1960: My uncle is the FBI Director

Chapter 266 Activities
Today is match day.

The agents did not mention the evening's activities at work.

They simply worked quietly to improve their efficiency, striving to finish their tasks before the end of the workday.

Agents hurried to and fro in the corridor, elevators went up and down constantly, and the office was quiet except for the occasional hushed discussion.

The agents on field missions drove incredibly fast, as if they wanted to arrive at their destination in a flash, just like in a science fiction story.

The entire Department of Justice building was gripped by a strange tension.

It was a little past 5 p.m.

Time to get off.

As if a pause button had been pressed, the agents paused for a moment, then continued working as if nothing had happened.

However, the occasional glances they stole towards the supervisor's office and the fact that they hadn't turned a single page of the documents in their hands for a long time all indicated that the agents' minds were no longer on their work.

The door to the personnel office of the administration department was opened first.

Manager Dawson led his team straight to the elevator.

The agents along the way cast glances at them, and some who knew them would even secretly wave to them.

The elevator arrived quickly, and Manager Dawson and his group left.

The entire fifth floor of the Department of Justice building was quiet; not even the slightest rustling sound could be heard.

The agents were so uncomfortable they were writhing around, constantly glancing at their supervisor, then at the time, and occasionally exchanging knowing glances.

I waited for about ten more minutes.

The door to the head of the investigation department's office opened, and Director Rosen, carrying a briefcase, scanned the room before waving his hand:
"What are you all doing sitting here? Waiting for me to invite you?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the entire office erupted in a commotion.

The agents sprang up from their chairs like springs, forming small groups and rushing out with their briefcases.

The corridor immediately became crowded.

Theodore and his two colleagues set off right after they finished get off work, earlier than most agents.

When they arrived at the arena, agents from the FBI's Recreation Association were already at work.

Not only that, but many other agents arrived even earlier than them.

Theodore and his two companions checked in at the entrance.

The agent in charge of registration told them that their game would take place on fairways 17 and 18, from 6:45 p.m. to 8:45 p.m.

They need to report to the referee's office before 6:40.

Before that, they can relax, spend time with their families, have a bite to eat, chat with friends, or get used to the fairway.

Upon entering the stadium, the screams and laughter of children filled the air, and the aroma of various foods permeated the entire stadium.

After changing their clothes, the three of them came out of the locker room and headed to the rest area.

All the chairs at the back of the rest area have been removed, and a row of tables has been placed against the wall.

There was a light meal provided by the FBI Recreation Association on the table, neatly arranged.

Before the light meal, there are exquisite plates, each with its own unique features, filled with a variety of dishes.

These are all foods brought by the agents' families, mainly roast chicken, pasta salad, and homemade baked cakes.

Bernie craned his neck and scanned the arena.

A short-haired little boy ran past them screaming.

Behind him, several children of similar age were chasing after him, giggling.

Bernie reached out and grabbed the little boy by the back of his collar, stopping him.

The little boy struggled a few times, first glancing back before looking up at Bernie, his voice conflicted:
"Uncle Sullivan! Let me go! They're catching up!"

Bernie asked him:

"Where's Kali (Carl Sullivan's nickname)? Didn't he come with you?"

The little boy glanced back again, shook his head, and spoke rapidly:
“Carl is with Patrick. Patrick’s mother is baking a cake and will be a little late.”

Patrick was Bernie's neighbor's child, the same age as Sullivan, and the two quickly became good friends.

Bernie let go, and the little boy took off running. However, he had already wasted too much time with Bernie, and the children chasing after him quickly surrounded him.

The little ones pushed and shoved each other, laughing and joking around.

Bernie shrugged at Theodore and Billy Hawke, picked up a plate, and scooped out a clump of noodles:
"Let's eat something first."

The noodles, brought by someone, were covered in a thick tomato sauce and small pieces of beef, with a rich aroma that whetted the appetite.

A dozen minutes later, Mrs. Sullivan arrived with little Sullivan and her daughter, Gertie.

Sullivan was wearing a short-sleeved polo shirt tucked into high-waisted shorts, long socks, and sneakers. His hair was cut short, and he was carrying a basket.

He must have been instructed by Mrs. Sullivan beforehand, for his head kept looking around, but he maintained basic restraint and did not immediately join in the games of his peers, but obediently followed behind Mrs. Sullivan.

Mrs. Sullivan greeted Theodore and Billy Hawke warmly, handed Gerty to Bernie, picked up the basket, opened it, and took out a full plate of roast meat.

Theodore tasted a piece, and it tasted just like the one he had in Felton.

Mrs. Sullivan explained that the meat had been marinated overnight and was grilled just before they set off this afternoon, using the Sullivan family's secret sauce.

Bernie explained to the two that in Texas, every household has its own secret sauce, and if someone uses store-bought sauce for their barbecue, their neighbors will look down on them.

In Texas, sauces are a matter of family pride!

Sullivan Jr. finally couldn't hold back any longer.

He moved closer to Bernie and quietly asked if he could go out with his friends.

After receiving permission, Sullivan cheered and rushed towards the little boy and his friends who had been stopped by Bernie, quickly joining them.

Shortly after Mrs. Sullivan took Gerty away, the main force arrived.

There was even a long queue at the sign-in registration desk at the entrance.

Theodore and his team soon reunited with Agent Lombardi and his two companions.

After having a quick bite to eat, they went to choose bowling balls.

Martin Joseph Cronin pulled out his rough-edged notebook and moved back and forth among the five men.

After selecting your ball, return to fairway 18.

Martin Joseph Cronin began to incessantly remind everyone to adjust the tightness of the holes.

Once everyone had adjusted, he had them try throwing the ball a few more times.

His serious attitude is no less than that of Billy Hawke and Bernie.

Agents Lombardi and Byrne wanted to chat with their colleagues, but when they looked up and saw Martin Joseph Cronin earnestly urging them to prepare for battle, they had no choice but to give up.

After a flurry of activity, Martin Joseph Cronin finally checked and confirmed that all the pre-match warm-up activities were completed. By then, it was already the eve of the match.

Family members and spectators were already seated in the rest area, with the noisy children being held back by their parents, wriggling around like caterpillars.

The agents, acting as referees, entered the venue with serious expressions, stood between the two fairways, and began counting the players.

Once everyone is confirmed to be present, a whistle will be blown, and then everyone will stand between the two teams.

Bernie must know the referee, because he quickly began to whisper with him.

On the other side, Supervisor Dawson glanced at him sideways.

The referee quickly remembered his position, coughed, put on a stern face, and ended the conversation.

Bernie looked at Supervisor Dawson and nodded in greeting.

With all participants confirmed, the FBI Entertainment Association agents briefly read out the competition rules and announced the start of the competition.

The rules for official matches are different from those used in training.

The competition uses a team-based round, rather than an individual-based round.

The round ends when the two teams take turns throwing the ball. The referee beckoned to Theodore and Supervisor Dawson, and when the two came closer, they took out a 25-cent coin and asked them to guess first.

Theodore wanted the reverse side, while Supervisor Dawson wanted the forward side.

The referee tossed the coin high into the air and almost missed catching it.

A low chuckle rippled through the crowd.

The referee blushed slightly, opened his palm, and revealed the image of George Washington.

Supervisor Dawson smiled at Theodore and gestured for him to proceed.

Theodore's team went first.

Martin Joseph Cronin clenched his fist and whispered instructions to Agent Lombardi, who was getting up to throw the ball.

Agent Lombardi looked conflicted, clearly not wanting to listen.

Fortunately, Theodore's return saved him.

Martin Joseph Cronin flipped through his rough-edged notebook and showed Theodore a set of data.

According to his statistics, the team that plays first has a 3% higher win rate than the team that plays later.

Theodore looked at him with a puzzled expression.

Martin Joseph Cronin turned and pressed down on the 15-pound ball in Agent Lombardi's hand, handing him a 16-pound one.
Agent Lombardi was furious but dared not speak out. After staring at him for a few seconds, he stood on the fairway with the ball at the umpire's urging.

Whistles and cheers rang out from behind.

Agent Lombardi took a deep breath, took a step, and after five steps, swung his arm forward in a slightly odd manner.

The bowling ball flew out of my hand, rolled along, and knocked down nine pins.

Agent Lombardi clenched his fist, turned around, and flashed a bright smile.

Theodore Bernie and the others clapped enthusiastically.

Martin Joseph Cronin looked up, paused recording, and pressed his hands down to signal them to be quiet and not disturb Agent Lombardi.

Agent Lombardi took two quick steps, the bowling ball flew out of his hand, and he easily scored the rebound.

The applause was rather enthusiastic.

Manager Dawson remained calm, got up to stretch a bit, and then also hit a stop-and-go shot.

Next up was Bernie.

The order of appearance in official matches differs from that in training.

Martin Joseph Cronin presented his statistics to argue his case, ranking Agent Lombardi, the most skilled agent, first, followed by Agents Bernie and Bourne, then Billy Hawke, and Theodore, the most consistent performer, last.

Time slowly slipped away as the bowling ball rolled along.

The atmosphere inside the venue gradually relaxed.

The adults gathered together and chatted, occasionally clapping and cheering for a good shot.

The children quietly broke free from their restraints and ran to the back to play.

After the fifth round of pitching, players switch lanes and take a break.

Theodore went to the restroom and when he returned, he found that Chief Inspector Hoover was sitting in the rest area at some point.

He looked next to Director Hoover but couldn't find Deputy Director Tolson.

This surprised him.

The agents around him sat upright, not uttering a word.

The noise inside the stadium seemed to have subsided considerably, except for the children in the back who were still chattering and screaming loudly, playing around.

Director Hoover and Theodore stared at each other for a moment, then Hoover snorted and looked away.

An FBI Entertainment Association agent came over, copied the score sheet, and then jogged over to explain the first half of the game to Director Hoover in a low voice.

Director Hoover nodded slightly, glancing up occasionally at the players' seats in response.

Theodore also turned his gaze away, sat down next to Bernie, and prepared for the game.

Bernie leaned closer, subtly pointed behind him, and whispered that he was under a lot of pressure.

Theodore turned back to look at Director Hoover, and their eyes met.

Director Hoover's expression was unfriendly, and he snorted again.

Theodore looked away blankly and shook his head.

The referee, with a stern face, blew his whistle, looking like he was saying, "Don't talk to me, I don't know you," and announced that the game would continue.

Director Hoover's arrival put considerable pressure on the agents.

Fortunately, he only focused on fairways 17 and 18, and only glanced at the other fairways occasionally.

Agent Lombardi, Agent Bourne, and the others next to them seemed to have suddenly become mute. Apart from occasionally exchanging a few whispered conversations when discussing tactics, they all sat up straight the rest of the time.

Only Martin Joseph Cronin seemed to lose interest in the players and statistics on the field, glancing at Theodore every now and then with a thoughtful expression.

Occasionally, when a detective makes a putback, applause immediately erupts behind him. However, the applause always feels very regular, quite different from that of fairways that are further apart.

Whistles and applause erupted from the other side, and laughter broke out from time to time.

This has actually sped up the game here quite a bit.

Before 8:30, the game ended with Theodore throwing the last ball, knocking down 8 pins.

A round of polite applause rang out behind me.

While the referee was still checking the scores, Martin Joseph Cronin excitedly closed his frayed notebook.

"we won!"

A few minutes later, the referee called Theodore and Dawson, the supervisor, over and announced the score:
"823:826!"

He raised Theodore's hand:

"The team from the basement level wins!"

Theodore paused, then looked toward the players' bench.

It was only then that he learned their team's official registered name.

The rest area erupted in polite applause once again.

Director Hoover checked the time, stood up, and waved to Theodore.

Theodore was confused, but he followed anyway.

The two walked one after the other until they reached the door before stopping.

Director Hoover hesitated for a moment, patted Theodore on the shoulder, sighed, and waved his hand before Theodore could speak, then walked out of the stadium.

Theodore returned to fairway 17, completely bewildered, only to find that Bernie and the others were nowhere to be found.

As the rounds ended one after another, cheers erupted throughout the venue, many times louder than before.

The atmosphere quickly reached its peak.

Shortly after nine o'clock, the referee announced the end of the match.

But the event tonight is not over yet.

Some families, like Bernie's, with young children, had to leave early, while others gathered together to talk about the game they had just played, discussing which shot was good and which shot almost went in, before heading to the dining area in small groups.

An agent in charge of logistics brought in beer, which was quickly snatched up.

With the addition of drinks, the atmosphere quickly became even more lively.

Moreover, with the children and women gone, many inconvenient topics and jokes were brought up again.

However, no one got completely drunk.

The excitement continued until after 11 p.m. before the detectives gradually left.

(End of this chapter)