’t expect.
Detective Loffland giggled.
He immediately tried to conceal it and act tough again, but the giggles kept coming back. It was a really high-pitched, funny giggle too. It was like an Anderson Cooper giggle. When he’d try to trap it in his mouth, it would find its way out his nose.
Detective Loffland finally gave in to it. His face turned bright red. He doubled over and just kept giggling.
And it was contagious, too. Soon Dwayne began to giggle. Two more officers came in to find out what was going on, and they started giggling. Before long, there were ten cops, one detective, and Batman, all in a tiny interrogation room laughing their ever-loving asses off.
“I told you he’s a good sumbitch, boys!” Detective Loffland said to the others. “Oh, man … This is one for the record books!”
One of the cops unhooked Dwayne’s handcuffs. Another handed him a cup of coffee and a breakfast muffin.
Estelle walked in a few moments later, quietly watching Dwayne and the officers joke about the police chase. She couldn’t believe it.
Dwayne looked over at Estelle and winked.
“He’s such a badass!” she said to herself.
“Oh, brother,” one of the officers exclaimed. “You know Jerry Jones is gonna be catching some shit about you for a while!”
“Yeah, man!” another shouted out. “Thank you for saying it!”
“Even Batman hates Jerry!” a third officer yelled.
After a round of backslapping, Detective Loffland held up a hand to calm the room.
“Okay, okay, okay,” he said. “Now Dwayne, I’m gonna have to write you a couple of tickets. I can let the weed thing slide, and I’ll throw out what I can, but this still ain’t gonna be cheap, buddy.”
“I understand,” Dwayne replied. “You guys have been very cool. It’s refreshing to meet good people. I meet way too many assholes.”
“Well, it was a nice diversion from trying to find some crazy band of serial killers,” the detective said, holding Dwayne’s gaze. “And for that, we thank you. So why don’t you and your lovely wife go sign the release papers, and the other officers and I will get back to the business of catching killers.”
“Yes, sir,” Dwayne said, standing up. He gave yet another firm handshake to the detective. He then shook hands with the other officers. He felt like a celebrity.
Several officers made cracks when Dwayne walked out the door.
“Keep it real, Batman!”
“Watch out for the Joker!”
“Be watching the sky for the Bat-Signal! We may need you!”
Dwayne and Estelle headed home after spending another hour filling out legal paperwork. Dwayne burst out in giggle fits several times on his drive home. The two of them had barely made it through their front door before Estelle slammed Dwayne against the entryway wall.
“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you more,” she said as she ripped her top off.
Estelle handed Dwayne his mask and instructed him to put it on. She then began to unhook his bright yellow Official Batman Utility Belt and pull his rubber pants down.
“Give it to me, Batman,” she growled. “Give it to me now.”
59.
The baseball game the following evening went exactly as Dwayne expected, with the Tigers easily clutching a victory. The outcome of the game, however, was the only thing that had gone according to plan.
The entire country had become fascinated with Dwayne. Media vans and reporters camped out in his front yard, following his every move. Their local little league baseball game inadvertently became a nationally televised event. There were easily a thousand people in attendance. Everyone wanted to know who this rebellious outlaw Batman guy was.
Overnight, Dwayne had captured the hearts and minds of Americans. He was a regular dad who loved coaching baseball, and he’d had enough of the bullshit. He’d decided to take a stand against it. His attitude resonated with the average working-class Joe. Several fans wore Batman masks to show their support.
After the game, the crowd roared for the Tigers as they shook their opponents’ hands. Dwayne somehow managed to keep his team focused for the postgame speech, which wasn’t easy. Camera flashes illuminated the ballpark from all angles. Dwayne needed to pump his boys up for the next game and make sure their eyes remained on the prize.
“No one took you seriously, men,” Dwayne addressed the team. “No one took you seriously as athletes. No one took you seriously as baseball players. No one took you seriously as soldiers. No one took y
ou seriously as fighters. And I know how you feel.”
Dwayne paced before them. He stole glances at each boy, as was his custom. He wanted every player engaged in what was being said.
“No one took me seriously either. No one took me seriously about doing what was right if we wanted this team to win. No one took me seriously when I said this team was fierce, and had the talent to win it all. No one took me seriously. No one. But I want to ask you …”
Dwayne turned and pointed to the scoreboard, displaying a score of 17–2. Cameras flashed wildly from beyond the fences.
“Do you think they take us seriously now?”
“YES, SIR!” they all screamed in unison, throwing their arms in the air.
“Do they know you’re athletes now?”
“YES, SIR!”
“Do they know you’re fighters now?”
“YES, SIR!”
“Do they know you’re soldiers now?”
“YES, SIR!”
“You’re goddamn right they do,” he said proudly. “It was a mistake to underestimate us, men. It was a huge mistake. And it was a mistake the Mariners won’t make again. They’re going to come out swinging on Saturday, men. And have no doubt about one thing: this will be the toughest game you’ve ever played. They’ll play ugly. They’ll play dirty. They’ll play hard. But it won’t matter, because we’re going to do what the Tigers do … and what is it that the Tigers do?”
“TIGERS KILL!”
“What do they do?”
“TIGERS KILL!”
“One more time, everybody in, on three.”
“One, two, three … TIGERS KILL!!!”
The players walked toward the dugout and grabbed their bags. The media flooded the field and surrounded the boys and their parents, especially Coach Dwayne and his assistants. All of the parents who had once been critical of Dwayne now gave high praise, as if they’d supported his coaching style all along. Everyone was now Dwayne’s best friend.
Dwayne managed to pay absolutely zero attention to the reporters’ endless barrage of questions. All he could think of was the championship. Reporters trailed Dwayne and his family on all sides to the parking lot. Dwayne made sure to hold Estelle’s hand and kept his other arm around Alex. He tucked the two of them into Estelle’s car and kissed Estelle through her window.
Base Ball Dads Page 25