3
In order to pull
us out of our awful depression following the tunnel collapse and the doldrums
of August, my Dad gave in to those who wanted to bring back a sport that, as
lousy as we were at it, was a central unifying identifier of our school, as it
was for many American high schools. And
that was football,
At first, my Dad
was resistant. He thought the risk of
injury was too great, and our medical staff would have difficulty handling
traumatic injuries. It was going to be
hard enough to explain to parents, when the trap finally lifted, what happened
to their child, but to have to state, rather than an accident or assisting us
in trying to get out, that it was just a football mishap, was a little too much
to bear.
Nevertheless, he
saw that our emotional well-being as a group was declining rapidly, and
something dramatic was needed to pull us out of the doldrums. We had several other sports going, including
basketball, track and field, volleyball, softball and even archery, but nothing
stirred a high schooler's soul like football.
Well, not me so much, but I hardly was representative of the
predilections of my peers.
Tonight was going
to be the big draft night, all of us in the gym to observe the great selection
process. Two teams would be chosen by
their team captains, filled out from those who played and volunteers. We had some fifty uniforms, and the plan was
to have rosters of at least twenty-five players each.
One of the team
captains was Mark Granite, only a marginal football player, but with his State
Champion status in track, he was our most popular athlete. The other was selected by David Deneau, the
senior star center who was our only All-Conference player. He was also the detective in the soap I
wrote, The Sands of Loren, and an All-A student. In many ways, he was the best of us. If I did play football, no offense to Mark
Granite, but I would definitely want to be on David's team, and I think I would
give my all for him. He was just that
kind of guy.
Jim Kurrash would
have loved this, had he not lost his life in the tunnel collapse. Jack Kessler might have participated, had he
not been attacking me in the gym. I
probably should feel guilty about that, except that it was the earthquake
caused by the underground explosion that led to his fall. And after all, he was trying to kill me.
Delbert
Bartkowski, the big defensive tackle that I had not seen much of since the
first day the trap fell, when he defiantly dashed out of Mr. Eurich's room,
went early, one of Mark Granite's first picks.
David Deneau used his first pick to select the school starting
quarterback, Gavin McDowall. Gavin was
popular in the school, as any quarterback would be, but he was not the greatest
shining light in the league. But he was
the best our school had to offer, and David, as the team center, was familiar
with him. The two in tandem could be
formidable, especially when all the team players were just being drawn from
Loren.
Mark did not draft
a quarterback, because, as we soon found out, he planned on taking on that
position himself. Well, at least he
would be quick. We had no idea how well
he could throw the ball, but maybe he didn't need to. He was selecting a lot of beefy guys,
emphasizing quarterback protection. Mark
picked Wilbur Jones, our best offensive
tackle. Wilbur had a lot of respect for
David, and would have probably preferred to be with him, but that is not the
way the draft fell, and Wilbur was nothing if not a team player.
There were some
chosen that had not played a lot of football, but had volunteered to be
chosen. Mark picked some of the rougher
characters, not the least of which was Robert Pelley, the tall thug who had
threatened Lisa. David picked some of
the marginalized students, including some minorities, such as Reggie Hamilton,
a black sophomore from a poor area of town.
He also selected George Jimenez, a Hispanic junior. Mark's team, on the other hand, was all white. This was not completely surprising, as the
school was virtually all white, with only a few dozen minority students.
When the teams
were chosen, they gathered together at the gym's center court. The audience burst into wild applause and
cheers. Once again, it had the opposite
effect on me, as cheering crowds unnerved me.
It might have been the fear of losing one's own identity to the mob, or
maybe I just hated loud noises. Either
way, my heart was racing. I looked over
at Artie, who was sitting near me, and I could sense that he felt the same
unease.
A few rows down
and to my left, Lisa sat with some of Morgan's friends. During the tumultuous cheering, I saw her
look back up at me. Was that longing and
regret I detected in her? When she saw
that I was staring back, she broke it off and looked back to the parade of
football beef at center court.
Morgan and the other cheerleaders divided up
and started chants, Morgan leading with "Go, Mark's Raiders! Go, Mark's Raiders!" And Annie Pepper leading a similar cheer for
David, "Go, David's Lions! Go,
David's Lions!" How and when those
names were picked, I do not know.
As things started
to calm down, Robert Pelley snatched the microphone from Coach Walterzak. "Hey, you guys! Don't ya know, no team is complete without
mascots! So how about a big round of
applause for our mascot, Marty Martian!"
He extended his hand out to where I was sitting, and I could feel close
to a thousand pairs of eyes focused in on me.
I had no idea this was going to happen, and I highly doubted that this
was a planned part of it. This was a
special public humiliation aimed at me.
But not just at
me. Robert Pelley continued on. "And if we got Marty for the Raiders,
than who better for the Lions than......Farty Artie!" The place exploded in laughter. The normally reserved Arties turned red. I had not seen him that disturbed
before. But even now, it was just the
color of his skin and the fierceness in his eyes that changed.
But that flash
only lasted a second. Soon Artie had
righted himself. He got up and spoke in a loud, clear voice, "Are you
sure, Bobby? What about you? Seems like you could be a great animal
mascot! Why, you're certainly making a
big jackass out of yourself!"
The place exploded
in laughter. Now it was Robert's turn to
change color. From somewhere the chant
was started, "Marty and Farty!
Marty and Farty!"
Not to be outdone,
Artie started a countervailing chant, "Hee Haw! Hee Haw!" And it was so thundering from both sides, it
was hard to tell what chant was winning.
My Dad came up and
took the mike from Robert Pelley.
"Felloe Lookouts, I give you the Raiders and the Lions! Let's hear it for both of these great
teams!" He motioned the band and
they came out loud with the school's theme song, getting everyone to sing.
The situation
almost got out of control, but my Dad stepped in and did the right things to
get us back on course. I was relieved,
but I wondered. How long could he keep
doing that?
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