That 53 you saw in Memphis was a foregone conclusion. Rhonda Evans called it, partly because she had the benefit of hindsight to aid her. And The Whaler called it too, but for a totally different reason: I’d seen something here in Cape Ann that led me to believe no other outcome was possible.

“And what did you see?” you wonder.

A scene, my friend. A dialogue. And I’ll put it in play-form for you to read.

Scene: A common bar in Gloucester where numerals of every origin gather. It’s high noon on September 30th, and the Arabic numerals, many of whom are devout Muslims, have yet to arrive because they can’t drink while the sun is up during Ramadan. Most of the bar’s habitués are Roman, and at a table in the corner, three particular numerals gather to discuss the impending weekend’s most important matter: The Krystal Squareoff qualifier in Memphis. The text of their conversation has been translated from its original Italian.

LII: Okay, guys. Time to draw straws. Which of us is it gonna be?

LIV: (rolling his eyes) Oh, God! Again?

LIII: Yeah, why do we have to do this anyway? Eater X already ate Krystals last week.

LIV: He pretty much qualified for the finals!

LII: Guys, we've been over this before. Eater X loves Krystals. He loves 'em even more than that brown-noser Shoudt does. (LII pauses to ponder what he just said.) Okay, maybe not as much as Shoudt does, but whatever. Eater X wants Krystals now. And he MAPQUEST-ed it, and the easiest place for him to get them, the Krystal restaurant nearest to his apartment, is in Memphis.

LIII: (irritated) Fine. Let's get it over with.

(LII removes three straws of varying lengths from his pocket and places them inside of his fist. One by one the straws are drawn and put forth on the bar for comparison.)

LIII: (seeing that he's drawn the shortest straw) Fuck! I wanted to watch football on Sunday.

LIV: (relieved and suddenly completely in favor of the draw) Hey. Fair's fair.

LII: Just go to Memphis. It'll be fine. It's not like you're missing Super Bowl LIII. You know I wouldn't do that to you.

LIII: Where's LX? Why can't he go to Memphis? He didn't go to Atlanta either.

LII: We're saving him for the finals. You know that.

LIII: Okay, fine. I'll go to Memphis, and Eater X will eat his 53. But I better not be going to Chattanooga. I've got a life, you know?

LII: I know. I know. Don't worry. We'll send someone else to the the finals. I promise.