1

"You’re always talking back to me; you won't let it be."

                                   -Travis Meeks

 

            It happens like clockwork. The small towns light up and they can be seen from miles away. This is commonplace on Friday nights during the wane of the year in any rural hamlet. The crowds are loud, the stands are packed, the colors are shining, and the lights are bright. For five precious hours during the week, these hamlets put their collective lives on hold to watch as their hometown sons take on some other displaced hometown sons for a chance at gridiron fame and glory. On this night, twenty-some teen males and over three hundred-some townspeople watch as their senior field commander and his ten troops of assorted class rank march on toward the opposing goal line. They are down and almost out. This is the time and place the scene is set.

            The young man stared on from the sideline as the event unfolded. The backup wide receiver had been slammed from two different directions by two defensemen from the opposing team and the event left him horribly injured.  So injured was he that the paramedics had to be called in for assistance. After that, the coach came back to the sidelines to make a fateful decision, not out of preference but more from desperation. He stared with deep penetration at a certain young man.

            "Dawson, get in there and don’t look back! Just play your a*s off!" the coach yelled with anxious fury.

            Kyle Dawson did as he was instructed. It was the third game of the year and he finally got sometime deserved playing time he so yearned for. He sprinted into the huddle and ten pairs of eyes stared at him, some with outright contempt, some with complete coldness, some with utter trepidation.

            "The play is I-right 56 on two. That means you, dickmunch." The queue-bee made known with unfettered hostility.

            "I got it, Weezer. I can play the game." Kyle replied like nagged husband would.

            The eleven broke the huddle and scampered for the line of scrimmage. The young wideout took the correct place on the right side of the line. 

            "Hut one, hut two!" Weezer hollered loudly.

            Kyle immediately took off and ran a fifteen yard left hook pattern straight into the endzone. Weezer faded back five yards and launched the pigskin twenty yards as a linebacker the size of a Mack truck drew closer, rather hell-bent, in his direction.  Kyle hopped into the air as two opposing defenders grabbed onto him. The ball came into his hand and he clutched it into his chest like a newborn baby falling high from a stork’s satchel. All three boys crash-landed hard on the ground and the referees scurried over to make the official call. The umpire cleared the milieu and saw that the sophomore wide receiver was on top of the ball. He blew the whistle and motioned touchdown. The entire home crowd rejoiced as the youngster got up and threw the ball to the umpire. Kyle rejoined his team and they gave him scant kudos as Weezer came back to the huddle with the play from the coach.

            "Short bomb on three, so don't f*****g jump!" Weezer ordered as he grabbed Kyle's facemask. "Catch it and we win, dickmunch! You miss this, expect no remorse!"

            "Whatever, Weezer…let's just play!" The sophomore answered. Weezer pushed him back into the congregation of ten rough-and-readies.

            The boys went back to the line and Weezer took his place behind the center. Kyle lined up on the right side as before. 

            "Hut one, hut two, hut three!" Weezer yelled.

            Mass motion ensued and it was mass chaos in a very finite space.  Kyle ran straight forward, made a jumping half-turn and saw the ball sailing his way. Kyle had jumped up into double coverage involving the same defenders that took the other wideout out of the game. Kyle clutched the ball tightly with all he had to offer, despite the double coverage, and fell to his feet. Both guys hit Kyle hard after he landed. All of the officials blew their whistles and signaled the two-point play was good. It was by one point did the home team seal their victory to remain undefeated for the current season. The clock wound down to zero and the home crowd cheered as if the home team had won a playoff game for the first time in two decades. The two defenders got off Kyle and they helped the young man to his feet. They shook hands and gathered with their respective teams.

 

            It was after the ritualistic trading of handshakes that the home team ran for the locker room and during that run, ecstasy was the emotion within Kyle's soul.  As he hurried, he scanned the crowd and a sight before made the Earth's rotation decelerate for a bit. He saw the face of a female that could do such a thing. He slowed himself down wanting to know who the alluring beauty was. They both had their eyes on one another for what seemed to be an indeterminate length of time, but it was only fleeting.

            "Get moving, jerk-off! I don't want your sorry a*s in my way!" screamed a troubled voice in his ear.

            Kyle came out of the daze and looked to his left. Trevor McHahn, the kicker on the varsity squad, was sneering at him derisively. Kyle darted into the school with thoughts of her, that heavenly body, still at the forefront of his mind. She appeared oddly familiar but she could have been just a happy fan for all he knew. He glared further on toward the gaggle of football players filing into the locker room. The head coach had yet to give his closing sermon.

            The team sat down anywhere there was space. Kyle tried to find a bench seat but was met with the usual tongue torture. Many stared at him with sneers, exposed jaws and furrowed brows. Kyle opted for a perch at the rear of the locker room. He had two benches between him and everyone else, which was a needed relief. The head coach stood before his players like a revered religious figure. The coach eyed his congregation and thundered away.

            "I want to say that you all played with heart out there tonight. The brains were missing at first and it made for a messy first half of football. I haven't seen a first half that bad since Coach Olerud's senior season." The coach stated as he looked as his second in command. 

            The head coach then stared back at his boys. He thundered on, "Despite that, the second half was amazing. Despite the injuries to O'Malley and Verbinski, that was an awesome comeback. You guys found your vibe, you became the underdogs and you came back as the heroes! You all have earned my respect this evening!"

            The boys cheered but the coach motioned for silence with his left hand.

            "The season isn't over yet. You have a long way to go before you can really cheer yourself on for a job well done. You have to take each day one day at a time, each game one game at a time. Tonight counts only for tonight. Tomorrow morning is when you should ready yourself for the next week. Practice hard, play hard, study hard! If you don't, then you will fall flat on your face! Nobody wants their face used a stencil for monster cookies!"

            The players laughed and the coach put his left hand up once more.

            "Simply put, nice comeback this evening! The whole team deserves credit for this victory. The real credit goes to our comeback man though, I heard his speech during halftime and I must say it worked. For being a great leader, the game ball goes to our captain, Weezer!"

            The team cheered for the team captain, for the field commander with enthusiasm and arms in the air. Everyone bowed down except for Kyle Dawson. Kyle grinded his teeth together in anger and stayed quietly seated. The team called for a speech and Weezer decided to indulge them.

            Weezer cleared his throat and made his humbly arrogant homily, "I want to say thank you to all the hard work that the team put in during the second half. The defense excelled in and out of the red zone. The offensive line did swell when it came to my defense. For scoring touchdowns and running their asses off on passes and runs, I want to thank Wings and Moby. I got to thank McHahn for kicking those extra points and that long field goal. It got to thank Sill, Tucker, Austin P, and Axel for being the iron men they always are. Extra special thanks goes to Huey and Timmy Price for being my centers. Without them, I’d be turned to lunchmeat pizza. Thanks much boys, this is for you!"

            Everybody cheered loudly except for the real hero. The coaching staff congratulated Weezer and the team and they departed from the locker room. Kyle stayed on the bench and brooded about the team's ingratitude. While he was getting his stuff, no one on the team said "Good job", "Way to go", “Nice Play”, “Nice Catch” or “Thanks for saving our sorry hides.” Nobody even looked at the youngster as he silently made his way out toward the exit.

            It was like he carried a mutated form of tuberculosis that called for high priority quarantine.          

            He breathed a sigh of relief as he moved toward the main entrance as his thoughts moved toward the face he had seen in the crowd.

            Who was the girl that had put him under such a spell?

            Had he seen her before?

            Was she a new student or not?

             His head fluttered with more than a few thousand possibilities to each query, each one as intriguing the next.

            And his queries were instantly made into moot points.

Reviews

[InkSlinger]

I think I will start calling you Sir Kenneth, the Earl of Writing! Always, your style interests me, and your character development is superb!! Another good piece!

[Nobody.]

Interesting. I like it. The whole of the chapter is different (in a good way) structurally than I'm used to. the stroyline pricks my interest. More....soon!

Cheers!

[Coyote Poetry]

A very strong opening chapter. I come back tonight and read the complete story.
Coyote

[Ronn Michael Salinas]

oh I know that song... it's got awesome acoustic guitar work, that one.

[Ronn Michael Salinas]

cool 1st chapter.

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

excellent work Ken..........I love it when you teach me new names to call people DM........he he a good one.

[joshua deathdealer]

Damn Kenneth this just as good as "Leap Day In Progress" Excellent work sir. Completely different style but just as good as far being captivating and easy on the eyes. lol.. On to the next.