Initiation

by Phil M. Williams

  “This is the last thing I need,” Carter said.

  “He had to get that suit at Big and Tall,” Sarah said.

  The humongous man made a beeline for Carter and Sarah, with Zach loping behind like a tired dog on a leash.

  “Carter Lynch,” the man said with certainty.

  “Yes,” Carter said.

  “I’m Mr. Goodman. My son has something to say to you.”

  Zach shuffled forward his head down. If he weren’t six-foot-five, it would be hard to be intimidated by his chubby cheeks.

  Zach stared at the dirt. “I’m sorry about what I did –”

  “Look at him,” his dad said.

  Zach raised his head. “I’m sorry about what I did to you. It will never happen again.” Zach extended his massive meat hook.

  Carter shook his hand. Zach’s grip was light.

  “Carter’s jacket was ripped,” Sarah said.

  The three men looked at Sarah.

  “Excuse me?” Mr. Goodman said.

  “When Carter was attacked by your son and his many friends, his jacket was ripped. Now the only jacket he has is this old army jacket. Not very warm for someone who has to work outside in the cold.”

  “Sarah,” Carter said.

  “He was wearing that old jacket,” Zach said. “We didn’t rip –”

  “Shut up,” his dad said, pulling out his wallet. He opened the billfold and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. “Will this cover your jacket?”

  “It was six on one,” Sarah added. “You’re lucky there’s not a civil suit … yet.”

  Mr. Goodman’s face was red, the large vein in his neck throbbing. He flipped out a few more hundred dollar bills and handed the cash to Carter.

  Carter stifled a grin and shoved the bills into the front pocket of his jeans. The hefty men turned and marched back to the Mercedes. Sarah giggled.

  Carter shook his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

  She smiled, purposely showing all her white teeth. “I told you Mrs. Wheeler would set them straight.”

  “But they get scholarships. They’ll move on as if nothing happened.”

  “Zach got a scholarship?”

  “He committed yesterday. I saw it in the gazette. Justin too. They’re going to Virginia Tech.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sarah said.

  He straightened a Douglas fir. “It doesn’t matter.” He hiked to the back of the lot, Sarah following close behind, her cup in hand.

  “Maybe after Christmas we could go get you a good work jacket. We could probably find a good after-Christmas sale. I doubt you want to shovel snow in that old thing.”

  “Okay,” he said, hoisting a tree onto his shoulder.

  He lumbered to the front, setting the tree in an open spot.

  “I’m working on an article,” she said after a moment. “I’m going to try to get it published.”

  “Oh yeah?” he said, adjusting the tree. “What’s it about?”

  “The North Potomac football team, the hazing, Ben … you.”

  He turned to Sarah, looking her in the eyes. “Well if anyone could write it, you’d be the one.”

  “Could I interview you and use your name?”

  “Sure, it’s not like they can throw me off the football team.”

  She reached into her pink satchel, pulled out two folded pieces of paper and unfolded them. “Could you sign this release form?”

  He laughed. “Seriously?”

  “If I submit the article to The Post without release forms, they’ll never run it.” She handed him the papers with a pen.

  “The Washington Post?”

  “I know it’s crazy. But even if they don’t run it, I want to do the story, just so there’s a record of what happened.

  He nodded and signed the release, using his palm as a makeshift table.

  “The other one is for your mom. Can you get her to sign that one?”

  * * *

  Carter pulled his cap over his head and buttoned his wool coat. He opened the front door of the townhouse, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. The early morning sun and a blast of cold air invigorated him. He stepped out onto the stoop and descended the stairs. A handsome man in a suit and an overcoat hurried toward him. He had a newspaper wedged in the crook of his arm.

  “Carter Lynch,” he said.

  Carter stopped. “Yeah?”

  The man held out a white business card. “I’m Scott Gilbert from ESPN.”

  He took the card, scanning the information.

  “I was hoping I could interview you about the article in The Washington Post.”

  Carter raised his eyebrows, his eyes wide. “They ran it?”

  “You haven’t seen it?”

  Carter shook his head.

  “Have mine,” Scott said, handing him the newspaper.

  “Thanks,” Carter replied, taking it.

  “I was hoping to get an interview with you. At ESPN, we’re really fair. We don’t do hit pieces. Your mom would have to sign a release –”

  “Sorry, I’m not doing any interviews. I just did the one for a friend.”

  Scott rubbed his freshly shaved chin. “If you change your mind, you have my card. For the record, I think that what you did took a lot of guts.”

  “Thanks.”

  Carter sat on his front step and opened The Washington Post.

  SUICIDE, LIES, AND STATE CHAMPIONS

  By Sarah Cunningham – Tuesday, January 21, 1992

  On Friday, November 1st, 1991, the North Potomac High School football team won the Gunston District Championship. On that same night, former reserve cornerback, Ben Wheeler, 16, committed suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning. The North Potomac Marauders of Alexandria, Virginia went on to win the state championship, and Head Coach Randy Cowan is riding the longest winning streak in high school football history.

  Meanwhile allegations were made by Ben’s parents, Jill and David Wheeler, that a humiliating initiation is forced on newly minted varsity football players. They believe their son Ben endured this initiation, nine weeks before his death.

  On December seventeenth, 1991, a school board meeting took place to address the allegations. The North Potomac School District Superintendent, Dr. Richard Perry said, “Here at North Potomac High School we have a no-tolerance policy for bullying.”

  Dr. Perry conducted an investigation that involved one-on-one interviews between Coach Cowan and the football players. They did not find any evidence of bullying. Cowan said, “The kids told some funny stories, but nothing that was bullying or hazing.”

  Members of the public were allowed to comment at the meeting. Current football players spoke of the family-like bond between teammates. Several former football players remarked how playing football for the Marauders helped them to be better leaders and fathers.

  Ben’s father, David Wheeler, also spoke. He stood at the podium with a typewritten plea in hand. He never did finish reading the words on that piece of paper. Mr. Wheeler was interrupted twice by Dr. Perry. At the third interruption, Mr. Wheeler told Dr. Perry to shut up and to let him speak. He was promptly escorted from the auditorium by police officers. Mr. Wheeler gave me that piece of paper. Since he was not allowed to speak that day, I have sought to provide him with a new platform. Here are his words in their entirety.

  My son was Ben Wheeler. Six weeks ago he killed himself in our home. Fifteen weeks ago he was humiliated at a team initiation. He was so ashamed that he refused to go to school or practice. He was promptly thrown off the team. In a matter of days, my son lost the majority of his friends, the sport he loved, and his dignity. My wife and I are not looking for revenge – we’re not looking to place blame. We’re not planning a lawsuit. We simply want the hazing to stop. We do not want another child to suffer the way Ben did and so many others before him. I hope this issue isn’t swept under the rug like it has been in the past. Thank you.

  After the school board meeting, I interviewed dozens of current and former football play
ers that corroborated initiations, spanning decades. Sean Nicholson, class of 1974, had to sing in the school lunch room. He said, “Everyone laughed at me, but it was all in good fun. I think it brought us closer together as a team.”

  Dalton Barrett, class of 1983 was forced to run the length of the football field naked, with a cookie between his butt cheeks. “I didn’t have to eat it – thank God. If we dropped it or if we finished last, we had to eat the cookie.”

  Stacy Jefferson, class of 1991 detailed a drinking game that continued until each and every player vomited. “We had one guy – he was only a sophomore – that wouldn’t puke. He was so messed up that they had to take him to the hospital. I heard they just dropped him on the concrete in front of the emergency room and left. It’s not like he died, but it was messed up how they left him.”

  Carter Lynch, class of 1993, and Ben Wheeler, along with a dozen teammates, were forced into the basement of a farmhouse. “The seniors gave us three choices for our initiation,” Lynch said. “We couldn’t leave the basement without completing one.”

  Lynch and his fellow recruits were forced to choose between allowing a senior to slap them in the face with his penis, inserting a cucumber in their rectum, and returning to the upstairs party naked, where over a hundred girls waited. “The catch was that if we wanted to get our clothes and our keys back, we had to sleep with a girl there,” Lynch said.

  The seniors expected all of the recruits to return to the party, where it was arranged for a female classmate to wrap them up in a jacket. “It was like some sort of stupid rigged test to get someone to come forward who they could then condemn for being gay,” Lynch said.

  Ben Wheeler chose first, choosing to let a senior slap him in the face with his penis. Everyone else chose to be let out into the party naked to have sex with a girl. Ben tried to change his choice, but he was not allowed. He was on his knees with his eyes closed as they mimed the sex act with a cucumber. He was sent back to the party fully clothed and alone.

  “Everyone looked at him like he was nothing,” Lynch said. “He was humiliated. He was never the same after that.”

  Carter Lynch is correct – Ben was never the same after that. He missed the first three days of school after the incident as well as football practice. Head Coach Randy Cowan requires each player to sign a behavior contract at the start of football camp. One of the rules states that if you miss three practices without an excuse, you will be kicked off the team. Ben lost his dignity at that party and then lost the sport he loved. Two months after the hazing incident, he took his own life.

  These initiations have escalated over the years. What started as harmless fun meant to bring a team closer together, has become a dangerous ritual meant to humiliate.

  As students, we are punished if we cheat or lie. We are expected to tell the truth to our teachers and coaches and principals. In return our leaders are supposed to lead. They are supposed to show us the right way to behave in a fair and just society. In this case, I think the adults in power failed Ben Wheeler and thousands of other children like him. The leaders of our young people should be held to the highest standards.

  Because power corrupts, society's demands for moral authority and character increase as the importance of the position increases. – John Adams

  – 18 –

  School’s Out for Summer

  The halls were raucous. Kids ran around as if they were pardoned criminals. Some girls wore short shorts bordering on the obscene, while boys in baggy Bermudas provided contrast. Carter rummaged through his locker, separating the trash into a pile and the non-trash into his duffel bag. His jeans were starting to fray at the bottom. A soft finger traced the vein in his bicep.

  “You ready to blow this joint?” Sarah asked, adjusting her glasses.

  She wore a cotton dress to her knees with a red belt.

  He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

  She frowned at him. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be ecstatic for the last day of school.”

  “It’s not like I’m gonna be off on vacation. I’m already on the schedule for fifty hours.” He tossed a paperback into his duffel bag. “The nursery’s always shorthanded.”

  She grabbed his hand. “You could take some time off. We could go to the Shenandoah’s and do those waterfall hikes.”

  “Sorry, I guess I’m just feeling burnt out.” He took a deep breath. “It’s like I just limped through the finish line, only to realize I have to run another race.”

  Devin sauntered toward Carter, his baggy jean shorts hanging to mid-calf, his flat-top three inches above his head.

  “What’s up,” he said, smiling.

  “Hey, Devin,” Sarah said.

  “Congratulations,” Carter said. “All state in the 200 is pretty crazy.”

  Devin shrugged. “I was actually second, but thanks. You should’ve run. We could’ve used another sprinter for the four by one.”

  “With work and everything …”

  “You got the rest of your life to work, only one more year to play sports.”

  Carter looked away.

  Devin shook his head. “Come on, man, I know you wanna play. I heard you’ve been running up at the track at night. And I know you got those weights in your garage. You look like you’ve been using ’em.”

  “I said the same thing,” Sarah said. “He does all these insane workouts. I don’t see the point if he’s not going to play a sport.”

  “I have to look good for you,” Carter said to Sarah with a wink.

  She rolled her eyes.

  “You know, Coach Goodman’s not that bad,” Devin said. “I bet he’d let you back on the team. We have nobody at safety right now.”

  “I still can’t believe they fired Cowan,” Sarah said.

  “Someone wrote a really good article,” Carter said, flashing Sarah a grin.

  Devin didn’t let up. “Coach Goodman’s been on our asses about the hazing too. He said if anyone is caught hazing they’d be thrown off the team.”

  Carter nodded.

  “He’s here today.”

  Carter nodded again.

  “You could go talk to him,” Devin said.

  Carter looked at Sarah.

  She held her hands up. “Don’t look at me,” she said. “It’s your decision. I just want you to do what makes you happy.”

  * * *

  Carter stared at the placard on the wooden door. Head Football Coach Lyle Goodman. He took a deep breath and tapped on the door. A massive man answered. Coach Goodman had a barrel chest, a blockhead, and salt and pepper stubble. He narrowed his eyes.

  “Carter Lynch,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  “Can I talk to you?” Carter asked.

  He frowned. “I can give you a couple minutes. I have a coaches’ meeting at three.”

  Coach Goodman lumbered behind the dark oak desk and eased into the leather chair with a groan.

  “Old knees,” he said, placing his meaty forearms on the desk.

  Behind him were shelves loaded with pictures and memorabilia from his playing days at Virginia Tech and the Kansas City Chiefs.

  Carter bit the inside of his cheek. “I’d like to get back on the football team.”

  Coach Goodman winced and sat back in his chair. “That won’t to be possible.”

  Carter’s mouth was a flat line. “Why not?”

  “Well for one, you admitted to being a part of that hazing mess. This program needs to heal. We need to distance ourselves from that nonsense.”

  Carter stood up. “I was forced to do it!”

  Coach Goodman was expressionless. “For two, you and your little girlfriend extorted four hundred dollars from me. You’re lucky I never called the cops.”

  “This is bullshit and you know it.”

  “You’re not cut out to be part of a team. You’re a cancer, pure and simple.”

  Carter marched to the office door and opened it.

  Coach Goodman said, “Leave it open.”
/>   Carter slammed the door as he left.

  * * *

  The hamburgers sizzled as Sarah pressed down on the metal spatula. Carter sat at the kitchen table, staring out the bay window. She opened the oven door.

  “I think the fries are ready,” she said.

  Carter stood and trudged to the stove, grabbing an oven mitt from the counter. Sarah moved aside as Carter pulled a metal tray filled with golden brown crinkle-cut fries. He shut the oven and Sarah moved back over the stove top. She placed squares of cheese on the burgers. Carter grabbed two plates and two glasses from the cupboard. Buns popped from the toaster. Sarah readied the burgers while Carter shoveled fries onto their plates. They sat down at the kitchen table.

  Carter’s eyes were glazed. He stared out the window, chewing slowly, as if eating were another burden to bear.

  “I’m sorry,” Sarah said. “I’m sorry for being such an idiot.”

  Carter looked at Sarah. “No, it’s not your fault. The four hundred dollars was just an excuse. It wouldn’t have mattered either way.”

  “Well it’s not fair. We can appeal to the school board. I could write a follow-up article.”

  “Sarah, no.” Carter shook his head. “I don’t wanna play anymore. It was a stupid idea.”

  “I just –”

  The phone rang. Sarah walked over to the phone and picked it up.

  “Hello?” There was a pause. “Oh hey, Devin, did you want to talk –. Okay, hold on.”

  Sarah stretched the long cord to Carter.

  “It’s Devin,” she said, her brow furrowed. “He says it’s important.”

  Carter used his napkin to wipe the salt from his fingertips before grabbing the phone. “Devin, what’s up?”

  Carter heard cars and trucks in the background.

  “You gotta get down to Zach’s farmhouse,” Devin said.

  “Why?”

  “Your sister’s there and shit is getting out of control.”