History of the Trap: September Rains Part 5

5

"What is the temperature, anyways?" asked Christian Drielin, our new camera assistant, replacing Randy Fitch, who had died in the tunnels, along with Ronald Housely, announcer/reporter. 

"It's 70," I answered.  "About the same thing it always is."

Christian seemed surprised at my weather telling prowess.  He was a skinny fellow, with a long neck and close set eyes.  He had a sharp nose, and thin set lips, but he was friendly enough, if not exceptionally bright.  "Wow!  How could you tell that?"

"You mean besides it almost always being 70 degrees?  I saw the temperature gauge on the side of the refreshment stand."  I pointed over to where the stadium refreshment and ticket building was. 

Stadium was kind of a misnomer.  There were just two sets of bleachers, one on each side of the football field.  The ones on the home side were built larger and studier, with a press box built at the top.  The tough call was going to be as to what side fans of the particular teams, Granite's or Deneau's, got to sit on.  My Dad favored first come, first serve.  Others wanted a coin toss, or even a vote.  No formal decision has been made as of yet.

Christian and I were out at the side of the football field as part of the Lookout TV's coverage of the football practices.  Christian and I were the B team, catching what additional interviews or coverage we could that was missed by the A team, consisting of popular on-air talent Bob Short and his cameraman, Phil Irman.  They had the one good hand held camera, and were actually on the sidelines in the middle of the players and coaches.  Our camera was an inexpensive home movie camera that was found in the office of Mr. Crowler, the assistant principal who had committed suicide last month. 

I could see Bob interviewing Coach Walterzak, who was trying to assist with both sides.  Their conversation was animated and punctuated with laughter. 

No one was near Christian or me.  We were near the end zone closest to the school. I directed him to take footage of the players as they scrimmaged to that end of the field.  I saw the cheerleaders practicing close by.  They had divided themselves into two squads, Annie Peppers leading the squad for David Deneau's team, and Morgan LeDona Tigh leading for her boyfriend's team.  I should try to talk to them, get an interview as to how they split up the squads, and how they feel about the big game.  I should, but even with the prospect of me helping them be on television, I still didn't have the self confidence to approach them.  Mr. Resert, our broadcast teacher, might have been better off bringing Franny Cranfield out here.  She could do a better job than I could.  But I think Mr. Resart was still too chauvinistic to consider that.

Just when I thought all I was going to get was footage of players and cheerleaders running around, I saw Robert Pelley, in full uniform, come towards us.  He was already tall, but the padding just took him to supernatural heights.  "Well, looky there!  If it ain't Marty Martian, pretending to be a sports reporter!  And if ain't Christian Dry Lips on the toy camera!  Boy, with Housely gone, the station sure as gone down hill fast!"

My heart raced.  "Do you want to be interviewed or not?"  Get him on camera; maybe he would take the time to be a little more civil.  Or at least, if he was nasty, more of the school could see him for the bullying idiot he was.

"Oh, sure!  Why the hell not?  I could use some laughs!"

Mr. Eurich came by, overhearing Robert's antagonistic behavior.  Mr. Eurich, not normally a football coaching assistant, was nevertheless volunteering to help with this.  He must know that the game could be important to our morale, and it had to be a distraction from constantly thinking about the family he missed.  He was one of my favorite teachers, actually teaching history as if he were interested in it, a refreshing change from some of the others who just slapped up chapter assignments on the board, and spent the rest of the class time discussing and designing sports plays.  "Mr. Pelley!  If you want to be interviewed, I expect you to be polite and positive.  You are representing your team and your school!"

Robert Pelley gave a sneer that only I could see.  "Sure, Mr. Eurich.  You bet I will.  Now, what you got to ask me....Mr. Martin."

Christian started the camera, and I held the microphone so I could ask the first question.  "I am here with Robert Pelly, a starter on Mark Granite's team.  What position is it that you play, Robert?"

Robert looked puzzled.  Didn't he already know?  Who didn't know?  Then he remembered it was an interview for the whole school.  "I'm an offensive tackle.  My job is to protect the quarterback, Mark Granite, and make sure they get taken out before they take out him."

"Fascinating," I said, in a voice that conveyed anything but fascination.  "I heard there was a team meeting this morning to pick out a nickname for the team.  Any news in that regard?"  I had a few choice names for any team that would take Pelley, but none of them would make a good impression on you, Doctor Duncan, if I repeated them.

"Yeah, we're the Thunder.  And that other team is the Lightning.  And everybody knows that thunder comes before lightning."  I wasn't sure that was true, but I didn't want to interrupt him. "And both of them come before....."  He stopped, a look of surprise disgust crossing his face.  He put his hand to his cheek and acted he was wiping off something horrible.  "Did...did you just spit at me?"

"N-no, of course not!" I answered, genuinely surprised at what he though had happened.  Then I felt a large drop hit my hand, where I was holding the microphone.

"Get under shelter, you two!  Right away!  Before your equipment's ruined,' Mr. Eurich exclaimed.

And just as we got under the shelter of the refreshment stand, the skies opened up. 

There was no thunder.

There was no lightning.

Just rain.  Cool, refreshing rain.