Todd Hill's friends know how theatrical he can be. They also knowhow much he loves to play games. Now that Hill's life is in danger,his friends are praying for an encore.
They want to hear his standard response to jokes that go oversomeone's head: 'You can't use 617 jokes in 508 area codes.' They arehoping that he somehow walks away from the rubble in New York,promising to give them all of the miraculous details. As grim asthings now appear to be, they almost expect Hill to call at anymoment.
'I know it's a cliche, but if anyone can make it out of somethinglike this, it's Hill,' Joe Chernov, Hill's roommate of nine years,said yesterday. 'If it was me, people would know I'm a goner. But notHill. One of our friends said it best, `Hill lives his life as ifthere's a trap door in every room.' That fits him perfectly. He's thetype of guy who can negotiate with falling rocks.'
Hill and Chernov are not famous athletes. They are sports fans whonever saw a day like yesterday coming. They used to spend Sundaysplaying John Madden video games and watching the NFL on twotelevisions in their South End apartment. But yesterday, the day thatall sports stood still, Chernov found himself sitting in theFrancesca's Cafe on Tremont Street, sipping iced coffee. He waswishing for games, wishing for something that temporarily would takehis mind off the quandary - at least - facing the 34-year-oldsalesman he simply refers to as Hill.
Hill was last heard from on Tuesday morning. He took a businesstrip to New York and stayed at the Marriott World Trade Center. Hewas on the 17th floor of the hotel when the first of the Twin Towerswas struck at about 8:45 a.m. He sent an e-mail to Boston at 9:49,telling a friend that he was waiting to be evacuated from hisbuilding. He logged off his computer at 9:52. About eight minuteslater, the World Trade Center collapsed.
Was Hill, a notorious free spirit, able to realize what danger hewas in and make it out of the hotel in time? That's what his friendsare hoping. They have seen him get in and out of some remarkablesituations, and that's what inspires them now.
This is the same Hill who once went up to Matt Lawton, then anoutfielder with the Minnesota Twins, thinking he was Red Soxoutfielder Troy O'Leary. Lawton corrected him and, eventually, he wasshowing Lawton around Boston.
This is the same Hill who won a trip to Cabo San Lucas forexceeding his sales quota. He went marlin fishing on the trip,although he never had been fishing in his life. While everyone elsecame up empty, he didn't.
This is the same Hill who once went out to a club with a friendand convinced everyone that he was a sports agent and that his friendwas an up-and-coming superstar.
'He lives his life with an absence of caution,' Chernov said witha smile. 'He doesn't take much of anything seriously.' Chernov, whoheads a public relations firm called Upper Right PR, paused. 'I don'teven know what verb tense I should be using. I'm hoping for the best;I'm not going to use the `d' word.'
The 'd' word doesn't fit a Boston sports fan who has so muchverve. Hill used to tell his friends that he would 'single-handedly'run Red Sox general manager Dan Duquette out of town. He is a bigJimy Williams and UMass basketball fan. He once called the Globe andcomplained that the sports section seemed to be pro-Boston Collegeand anti-UMass.
Chernov said he and Hill have had no major arguments - 'and acouple disagreements' - in nine years. They both love sports, theyboth like to laugh, and they are both used to bill collectors callingthem because they pay so late. With no games yesterday, Chernov wasentertained with the thought of Hill coming into the apartment,frantic about the boot on his car.
'He's so dramatic,' Chernov said. 'He never pays his tickets. Andhe always wants to use my credit card.
'He's a great guy. You've got to meet him.'
Since Hill has been gone, there have been no games on TV in theapartment. The phone rings often, with friends and family hoping tohear some good news about a good sports fan. Chernov was looking atpictures yesterday, pictures that remind him of good times. In one,Hill had a big smile at a friend's wedding. In another, he washolding a pair of sunglasses, still looking relaxed, still smiling.
'When Duquette leaves town, I'm going to miss Hill like crazy,'Chernov said. 'We always talk about stuff like that. Terry Glenn wasreinstated. He still doesn't know that, either.'
Or maybe he does. Friends are hoping he comes back from New Yorkand tells them his best story yet.
