Chapter 16: Who Doesn't Like Mondays?

There was something different in the locker room the following Monday morning before practice. Tim could almost feel it in the air as he entered. The normal early birds were already getting ready for first-period practice and, as usual, Tim was the first freshman to arrive. He was not alone for long, though. Others would begin arriving in a few minutes.

After gathering his locker basket and changing into his workout shirt and shorts, Tim heard the main door to the locker room slam against the wall. That really wasn't odd, since guys would usually hit the door pretty hard and make it slam against the wall on purpose, many times a day but, this time, the yelling voice accompanying it was decidedly different.

"Holy hell! Freshmen! I go to sleep Friday night after our scrimmage beating of the Mules, feeling pretty good about how we played! Then I wake up Saturday afternoon to a bunch of text messages saying the freshmen destroyed Alamo Heights, and that I was not going to believe what I saw in the game film!" the All-City Senior Middle Linebacker and Captain of the Varsity Team was yelling at the top of his lungs.

He hung up his clothes and dropped his school books on the floor in front of the doorway to the varsity locker area, followed by several other senior varsity members. "So, I call up Coach Van Cleave Saturday afternoon to see if he knows what all these text messages were about. Seems that a few of the earlier ones I had not yet read, were from him!" Frank was still yelling at the top of his lungs, and players and coaches were pouring out of every nook and cranny to see what the yelling was all about.

"Coach tells me to get my ass over to his office to watch something amazing. He wouldn't say anything more, but he did tell me to 'invite' a couple of my fellow teammates. So, there we were ... the starting defensive front seven for the Roosevelt Rough Riders ... showing up to school on a Saturday afternoon! This was after we had just beat the holy hell outta an Alamo Heights team Friday night, who should make the playoffs in their smaller school division. We find a sign taped to the locker room door, sending us to the film room."

The entire time he was yelling, Frank Robinson was standing just off the edge of the blue carpeted floor of the locker room. He had led by example since the first day of two-a-days and had never set foot on the carpet until he was ready for football. All players finished their gossiping and horseplay before stepping foot on the carpet and saluting the team motto on the wall.

Tim Murphy made his way out of the freshman locker area and was standing in the doorway, not quite sure what was happening, yet. Other players from all three teams were still coming in for Monday morning practice, but no one was going to say a word until Frank had finished yelling about whatever he was yelling about.

"Normally, when we need to come in the next day after a game, it's because we screwed the pooch and lost the game! The coaches love to show us why we lost the game and to rub it in some more. Taking away our Saturday is a pretty good way to do that!" Frank, while standing off the carpet, was staring directly at the freshman locker area. When he saw Tim come out, he pointed at him, turned his fist palm up, and hooked his index finger several times, beckoning Tim to approach like a guy ready to fight.

Tim was quite nervous at being called out in front of everyone like that. He was not exactly sure what was happening but found himself approaching the team leader. Ordinarily, in a situation like this, he would look for Johnnie's input on the situation and then go with his opinion. Johnnie was not yet in the locker room, though. Tim walked up to Frank, side-stepped him to stay off the carpet and was now staring eye-to-eye with the best football player Roosevelt had seen in the last twenty years.

Both guys were prime examples of a healthy diet, hours spent lifting serious amounts of weights, and great genetics. Tim could feel Frank's hot breath on his chest and could see the emotions brewing in his eyes. Across his own vision, in closed-captioning, Tim's nanites updated him on possible first steps to watch for, that would indicate Frank would start a fight. The nanites assured him the proper responses would be taken to protect both himself and Frank if a fight broke out. While standing face-to-face, Tim noticed the coaches standing behind Frank and the other varsity leaders with big smiles plastered on their faces.

Frank started yelling to the locker room once again. "If you all did not hear what this guy did on Saturday, then you better listen up! Tim played twenty-five defensive plays ... total ... against the Alamo Heights Mules! He had fifteen tackles for a loss, eight QB sacks and two fumble recoveries. I have seen the film, and I still can't believe it! There were only two plays where he did not make the tackle or fumble recovery himself, and that was because he was too damn busy taking out the entire offensive line so his linebackers could get themselves a little taste of the action. The Mules probably still don't know what the hell happened to them!"

Frank took another step forward, putting just a hair's distance between the both of them, as he asked, "Murphy, what do you have to say for all the mayhem you caused this weekend?"

The nanites announced the high probability a fight was not about to begin, but Tim was, in fact, being congratulated for a job well done on Saturday. The creeping smile on Frank's face led Tim to agree with the nanites.

Tim steeled himself and looked Frank right in the eyes. "I'm just getting started!" he shouted.

The eruption of cheers was deafening. The inner door from the gym opened, and several coaches from the girls' side of the athletic department came running into the locker room, believing there was a full-blown riot going on from all the yelling. One of the other coaches was nearby and able to tell them what had happened.

The biggest smile was on Frank Robinson's face when he reached for Tim, grabbed him in a bear hug, lifted him off the ground, and swung him from side to side. The other varsity leaders were slapping Tim on the back in congratulations and cheering just as loudly. Through all of that, no one set foot on the blue carpet.

The cheers started dying down and the coaches from the girls' side got a promise from the football coaches for a chance to see the film footage of Tim's first football action. The players started going their separate ways to prepare for practice, but Frank wanted to know more. "So, tell me, what the hell got into you, man? That was an amazing game. Damn. We spent a good half hour trying to find anything you did wrong on any of the plays, and we couldn't! It was a very cool thing to see, man. I have already switched shifts with a guy at work so I can be there this Saturday to cheer you guys on. Congrats!"

"Well, all I could think about was Coach Alvarez saying over and over 'Speed, Leverage," Both then at the same time said, "Technique," and started laughing.

"Well, that was great, man, but don't let it go to your head. We've all got Warren this week. Sure they're a bunch of rich kids, too, but they don't give up at the slightest bit of difficulty like those Alamo Heights rich kids." Frank and Tim hugged one more time then both stepped onto the carpet with Tim walking back to the freshman area and Frank saluting the team motto on the wall.

"What the heck was that I heard when I came in this morning? I was coming up the sidewalk and guys were standing in the locker room doorway. I heard some yelling, and it looked like a fight was starting, and then dudes just went nuts." Johnnie Boynes was asking Tim about the morning's theatrics while they were walking out to the baseball outfield to workout.

"Oh, Frank Robinson made this big production about the scrimmage Saturday. Apparently, he and the Varsity defense got called into the office Saturday afternoon by Coach Van Cleave to look at our game film. I almost shit my pants when he called me out in front of everybody. He was standing there all worked up and yelling like he wanted to fight or something! Then he asked me what I had to say about all the mayhem I caused this weekend?"

Johnnie was all smiles when he asked, "Well what did you tell him?"

"I'm just getting started."

Johnnie Boynes loved to laugh, and his laugh was infectious. The other players walking out to the fields hearing the conversation also started laughing, including Coach Barrett right behind the two team leaders. "Okay ladies, let's go! Time is money, and we've got work to do. Hey there, Mayhem, why don't you lead the warm-ups today, so we can all get started."

Thus, a nickname was born.

***

"Congratulations to our Varsity, Junior Varsity and Freshman football teams as all three of them, unofficially, won the season-opening scrimmages against Alamo Heights." The pretty, redheaded senior reading the school announcements on the schools' closed-circuit TV broadcast really thought she was a newscaster. The TV class was an elite class, only for seniors who had completed enough Journalism courses and were approved to join the class by Mr. Baird and the other Mass Communications professors. These included the newspaper, yearbook, debate and speech classes.

The newspaper class was already in Tim's sight, but the idea of being on the school's daily TV broadcast was also interesting. Besides, according to rumors, it was an easy course and, after the daily announcements were read and the next day's stories prepped, they had the rest of the class to themselves. This was similar to what the Journalism class was becoming if you were not "in" with Mr. Baird and doing things across the hall rather than typical practice stories that only took a few minutes to write.

Tim had a plan for the Journalism classes in high school. Mainly, he wanted to finish this intro class, two years of newspaper, and then either finish off his senior year in the TV class or simply another year on the newspaper. Yearbook and debate were not attractive options at all.

"The varsity won 28-7 and were led by Senior quarterback Troy Williams, who completed ten of sixteen passes, finishing the scrimmage with one hundred eighty-eight yards and three touchdowns, and the defense was led by Senior linebacker Frank Robinson, with a team-high eight solo tackles and an interception.

"The Junior Varsity won their scrimmage 21-7. Sophomore running back Cody Watson ran for one hundred fifty-nine yards and scored three touchdowns in the first half.

"A surprise from Saturday morning, the Freshman football squad easily won their scrimmage, blowing out the Mules 48-0. They were led by Freshman running back Johnnie Boynes, with one hundred ninety-five yards rushing and three touchdowns for the offense, while Freshman linebacker Tim Murphy led a stout defense. Even though he only played twenty-five out of ninety total defensive plays, he finished with fifteen solo tackles for a loss, eight quarterback sacks and two fumble recoveries. According to Coach Barrett, the Alamo Heights coaches requested Mr. Murphy be removed for the second half because they could not stop him, even if they had extra players. Congratulations to all our football teams!"

The class then started pointing and clapping at Tim while being egged on by other members of the football team also in the class.

With morning announcements complete, Mr. Baird was allowed to begin class. "Okay, settle down, everyone. Here are your assignments from last week. Please find yours and pass the rest around. You will notice I did not give an actual grade but, rather, I gave notes on how to finish and polish up your stories. In some cases, start from scratch.

"So, what I want you to do is pick one of your stories from last week, doesn't matter which one, and do the corrections as listed. Try to improve your article via the steps in your book. Turn in your new story on Friday. Oh, also, I want your newly improved story to be double the length it is currently. Okay? Got it? Any questions? No? Good." Mr. Baird stuck his thumbs down in his waistband at his navel then flattened the waistband of his slacks running his thumbs to his side. He gathered up his other papers and went back out to his office across the hall.

The stack of papers made its way around the room. When Tim got his papers, he saw there were not many corrections done to any of them, except the first one, and those were rather mundane, like a few missed commas and a run-on sentence. He got to work on the paper and decided to go ahead and finish it early so he would have the rest of the class time this week for himself.

"Hey, congratulations on a great game this weekend." Tim looked up from his work and saw a cute girl with a slightly lopsided grin sitting across the table from him.

"Um. Thanks. I tried my best but I wasn't the only one to have a great game." Tim took a moment to evaluate the perky brunette. "You have me at a disadvantage. Who might you be?"

She reached across the table to shake hands, and Tim immediately noticed the firm handshake, and the apparent shock registered on his face. "Well, my name's Donna. Donna Jefferies." She pointed with her chin to the handshake and said, "My daddy says, whenever you shake a hand, you should give it a firm grip and try to break it without actually breaking it."

"Tim. Tim Murphy," he smiled at his joke, but Donna didn't, so he apologized, "Sorry, bad joke."

She smiled her agreement.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you today, Miss Jefferies?"

"Mr. Baird told me to make sure I sit with you, back last week." Her embarrassment was easy to see as she reddened several shades from her suntanned hue. She was probably five foot four inches tall and just over one hundred pounds. Her hair slightly curled as it reached her shoulders, and it covered her ears, which were probably a bit big as they poked out from her head, but she still accented them with large silver hoop earrings. She shifted slightly in her chair, which helped Tim notice the tasteful vest over a simple t-shirt. She was wearing make-up but just enough to help focus on her positives.

"So, last week he told you to sit with me, and you waited until today to do so?"

"Well, yeah, he said I should sit with the only other person to figure out his note on the podium from last week." She took a deep breath, looking directly at the table in front of them both, "I was too nervous to meet you, but you seem like a nice guy."

Tim understood the fears Donna was going through as he had them his entire life. Fear of rejection often leads to a lonely life, full of regrets. "So, is it worth coming over and introducing yourself, so far?"

She didn't say anything but the blush deepened, and Tim had to fight himself to not smile. Empathy is a hell of a thing. "So, Donna, tell me a little about yourself, and I'll do the same. What grade are you in?"

"I'm a junior."

Tim waited a moment, hoping she would elaborate but, when she didn't, he realized she had used up all her strength just to come over and start the conversation. He would have to work at continuing it, and drawing her out more. "I'm just a lowly freshman. Why would a good looking, older woman have trouble coming over to sit with me?" Tim smiled and, when she saw it, she smiled as well.

"So you think I'm good lookin'?"

"Of course."

They both kept smiling, and Tim continued with the conversation, "So, are you in any sports or any other school stuff?" Immediately, in his mind, he was yelling at himself, "School stuff? What the hell kind of question is that?! Shit, she'll probably shut up and never talk to me again!" What Tim didn't know was that his own embarrassment started shining brightly right then, and his blush would have encouraged a rampaging bull.

Donna saw his blush and put two and two together. "School stuff, huh?" She smiled at the thought he might also be embarrassed. "Well, I'm on the tennis team. I made all district last year ... well, actually second team but, heck, I was a sophomore."

"That's impressive. Are you trying to get a scholarship in tennis or something?"

"That's the plan. I wanna go to college, and I hope to eventually make it to the pros, but I have a long way to go. At the very least, I'd like to use tennis to get a degree, even if pro tennis is out of the question."

"That's cool. Do you have a favorite school you'd like to go to?"

Donna sat back in her chair and unfastened a couple of buttons of her vest, revealing a burnt-orange colored longhorn emblem with "Texas Tennis" written underneath.

"Ah, a Longhorn enthusiast. Is it a family thing or your original choice?"

She thought for a second and then, while refastening the buttons on her vest, replied, "Both, I'd say. My mom and dad both graduated from UT. They actually met there, but it is also the school I would love to go to, anyway. Maybe I was programmed that way but, actually, I'm not complaining about it." Donna smiled and leaned forward. "Okay, enough about me. What about your family?"

"Um, Dad was in the Army but is retired now, and Mom is a stay-at-home mom. You know, now that I think about it, I don't know how they met. As for college, well, I know I want to go, but I don't have any favorites as of yet."

"I don't think you are going to have any troubles in that department."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, from the announcements this morning, it seems you are a good football player. I've never heard of anyone playing like that. Did I hear the rumors right, Saturday was your first game?"

"Well, it was everyone's first high school game situation. It was only a scrimmage. Heck, some of the coaches were actually on the field trying to help. But yeah, that was my first time playing football. I never played in middle school or Pop Warner or anything like that."

Donna had trouble believing Tim's story, and the skepticism on her face was easy to read. Tim had to fight from laughing out loud, but a small laugh did escape. "Oh come on Tim, don't lie. You never played football before. Yeah, right. Look at you ... you look like you've been playing college football for years."

"Oh, you want the story?" She sat back in her chair and looked slightly confounded as well as a little bit hurt. Tim either didn't notice or did not care and continued his explanation. "Well, at the beginning of this summer, I got sick and actually spent a week in the hospital. While I was there, I lost around seventy-five pounds. After I got better and went home, my energy level shot through the roof. That is when I started exercising, and I found out I liked it. I liked the way it made me feel."

"Wow, that's amazing. But what was wrong with you, um, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh, I had a tapeworm. They have this pill you can take that kills it in about a day or so and then the thing comes out."

"Eww! How did it come out of you?" Before Tim could answer, Donna started waving her hands frantically and scrunched up her face in obvious disgust. "Nevermind! Nevermind! I don't wanna know!"

Social media has changed the way people see and interact with the world. No facet of society has been untouched it, including high school football.

Sophomore running back Rodney Valentine was a star in the making. Go ahead and ask him. He will tell you all about it. The problem with his attitude was, it was earned. Valentine was a known commodity throughout the recruiting world. He was built like a Mack truck but ran like a Ferrari 488 GTB. He played football with a chip on his shoulder. Practically every interview he had given leaves the viewer with the impression Rodney Valentine was annoyed, thinking you did not know how good of a football player Rodney Valentine was or how great of a player Rodney Valentine could become. He was definitely not a likable person but you would thank the heavens he was your teammate. He was ready, willing, and able to become the next great football player to come from the Judson Rocket system.

The Judson Rockets were the superior sports teams in South Central Texas. They were at the top in football, baseball, basketball, track and field, swimming and even academics. Students in the Judson Rocket system were fostered and coddled, but the results were easy to see. The best students, the best players, the best teachers, the best coaches, the best administration, the best facilities and, of course, the best support system a child could ask for. The parents were involved, almost to an over-bearing degree, but you couldn't argue with the results.