November 3, 2009.

“Dad, you’re going to kill yourself and me if you keep this stuff up. If you were to die today we would lose the dealership, because of having to pay Uncle Sam $100 Million in estate taxes.”

Jack, Sr. looked surprised at his son’s passion about the dealership and his lack of passion over his condition. “Son, you didn’t say that you were happy to see me survive.” “Dad, I love you, but you’re driving me crazy with this teen behavior you’ve been exhibiting these days, fast cars, fast women, sports camps, drinking and driving. I’m no saint, but you need to remember you’re not 25 anymore.”

November 25, 2009

“Welcome back, Jack. Glad to see you’ve had a full recovery from that beaning. You’re looking nice and tanned after that desert stay”, said Beau Price, a top salesman at the dealership.

“Good to be back Beau, how things swinging around here?” Jack, Sr. asked. “Bout as good as can be expected in this economy. Folks is hurting, and when they’s hurting, they ain’t buying cars unless the old one breaks down or sumthin.” “How’s Junior doing running the place?” Jack, Sr. inquired with a stern look. “Doin’ good, real good. The boy’s a financial genius. If he hadn’t been on top a things, we’d have cratered for sure.” Beau replied, ever the salesman.

Jack, Jr. hung up the phone, shaking his head, “Crazy, old coot”. He called the hospital and got hold of the emergency staff who promised to call him back. He called the travel agency to get a flight out of either Nashville or Atlanta as soon as possible for Phoenix. He called in the night manager to let him know that he was in charge of the dealership for the next few days, but that if any major decisions were needed to call him on his cell phone or send him an email.

“Mr. Jenkins, this is Doctor Padhur, I am calling to let you know what’s going on with your father. He suffered a fracture of the orbital bone and a detached retina. We can refer you to a very good opthalmic surgeon who can fix those two injuries. We have him heavily sedated so that he doesn’t jerk about and lose any chance we have to fix the retina. He suffered a concussion. The petscan indicated that he’s had a few before. Luckily for him this is a mild one, the blow from the ball was not as direct as it might have been. We need your permission as next of kin to schedule these two procedures.” “Sure, doc”, Jack, Jr. responded, “And I’m on my way, I should be there sometime tomorrow morning.” “Very good”, the doctor responded. Jack, Jr. gave him his cell phone number and they ended the call. “If he keeps this up, I may not have to worry about him dying in 2010″, Junior muttered to himself.

September 12, 2009.

“Mr. Jenkins step out of the car, please”, the local policeman politely asked. “Do you know who I am son?” asked Jack, Sr. “Your license says, Jack Jenkins, sir. Have you had anything to drink, today?” “Just a couple sips of bourbon during the game, officer.” and I need you to count backward from ‘t’ to ‘m’”, the officer asked. “t, s, r, p, o, n, m.” Jack responded. “Okay now I need you to walk a straight line toe to toe”, the officer ordered. “I can’t do that, I blew out my knees in the NFL.”, Jack responded. “Okay, tilt your head backward, extend your arms and touch your nose like this”, the officer directed in almost a monotone. Jack, Sr. did and almost fell down. The officer then said, “Mr. Jenkins, I suspect that you’re driving under the influence, now you have a choice of whether you want to blow in this balloon or have blood drawn back at the station. Or you can refuse in which case I must take your license and you will be automatically suspended from driving for a year”, the officer spoke almost like a robot. “Take my license”, Jack, Sr., responded. “Okay, we’ll impound your car now, and a family member can pick it up at the impound lot, you’re riding with me to jail”, the cop ordered. “To jail?” Jack asked. “Yessir, I’ll be booking you on suspicion of driving under the influence”, the officer answered.

Once they arrived at the Station, the desk Sergent noticed that it was Jack Jenkins former star player and NFL player who was being booked. He called, Jack, Jr. “Junior, your Dad got pulled over for DUI, come and get him”. Junior looked at the young face in bed with him. “Sorry dear, I have to go bail my dad out of jail, can I have a raincheck”.

September 13, 2009.

Jack, Sr. had a hangover. He walked into the kitchen seeking a pain reliever. He did remember his visit to jail and knew he had to deal with that. The doorbell rang and sounded like a shotgun blast to Jack’s splitting head. He ambled to the door and saw junior waiving a bag with presumably some sort of food in it. “Hi, dad, figured you’d need a little food, I brought enough for you and Swedish blonde.” Jack, Sr. looked into the bag and saw several egg and bacon sandwiches, hash browns, juice and a large coffee. “Thanks, son and thanks for bailing me out last night.”

“Dad, we’re going to have to hire someone to drive you around. You could’ve killed someone last night, yourself included, and you can’t drive for a year”, Junior added. “I’m going to fight the suspension”, Senior responded. “Unless you get the Governor, to pull some strings, that isn’t going to happen and probably not soon”, Junior answered. “So, I figure I’ll get one of the clean-up boys at the dealership to be your driver. We’ll fix you up with a nice black sedan with tinted windows, and a privacy window between the seats, and let you look like a Governor or something.” Junior said, ever the salesman. “Okay, and get Jeb to call me, I’m going to need a lawyer for this DUI thing.”