Chapter 19: Friday, Aug. 31

GAME DAY — SEASON OPENER, BEARCATS

I woke up a little before 6 a.m. with my bladder making it necessary to get out of bed. Just as well, I thought. Not only could I get in and out of the bathroom before Kacie, I’d have time to go over the algebra again. I figured it couldn’t hurt.

We were under orders to wear white polos and slacks to school today. Coach Tucker didn’t want any bare legs when we stepped out onto the basketball court for the pep rally.

The pep rally would alter our class schedule slightly. School officials carved 30 minutes out of the day by shortening all the morning classes, lunch and fifth period by five minutes. The A and B lunches would be held together before the rally, which would start at 11:40, with the C and D lunches together right after. Less time for lunch made it that much more difficult to eat off-campus, while combining two lunch groups more than filled the cafeteria. A lot of people would be sitting outside. I always wondered how that worked when the season extended into December.

Somehow, they made it all fit into the allotted time. I’d never missed lunch because of a pep rally during my first three years, but we were a little rushed to get it all in before classes resumed at 12:45.

Of course, the football team received special treatment. We’d return to the fieldhouse and have a team meal in the meeting room. The student trainers, managers and cheerleaders would also be there, taking more than 150 students out of the cafeteria.

Jed had told me that when he learned of the setup when he first made varsity that he wished he’d known about it as a freshman. He would have busted his ass to get moved up even earlier just for the pregame meals.

I got dressed, opting for deck shoes with no socks, grabbed my backpack and headed for the kitchen to get some breakfast. I could hear Kacie moving about in the bathroom. We’d see if she moved fast enough to catch a ride with me today.

Mom and Dad were already sipping coffee when I arrived. Both were dressed in blue and white with spirit buttons pinned to their shirts. It took me a moment to realize the buttons had my picture from media day. I really did look different without hair.

We swapped good mornings as I grabbed cereal, milk and a bowl. I was about to join them at the table when I realized I might also need a spoon.

“Ready for your first game?” Dad asked as I sat down.

“If I’m not, they may not ask me back for a second,” I said. “I’d better deal with Algebra II before I worry about football, though.”

“Good answer,” Mom said as I pulled out my book and again reviewed the chapter as I ate.

Kacie came in and grabbed yogurt and fruit for her breakfast. I went for another bowl of cereal. I’d tried to survive on yogurt and bananas for two weeks during two-a-days and had lost nearly 10 pounds. I was still several pounds shy of the weight that would be next to my name in the program tonight. At least I hadn’t lost any height.

My sister announced she was ready to go a little after 7:30. It still took several minutes to work our way through the traffic into the parking lot.

I stopped by my locker to make sure I’d have the books I’d need, leaving the Algebra II book in the backpack just in case I had a chance to review further before fifth period. The top shelf of the locker held a little basket of sugar cookies with a note from Staci signed with a lipstick print. I wondered how she got into my locker. I’d never given her the combination.

The morning classes went well enough, I guess. There were pop quizzes in Economics and Western Civ and we were assigned an essay in English IV that would be due Tuesday. It seemed my morning teachers weren’t the least bit worried I might suffer from brain drain before kickoff.

We got a surprise in athletics when the assistant coaches came through the locker room handing out packages that contained polo shirts. We were issued a blue one and a white one. It turned out that they were just like the coaches’ shirts except that our jersey numbers were stitched on the right sleeve. The captains also had a C embroidered on the left shoulder.

“These are to be worn only on game days,” Coach Tucker announced when he entered the locker room. “Wear blue for home games and white for road games. We’ll wear these when we travel for games far enough away that we don’t dress out here, like the next two weeks and in the playoffs.”

“Where’d these come from?” somebody asked from across the room.

“The booster club,” Coach Tucker said. “Someone made a sizable contribution when they joined for this year. Said they wanted the team to look sharp. I expect you to play sharp as thanks for the kind gesture. Hurry up and change into the blue ones for today. We’ll meet in the team room in 10 minutes.”

I placed the package with the white shirt in my locker, took the blue shirt out of its package, made sure all the pins were removed and changed out of the shirt I’d worn to school. I kind of wished we’d had time to have the new shirts laundered first. Mine felt kinda scratchy, like it needed some fabric softener or something.

We congregated in the team room, which was already being set up for our lunch, and were given instructions on what to do during the pep rally. Which were basically walk out on the gym floor and stand there while the rest of the student body worked itself into a frenzy.

We’d enter as the band played the fight song, then Dr. Stirling and Coach Tucker would each make a little speech. Captains would be introduced and the cheerleaders would lead a cheer, then the drill team would perform a routine. There would be a highlight video from last year projected on the scoreboard screen, which consumed most of one end wall. Somewhere in all that would be a skit that always ended with a very amateurish version of the opposing mascot getting pantsed by our mascot, revealing some extremely gaudy boxer shorts.

Our marching band was so huge that most of them didn’t perform at the pep rally. Instead, a pep band of about 100 or so would be set up on little risers at the end of the court opposite the scoreboard. Kacie had told me once that the configuration would change from week to week depending on the music to be played. It was mostly brass, but no tubas, which took up too much space. They had a bass guitar to make up for it. Using that reasoning, I thought they would have had a trap set instead of the drum line, but I wasn’t the one making those decisions.

Soon enough, we were told to line up by jersey number and herded across the parking lot to a door that led to the hallway across the back end of the gym. We were held there until the band played the opening strains of the fight song, then walked out onto the court.

On, on Mighty Blue

We are right for the fight tonight

Hold that ball and hit that line

Everyone in blue will shine

And then we’ll FIGHT! for the blue and white

And we’ll roar for the old varsity

We’ll kick, pass and run

‘Til those Bearcats are done

And we’ll bring home the victory!

B!

L!

U!

E!

B-L-U-E!

FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

The one thing that always got me about our fight song was that the lyrics changed to accommodate the nickname of each opponent. That worked when it was two syllables — like Panthers, Eagles, Lions, Tigers — but we had Bears, Hawks and Cardinals in our district. I always wondered what would happen if we ever played someone with a name like Armadillos or Javelinas. God forbid we ever play the Hippopotamuses.

We lined up along one sideline facing the seats on the opposite side, which were filled with the juniors and seniors. The freshmen and sophomores were in the stands behind us. All they got to see was the backs of 86 bald heads.

The cheerleaders entered through another door at the same time the team did, cartwheeling and handspringing across the court. I couldn’t help but notice how nicely Staci Patterson jiggled as she waved to the crowd. The cheerleaders split into two groups, eight facing each side, to begin the first cheer.

Dr. Stirling assumed the role of emcee, which would have been handled by Ralph Franks had he not gotten himself kicked upstairs, and welcomed us to another exciting football season, which had gotten kicked off last night with our two freshman teams and the JV all winning on the road.

He took a moment to make sure everyone knew Sherry Parker was in attendance. Sherry was seated in her wheelchair in an area where the cheerleaders kept whatever props they would employ, dressed in her cheerleading uniform with a blue scarf on her bald head. She stood long enough to wave to both sets of stands, drawing the biggest ovation of the entire event.

The superintendent then turned it over to Coach Tucker, who told us why it was going to be an exciting football season before introducing the captains. Jed, Marshawn, Reggie Terrell and Danny Mathis stepped forward and waved.

I saw Morgan with two geeky-looking guys, all dressed in blue coaching shirts and khakis, standing with the coaching staff off to one side, but my attention was drawn elsewhere before she noticed me.

The pep band struck up David Bowie’s “Let’s Dance” as the cheerleaders performed a routine. My focus was solely on how enticingly Staci twitched her ass under her little cheerleader skirt. She flashed me a saucy little grin over her shoulder when she noticed me looking.

After a couple more cheers, the drill team performed its routine to Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again,” which seemed to fit the theme of a season opener. Those girls knew how to put on a show, and their skirts were even skimpier than those the cheerleaders wore. Lots of long, sculpted legs kicked high. I think a few of them could touch their noses with their knees without bending over.

I wondered how Elise Stirling’s legs would look in one of those outfits. God help me if she wasn’t wearing panties.

The highlight video had clips of guys who were on varsity last year, which was most of this year’s roster. I saw Marcell Powers burst through the line for a big gain behind a pancake block from Jed, Marshawn obliterate some poor soul who had the audacity to carry the ball into his area, several receivers pulling in passes from last year’s quarterback and defensive backs making interceptions. It was accompanied by the band belting out “Glory Days.” The Boss couldn’t have done it any better himself.

The skit went off as scripted with our mascot — a big, blue fuzzball — yanking a pair of shorts off what looked like a mangy cat to expose a pair of boxers emblazoned with the Rolling Stones logo. I took that as a big “FUCK YOU” to Ralph Franks for giving all the varsity cheerleaders detention and attempting to fire the cheer coach.

One more cheer and the school song wrapped things up, then we were instructed to head back to the team room for lunch. Staci looped an arm through mine as we exited the gym and smacked me wetly on the cheek.

“Did you like our routine?” she asked perkily.

“I think he did,” Morgan said as she took my other arm. “He was staring at your butt the whole time.”

Both girls giggled as I blushed over getting busted.

“Like my butt, do you?” Staci grinned.

“I am inspired to do great things tonight,” I said. “Maybe you can wiggle it for me before I go out to hold for the first kick.”

“You’d better be thinking about catching the snap and getting the ball down on the tee,” Jed said as he bopped me on the back of the head. “Now let’s go eat.”

I was surprised at the number of people crammed into the team room. It looked like several of the team parents were there. I waved at Mom and Dad and Grandma and Grandpa, who were already seated at one of the many long tables set up in the room, as the players and cheerleaders headed for the buffet line placed against one wall.

The meal was pretty basic — grilled chicken, potatoes and veggies. Jed said Coach Tucker didn’t want us eating anything too greasy or spicy before games. It was still tasty and filling, but I would have preferred some beef.

I went to sit with my family, who’d been joined by the Richardses and Pattersons. All we needed were the Ensberrys and Metzgers and it would’ve been like a Sunday at the country club. Morgan and Staci made sure to sit on either side of me. Kinsey and Kirsten would be incensed if they ever found out.

“You boys ready to play?” Grandpa asked as we dug in.

“We’d better be,” Jed said around a mouthful of chicken. “I’m gettin’ tired of just practicin’ every day. It’s time to see what we can do.”

“You sure look nice in those shirts,” Grandma said. “I’m glad they were able to get them delivered this morning. I was afraid they wouldn’t get the right shade of blue.”

I guess I knew who our benefactor in the booster club was.

Mom, of course, had more important matters to discuss.

“Are you ready for your algebra test?” she asked.

“We’ll find out in about half an hour,” I said after swallowing. “I’ll give the chapter another look after we eat. My book’s in my backpack in my locker in the fieldhouse.”

“And what is your role in this enterprise, young lady?” Grandpa asked Morgan.

“I’ll basically be Coach Tucker’s pack mule tonight,” she said. “I’ve already been given extra packs of his favorite chewing gum to have ready if he runs out. They’ve got this little utility belt that will hold a water bottle, extra batteries for his headset, things like that.”

“It’s a lot different from when I played,” my grandfather mused. “I don’t think our old coach would have allowed a girl anywhere near the bench area on the sidelines. All of our waterboys and ballboys were boys.”

“Your old coach was still having flashbacks to the Normandy invasion,” Grandma said. “They had to stop firing that old cannon after touchdowns because of that. I felt sorry for him when they forced him to retire after our junior year. He was such a hoot in World History.”

Mr. Patterson had a little announcement to make.

“I just got this cleared with your coach this morning, but we’re going to do a little something for the Parker girl,” he said, drawing a questioning look from his daughter. “We’ll wait until you come back out for the coin toss and anthem. It won’t take two minutes and requires little more than you presence.

“And not a word of this to Sherry,” he directed at Staci. “This is supposed to be a surprise.”

I finished my meal and excused myself to go get ready for my test. I still had 10 minutes before the bell rang. With hugs from Staci and Morgan, I told my relatives I’d see them at the game and went across the hall.

The test itself was surprisingly easy — 20 questions that were almost exactly like our homework from this week, just with different numbers. I got a kick out of the five-point bonus question — the final score of tonight’s game. I think I spent more time on that than I did on any of the others. I figured we could count on a touchdown each from Marcell and Javon, at least one by a wide receiver and a slot receiver. Throw in Reggie keeping on a zone read and maybe some kind of return. I went with 49-14 just because there would probably be a garbage-time touchdown for the Bearcats.

Chemistry was even easier. All we did was read from the book. There were no notes to keep for my lab partner. I’d have to ask her dad how volleyball did today if I saw him before the final bell.

I coasted through Creative Writing, which was more on writing balanced pieces on controversial subjects, and hit my locker when the bell rang. I’d need my English book for the essay. I did remember to grab the cookies off the top shelf. There were noticeably fewer than when I’d arrived this morning.

Kacie and Bethany were waiting at the Beemer when I got to the parking lot. Both greeted me with a smooch, my sister making sure hers was on my cheek.

“I hate to tell you, but I can only give one of you a ride,” I said.

“I’ve already got one,” Bethany said. “I think I can trust Kacie not to wear you out before the game. I’m not so sure about me. I need to visit the apartment ASAP.”

“We’ll have to see what we can work out,” I said. “I’ve got an assignment for Monday and Kinsey’s party tomorrow night. If Kacie grants permission, maybe we can fit that in.”

“If Elise Stirling’s out of there,” Kacie snickered.

“Elise Stirling’s not going there any time soon,” I said, putting my bag in the trunk. “Give me a minute, will ya? I’ve got to get something out of the fieldhouse.”

I raced to the locker room to get my white team shirt and the one I’d worn this morning from my locker, then returned. Bethany was already gone.

“Her ride showed up,” Kacie explained. “She said you owe her a good-bye kiss.”

Which I’d gladly pay on demand.

By now, traffic had cleared enough that it wouldn’t take long to get out of the lot. I held the passenger door for my sister and went around to get in.

“You need to get me a key for this car,” she said as I cranked up. “You’ll have one for the Rover when we get it.”

“I guess we should make enough spares for both vehicles so Mom and Dad each have one and one to keep at the house just in case,” I said. “We’ll have to do that next week sometime.”

The ride home went quickly and we were in our rooms before the Beemer’s engine cooled down. I was reclined on my bed with my tablet when Kacie came in from the bathroom.

“Scoot over,” she said, claiming what had seemed to become “her” side of my bed.

My sister snuggled up close, pulling my arm around her as she put her head on my shoulder.

“Can we go out after the game tonight?” she asked. “I’ve done the postgame band get-togethers for two years now. And it is supposed to be my week.”

“Sure,” I said, giving her a squeeze. “What do you want to do? Dairy Queen for some ice cream or something?”

“Or something,” she smirked. “Bethany’s request for a visit to the apartment got me thinking.”

I guess the rest of my evening had been planned for me. I better avoid a serious injury in the game, like tripping over a yard line and knocking myself out the first time we lined up to kick.

We just cuddled for an hour or so before my phone beeped. It was time for me to go back to the fieldhouse and start getting ready.

I convinced my sister to let me get up and grab everything I’d need to take with me. She’d have to get ready to report to the bandhall in another hour.

“Give me something to cheer about,” Kacie said before pulling me in for a sizzling kiss.

I think the only reason I didn’t pull her back to bed right then was we heard Mom opening the garage door.

I pulled into the parking lot a little before 5 p.m. to see several guys already there. It wouldn’t surprise me if a few of them had never left school grounds.

I buttoned up the Beemer and headed inside to find a beehive of activity. I had to take a moment to appreciate the beauty of the uniform hanging in my locker. The blue jersey with white trim and numbers, white game pants and blue helmet with freshly applied decals seemed to gleam in the light.

“Pretty impressive, huh?” Ronnell Meadows said from the next locker. “I remember suitin’ up for my first varsity game after gettin’ called up as a sophomore. I was afraid to actually play ‘cause I didn’t want to get it dirty. Coach Wilson told me not to worry about that ‘cause we were playin’ on turf.”

The mention of our position coach seemed to conjure his appearance.

“Got somethin’ for ya, rookie,” he said, tossing me a small package containing a pair of gloves. “Never got a chance to get these to ya during the week. Try ‘em out during pregame and see how ya do. Don’t be afraid to go barehanded when you’re holdin’ for kicks, though. Gotta stay with what’s been workin’ so far.”

I took my time getting changed, making sure all my pads were properly inserted in the compression shorts and game pants and that the blue spirit rag was properly tied on. I was starting to get a good cover of fuzz after Sherry Parker told us we could let our hair grow back out, but it would be several weeks before I could put a part in it. That comb I bought on the first day of school still sat unused on the top shelf of my locker.

Grabbing the little can of shaving cream and the one remaining razor I had from the same purchase, I headed back to the sinks and scraped the stubble off my lower legs before going to get taped. Cody from my Algebra II class was available and I hopped up on his table.

“What’d you put down on the bonus question?” he asked as he swathed my legs in prewrap.

“49-14, us,” I said, explaining my rationale.

“I put infinity to negative infinity,” he grinned. “I figured it had to be somewhere in that range. I hope Mr. Henderson appreciates it.”

Cody swiftly got my ankles wrapped. Again, I could barely wiggle my toes. My feet should stay on tonight.

I thanked him and hopped of the table to go finish dressing.

The socks were still warm from the dryer, something I’m sure I’d appreciate more once the weather cooled off. Which might be sometime in November. I laced up my cleats and went ahead and put on my shoulder pads so I could get the jersey on over them. It turned out I wasn’t the only one to have that idea and soon all the receivers were helping each other make sure the tops were properly in place.

Taking the pads and jersey off, I put the gloves in my helmet and pulled the facemask through the neck hole, then sat back and relaxed until it was time to bus over to the stadium. Which was only a few minutes.

Coach Tucker came through blasting his whistle with Morgan right behind. I guess since we were all dressed, it was no big issue to have a girl in the locker room, but Grandpa’s old coach probably would have raised an objection.

Outside were four yellow dog buses that could seat about 30 each as long as all the linemen didn’t try to get on the same one. I think our original cabana crew could have filled a bus by itself considering the amount of space taken up by our gear.

Coach Ramirez called me to ride the bus he was on, wanting to go over some things. I’d be surprised if he had enough time to remind me to have laces out before we reached the stadium.

“Coach Wilson told me about the gloves,” he said as I took a seat next to him. “Don’t even waste time with them tonight when you’re holding. We’ll see how it goes in practice next week, but right now it’s too late to change things up.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “Anything else?”

“Don’t expect to run any fakes tonight,” the special teams coach said. “Coach Tucker likes to play it close to the vest in nondistrict games and I want every opportunity to see how Jeremy and Fabrice compete. They’ll alternate every kick. If we ever have a situation where we’d call a fake, we’d more than likely just leave the offense on the field.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, not the least bit disappointed. The less I had to deal with tonight, the better off we’d all be.

The buses pulled into the stadium parking lot and circled around to the fenced-in team parking area behind the dressing rooms on the north end of the field. It was still well before 6 o’clock and the lot was already half full with folks getting in their first tailgate parties of the season. I’d miss doing that on Friday nights, but I had other things to focus on now. Maybe we could hit an NFL or college game and tailgate there.

We filed off the bus, some guys heading down to the field to get a feel for the surface, which shouldn’t be any different than our practice field, while others headed into the home dressing room. The Bearcats had already arrived and were milling about the visitors side of the structure. I could tell we’d have a definite size advantage with our line alone, but bigger didn’t necessarily help if the other guys were too fast to catch.

I looked out over the field, seeing our stadium from a player’s point of view for the first time. Our school had been playing at this site since the Depression, if not earlier, but the place had undergone some serious renovations over the years. It now resembled a smaller version of a college stadium.

The field was about 10 feet below street level with the stands on both sides coming down so close there wasn’t room for a track like a lot of schools had. Our track surrounded the practice field at school. Artificial turf had first been installed about 15 years ago, helping alleviate drainage problems that could turn the natural-grass field into a mud pit if it ever rained much.

And we had the good stuff with fake blades of grass and rubber pellets for cushioning, not the old AstroTurf that could be as hard as concrete when it got some age on it. Our current surface had been installed when I was in junior high and school officials were already talking about budgeting for its replacement in a couple of years.

The original stands had been torn down and replaced in the early ‘60s when they built the first building of the current high school, then those had been demolished and concrete stands erected sometime in the ‘90s before I was even born. The place now seated 15,000 and sported a three-level press box on the home side that was about 50 yards end to end.

The center sections of the home stands, about 4,000 seats if I remembered correctly, had chair-back seats for the season ticketholders. Most of my family would be sitting up there somewhere. On either side of that and on the entire visitors side was just rows of aluminum benches, but a good number of those had backrests. The front row on both sides was about four steps above field level, high enough that fans sitting there could see over the people on the sidelines. The south end of our stands were general admission seats with the student section on the north end. There was actually a chain-link fence running about shoulder-high between the student section and the reserved seats, keeping all the rowdy punks away from the folks with money.

The band would set up on the south end of the visitors stands. This served multiple purposes, such as they’d be playing to the home crowd, even if it was from across the field. Then there was the fact that it freed up several hundred more seats for home fans while taking some away from the visitors.

Of course, there were some years when the band would have outnumbered either the home or visiting crowds if both teams were having bad seasons. If both teams were having really good years, like a matchup of 9-0 teams playing for the district championship on the final night of the season, the band would be placed in bleachers behind one end zone.

The most important thing, from a football standpoint, was the band could direct its sound toward the opponent’s bench, making it rather difficult for coaches to be heard above the ruckus. A lot of times, they didn’t even play music, just blared noise through their horns until the opposing coach complained to the referee, who would then order them to stop using “artificial noisemakers.” At that point, the band kids would just start screaming at the tops of their lungs, which was almost as loud as using their instruments.

The visitors side was supposed to be 40 percent of the total capacity, or 6,000 seats. A lot of our district opponents would come close to filling the space as long as their teams were still in playoff contention. With four teams qualifying for the playoffs now, that should be until late October unless someone started 0-4.

Tonight, we could have used the bleachers behind the end zone. The Bearcats came in ranked in the top 10 in the state in their classification after returning most of their starters from a state quarterfinalist and their fans traveled well. With less than 20 miles separating the communities, it was an easy drive, even with metro traffic.

The fact that the series had started back before World War I was the main reason the schools insisted on maintaining it. We’d lost to them once in my lifetime and that had been more than a decade ago.

I waited until 6 to put on my shoulder pads and jersey. Calvin Hobbs helped me make sure the jersey hung straight so the number could be read easily. I went ahead and put on the gloves, making sure they were pulled tight, grabbed my helmet and walked down the ramp to line up behind the north end zone.

The assistant coaches and support staff were busy setting up what we’d need for pregame. Coach Miller was already tooling around in his golf cart issuing orders.

The crowd was starting to fill in already and the gates had only been open a few minutes. I guess that happens in a town where the local football game is considered one of the biggest social events on the calendar.

Coach Tucker and Morgan walked past me on the way to the field. My little Joan Heisman was all business, carrying a clipboard holding our pregame schedule. I didn’t even get a smooch.

At a nod from Morgan, Coach issued the order to line up. At precisely 6:15, he blipped his whistle and the first row went prancing out onto the field, drawing a cheer from the growing crowd.

After calisthenics, we broke up into position groups and ran our typical drills, then the starting offense ran a number of basic plays we’d likely use, but weren’t necessarily in the script.