Unless you've got eagle-eyes, you'll have to trust me that Jersey Cowboy was a finalist in the Carver awards.
The Jersey Cowboy aired nationally on NPR's Car Talk in April 2007.
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Here's the lyric to the companion song...
Trent galloped down the turnpike in the Olds 88
He was the quarterback for the Cowboys, Jersey state champs in ‘68
In high school he was the popular jock
Then he graduated to the union docks
He thinks he's still a big star
But his photo's fading on the wall at Tom’s bar
Chorus
He’s a Jersey Cowboy – The hero of this bridge and tunnel scene
He’s a Jersey Cowboy – Hangs his hat at exit 17
He’s a Jersey Cowboy, a Jersey Cowboy
Trent saw a friend killed on the job, no time to lend a hand
He went up to the bosses, told them things had to change, he laid down some demands
We’re short-handed and tired, we ain’t got a prayer
Jimmy Hoffa’s spirit's in despair
The union laughed in his face
They told Trent troublemakers get replaced
Chorus
He’s a Jersey Cowboy – The hero of this bridge and tunnel scene
He’s a Jersey Cowboy – Hangs his hat at exit 17
He’s a Jersey Cowboy, a Jersey Cowboy
Bridge
Trent gathered the guys on the bloodied dock
He was no longer just a washed-up jock
He led that strike, like he did the day
They beat Red Bank on the last play
Chorus
He’s a Jersey Cowboy – The hero of this bridge and tunnel scene
He’s a Jersey Cowboy – Hangs his hat at exit 17
He’s a Jersey Cowboy, a Jersey Cowboy
He hangs his hat at exit…
He hangs his hat at exit 17
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Here's the introduction to the short story...
His name is Trent Roberts, and to look at him lying in his own vomit, you would hardly believe he was one of the all-time great high school quarterbacks to come out of Morris County, New Jersey. Trent has been passed out in the alley behind Tom’s Bar and Grille since closing time. Dawn breaks and Tommy stumbles on him while taking out the trash. “Jaysus, look at you,” he says, giving Trent a shake. “And you smell like my dog’s backside as well.”
Trent stands all wobbly, as if there’s a gash between his bloodshot eyes.
“Clean yourself up,” Tommy says, handing him a rag. “You’re lucky you didn’t drown in your own spittle.”
"Yeah, right," Trent says.
“Time you got home, huh? How about a taxi?”
“How about one more drink?”
“Jaysus, we’re all busted up over Ryan’s death, but we buried him two weeks ago. It’s time to move on. You know he would have wanted it that way.”
“Just one more, then I’ll go.”
Trent follows into the kitchen. Tommy grabs a filter and fills it with coffee, then dumps water into the machine.
“This will be ready in a minute.”
“Make it an Irish," Trent says, "and I’ll be out of your hair, honest.”
“Not on your life.”
Read the rest in Carve Magazine!
Jersey Cowboy (973 KB)
