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.
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