by Mettey, Tim
“Keller!” shouted Coach Stenger. “Get out there and play middle linebacker.”
I ran onto the field. My big helmet bounced around, making it hard to always see. I had no idea where I was supposed to stand to play middle linebacker. After three years of football, I still had very little knowledge of the game. I stood in the center and waited, hoping I was close to the right spot.
“Hut, hut, set, hike,” the varsity quarterback yelled. He dropped back and disappeared behind the enormous wall of guys protecting him. Then, out of nowhere, I was hit in the head and knocked to the ground. My helmet popped off immediately. Several hands helped me up; one handed me my helmet.
One guy said, “Don’t worry about that. They’ve been doing that to us for the last twenty minutes.” I looked over at the varsity players.
“Man, I didn’t see him until I was running over him. They suck!” I recognized who was speaking. It was the tall blond from the Cougar Football billboards. He had his helmet off, showing them how he had knocked me to the ground and using his own helmet to show how mine came off. They were all laughing with him, at me. My body started to become tense; my muscles started to seize. I could feel my muscles pushing and pulling against each other, and then acid erupted in my stomach, sending an intense bitter taste to the back of my throat. My lungs seized and I coughed, gasping for air.
“Okay, let’s do it again!” a coach yelled.
Instead of getting sick from the taste, it made me even angrier than I already was. Somewhere in my stomach was a burning sensation, a fire of sorts. It was like nothing I had ever experienced. My heart was pounding so loudly I could barely hear anything around me. Thump, thump, thump. I became very focused. The new sensation in me stopped. Now, all I wanted to do was go after that billboard boy and hurt him for embarrassing me like that.
“Set, fox, 18, set, hike,” he yelled and then disappeared again. My muscles tightened so hard, they felt like they were going to pull away from my bones. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was there, right in front of me. I saw a small opening between two of his bodyguards.
I lunged through the hole with such quickness that neither of them moved. He was in my sight. I was moving so fast that he didn’t have time to react. I hit him with all of my strength, drove him to the ground, and ran back to where we huddled up before the play. Green jerseys swarmed all over me, jumping up and down, yelling.
“Varsity on the line. You owe me two suicides for that hit Oliver took,” Coach Miller yelled.
I jogged over with the rest of the JV squad. Everyone was hitting me on the helmet saying, “Good job! Nice hit!” Coach Stenger gave me a high five. The other coach walked over to us.
“Well, I’m glad Joy called me yesterday, Keller. Great hit. Okay men, good job! Take a knee and watch varsity run; then hit the showers. Good practice.”
The bitter taste of acid still lingered and my muscles ached.
We watched varsity run their suicides. When they were finished, we all headed toward the lockers. I jogged over to the white trailer to take off my equipment.
I was so tired that it was hard to take off the oversized equipment. I pulled my shoulder pads and jersey off at the same time. There standing in front of me, blocking out the sun, was a winded Oliver. I felt like I was in Jack and the Beanstalk, and I was Jack staring up at the giant.
“Next time,” he poked me, “it won’t be that easy, JV runt.” He pushed past me, and the newfound fire inside me burned red-hot.
SPECTATORS
CHAPTER SIX
“Keller, nice tackle,” Coach Hoff yelled from the sideline. They must have seen something in me they liked because I made the JV team after only one day of tryouts. Eric says it’s because I flattened Oliver. It must have been, because running the sideline during tryouts wouldn’t impress anyone. Eric also made the team but swears his dad paid Coach Hoff.
“Set, hut, hut, hike,” Eric yelled from across the line of guys. Eric got the ball and dropped back to throw it. I ran through the JV guys like they were stuck in mud and hit Eric square in the numbers before he could do anything. The ball went flying out of his arms and he hit the dry, hard field with a thud.
“I don’t care how much my dad paid Coach Hoff; he should have cut me because getting hit by you in every practice sucks.” Eric was slow to get up. I helped him the rest of the way up.
“Good job, men. Hit the showers,” Coach Hoff yelled. I had been getting a lot more playing time over the last couple of weeks. I still had no idea what all of the plays were or where to stand on the field, but they kept putting me out there. For the last three years of football, I had never stepped onto the field to do anything other than drills, but now I was part of the team. I had changed—well, not physically, but on the inside. When Oliver laughed at me, it did something to me. It took everything in me to control it at times, especially during practice.
We jogged to the locker rooms. We were on Practice Field Two. It was a lot smaller than Practice Field One, which was the field that varsity used for practice. It wasn’t dry like ours was. Their practice field was watered daily, and the lush green grass was nicely groomed with fresh lines painted on it every morning. Every day we had to jog by it to get back to the lockers to change. The three bleachers along the varsity practice field were always filled. It was unbelievable that people would show up on these hot days to watch a football practice—not even a game, a practice. I was on the team, and I wished that I didn’t have to be out in the sun, in the scorching August heat. People took pictures, and there was always at least one news crew filming the practice. Wow, this town needed to get a life. We had just jogged past the bleachers when Coach Miller called me over. Eric was next to me and pushed me in the direction of Coach Miller. “You are busted, Keller,” he said, running on.
Coach Miller was an imposing figure. For a man in his sixties, he looked like he could play pro football. He was watching the varsity team practice. I jogged up next to him.
“We’ve been watching you and we like what we see. For the next scrimmage against Moeller, we want you to play with varsity.” I was stunned. “How does that sound to you?”
“G-G-Great, Coach! Thanks!” I said, almost bursting with excitement.
“And, Keller, don’t let me down.” He looked into my eyes.
“I won’t, Coach.”
Suddenly, I heard a loud metallic crack and spun around. One of the large light towers used by the TV stations was falling out of the bleachers and heading right for us. I pushed Coach Miller out of the way as it crashed and sent pieces of glass and metal everywhere.
“What are you trying to do, kill us?” Coach Miller yelled into the stands. “I am going to ban whoever is responsible for this.”
Several news crew members scurried out of the stands. Through the bleachers and the smashed light tower, I saw the same sea green truck that I had seen at the rest stop. I moved to see it better, but it sped away.
“You okay, Keller?”
“I’m fine, Coach.”
“Okay then, go get cleaned up while I deal with these hooligans.”
I sprinted back to get changed. I couldn’t believe I was almost killed. But, at least I was going to break my three-years-of-not-playing streak, and I was going to do it playing with varsity. JV hadn’t had a scrimmage yet. Their first one was the same day as varsity’s scrimmage. I was looking forward to playing with JV, but the chance to play with varsity was a dream come true.
When I got off the bus, I ran the ten-minute walk to my house. I was so excited to tell Cora the incredible news. I bounded up the walkway and through the front door, slamming it with a loud thud. Cora came running down the stairs.
“Is everything okay? Nicholas, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter. Everything is great. I think I might actually play in the next scrimmage!”
“That’s wonderful!” Cora was excited too, because for the last three years she had sat in the stands waiting for something to cheer ab
out. Now she would get her chance. “That is great news!”
“Well, it’s just a scrimmage, but I have to start somewhere.”
“Nicholas, I am so proud of you.”
“Wait, the best part is Coach Miller, you know, the varsity coach, told me he wants me to scrimmage with them!”
Cora’s face turned to stone. The air in the room felt like it was sucked out. All of the excitement was gone.
“How can you go from not playing the last three years, to playing with varsity this year? You’re just a tenth grader. Is the team really that bad?”
“Gee, thanks! What happened to the excitement?”
She took a deep breath. “No, it has nothing to do with you. I mean, you have never played in a game before at the smaller schools, and now they want you to play varsity for a school that is known for its football team. There will be,” she paused and took another deep breath, “a lot of people watching you.”
“I finally feel like I fit in somewhere,” I said, “and this is how you congratulate me. First you tell me that it would be impossible to make the team, and now that I’ve made the team and will actually play, you’re not even happy.”
Cora didn’t say anything. She walked into the living room and sat on the couch. She crossed her arms and stared out the front window. Her legs were bouncing around more than her usual nervous twitch.
After a minute, she spoke in a very calm voice. “Nicholas, I’m sorry for how I acted. I am so proud of you—you know that! We will make this work somehow. I can’t wait to cheer for you during the game.” She got up and walked over to me. I was still standing in the hall rooted to the ground. She gave me a big hug and walked into the kitchen.
I wasn’t buying the “I’m proud of you” routine. Why was she acting this way? She was so happy at first, but as soon as I mentioned varsity, everything changed. But why? I knew there would be more people watching, but there would be people watching the JV scrimmage, too.
I retreated to my room after a long, hot shower to escape Cora. She was busy cleaning the already clean house, and from the smell of it, she was cooking an “I’m sorry” dinner. I couldn’t stop being angry at her. Nothing I tried to do or think of made me feel any better. I just wanted to be mad. The fire in me was feeding off my anger. I turned on some Simon and Garfunkel. It was my mom’s favorite. She would listen to them when she wanted to relax, and I needed to relax. My stomach muscles were in knots from being angry.
The pitter-patter of rain against the window took me by surprise. It was the first time it had rained since we moved. The rain would help the brown, withered plants get back some of their life. Hopefully, it would do the same for me. There were several claps of thunder off in the distance, and the rain intensified. I turned my music off so I could listen to the storm. When we lived in Oklahoma there were storms every night during the summer. They would put me to sleep.
I turned off my desk lamp, which was in front of my window, so I could see the lightning better. The thick, swirling black clouds that reached up to heaven rolled toward our house. It was getting darker outside. The storm rolled over the top of our house. The black clouds swirled around in the sky until it became pitch black. It was as dark as a starless night, and it was only 6:00 p.m.
The lightning lit up our small backyard and the woods lining it like fireworks on the Fourth of July. I noticed there was something just beyond the tree line. Another flash of light illuminated the tree line again, exposing two silhouettes. There were two people standing down in the trees. I knew somehow that these people, these spectators, were watching me. I didn’t know how or why I knew this.
My heart began to race. I wasn’t scared, but my body was reacting to the sight of them. A crooked, long bolt of lightning came racing out of the sky toward the two. Right as the lightning approached them, everything slowed down before me. It was like watching a movie in slow motion. I could see the lightning make its way slowly toward the ground with all of its jagged edges shooting off in different directions. The two disappeared back into the woods right as the lightning struck a tree near where they had been standing, shattering the tree, leaving only charred remains. I wanted to race into the woods after them to see who they were. But, my curiosity would have to wait because I had developed a sudden painful headache that made me dizzy. I crawled into bed to relax and recover, listening to the storm, wondering who they were. My head pounded.
ANGEL
CHAPTER SEVEN
The day of the scrimmage had arrived. I hurried and ate my lunch, which was of five-star restaurant quality.
“My scrimmage is at 1:00 p.m. at the high school,” I reminded Cora, who was sitting with me at the table.
“I know. I’ll be there,” she said, not looking away from her newspaper propped up in front of her.
“I just want to make sure that you don’t go to Moeller, because that’s where JV is playing.”
“I am well aware of where you are playing today.” I could tell that Cora was still unhappy, but I wasn’t going to worry about her because today was the day that I had been waiting for my whole life; I get to play in a football game just like my dad. He would have been so proud. His son was playing varsity.
“How are you getting to school?” Cora’s voice interrupted my daydream.
“Eric is picking me up,” I told her.
“Isn’t he on the JV squad?”
“Yes, but he has to take the bus to Moeller from the high school.”
“No, I meant is he old enough to have his license?”
“Yes, his birthday was in June.”
Cora went on reading, seeming to be content with Eric taking me to football. “So where are you meeting him?”
Two loud thuds came from the front door. I had told him where we lived. I had forgotten another one of our rules: never tell anyone where we live. I jumped up quickly to get out the door before I was scolded.
“Before you go, finish your juice. It’s hand-squeezed,” Cora said to me, pointing at the cup of juice. I drank it and quickly ran to the door.
“Nicholas, please do not tell anyone else where we live, and no more breaking the rules. Do I make myself clear?”
“I won’t. I’m sorry.”
“You better not or we will move. We can’t take any more risks.”
“Okay. See ya, Cor—Mom!” I shouted as I opened the door.
“Let’s go, Keller. I don’t want to be late.” Eric had on his green JV game jersey. I was wearing the gold game jersey that Coach Miller gave me.
“Nice jersey. I can’t believe you are playing with varsity. Well, I better get the big star to his debut.”
I opened the door to his old black VW Beetle, which was in mint condition. “I don’t think I’m actually going to play. I’m probably a backup just in case someone gets hurt.”
Eric smiled and turned up his car stereo. A new song came on the radio. “Keller is going to be a varsity rock star,” he sang, replacing the words with his own. It would have been annoying, but Eric was funny.
I got dressed in the pitiful JV locker room down the hall from the varsity locker room. It was weird being the only one in a gold jersey in a sea of green. Eric wouldn’t stop talking about me playing varsity.
“Dude, you are so lucky to be playing with varsity, and to think you are only a sophomore. No sophomore or freshman has ever played on varsity, not even Oliver. When Coach Miller started coaching he made the rule that no underclassman would play on varsity no matter what. It is going to piss off Oliver to see you playing varsity, which is awesome. You nailed him during tryouts, and now you are up on varsity. This can’t get any better. The only thing that would be better is if I could see his face when you walk into their locker room.”
I had noticed how much Eric liked to hear himself talk. I don’t think he needed to actually have anyone around him to talk, but unfortunately he had half of the locker room listening to his every word.
“Listen, it’s just a scrimmage,” I said, hoping to sh
ut him up. Was Eric right? Was I really the first underclassman to play varsity? No way! There had to have been someone else.
Coach Hoff walked into the locker room wearing his typical short grey coaching shorts and his green polo shirt with clipboard in hand. “Let’s go, team, out to the bus. We leave in five.”
Everyone stood up and filed out. Eric was the last one through the doors and yelled back to me, “Hit some Moeller varsity chumps for me, Keller! See ya, star!”
I got up and headed toward the varsity locker room down the hallway. Coach Miller was standing outside of the locker room. He looked at me walking slowly.
“Keller, if you don’t hurry up, I am going to send your butt back to JV.” I jogged to where he was standing and walked through the double doors.
The entire team was sitting in plush green and gold chairs, watching one of the coaches drawing up plays on the chalkboard in the front. I walked along the wall to the back of the room. All eyes were on me. I searched for an empty chair in the back. Oliver didn’t look away until I was in the back and sat down. No one could stare at me all the way in the back, not even Oliver.
Looking around I realized that I had never been in the varsity locker room before. It was incredible. The school colors, green and gold, were everywhere. Each of the varsity players had his own polished green locker with his name engraved on a gold plaque above it. The lockers were big. I could stand in one easily with room to spare. The JV lockers were each the size of a small bread box. I could barely fit my clothes into them.
Instead of benches, each locker had its own green and gold chair. Throughout the locker room there were big flat screen TVs. I couldn’t believe that this was a high school locker room; it had to be a pro-football team locker room. The JV locker room looked like a janitor’s closet compared to this mecca of football. Now I knew why Eric couldn’t stop talking about me playing with varsity.
