Chapter 17: Now It Counts

Tim’s father Raymond considered the chance to go with his son to his first football game something of a bonding opportunity. Going to the first varsity football game with his son and his son’s new best friends was like chocolate sprinkles on the desert. So Raymond and Tim with Johnnie Boynes, Mark Mazzurana, Jeff Green and Tony Parker were cruising toward Northside Stadium, home field for the Warren Warriors. Everyone was excited because they were all going to get a small taste of their first ever high school football experience, while also members of the team. The traffic was steady and everyone was passing the time listening to a local sports talk radio show discussing the start of high school football in Texas.

“Jim Bob, I’m telling you this season is set up to be one heck of a fun year for south Texas high school football!” The radio host was obviously very excited and ready to begin dissecting each team and second guessing every coach and every team on a weekly basis. “Several schools here in the San Antonio area have strong enough teams to make honest pushes into the playoffs. Tonight we have several schools kicking off their seasons, and hoping to get started with a win on their way to eternal glory as the state champions.

“Every year there are teams that seemingly come out of nowhere to make a push into the playoffs. Jim Bob my question to you is, who do you think can make a run to the playoffs that we don’t normally see competing at that time of the year?”

“Terry, you are right about that, for sure, every year we always get one or two Cinderella teams that put together enough wins to get themselves first into the playoffs and a possible run at a state championship. I think we are going to see two of them bumping heads tonight, up at Northside Stadium. You have the Warren Warriors defending their home field against the always strong Roosevelt Rough Riders,” the over-excitable color commentator for the local radio show proclaimed during the radio pregame show usually airing a half hour before kickoff.

“Well, Jim Bob, while we know these two teams are always well-coached and always play hard until the game is over, neither team really strikes fear into the hearts of any of the upper-echelon teams in the area like Judson or Reagan or Clark or even Madison Highs. Yes, I agree they are both good but come on old buddy are you getting senile on me, do you really think either Warren or Roosevelt could unseat any of those schools to compete for a state title?”

“Well frankly, Terry, yes I do think it is possible. Mind you things need to go just right for it to happen...”

“Yeah, like back to back tornadoes tearing though each of the before named schools, or finding out each school has been cheating all year and the state cancels their wins for the season!”

Raymond could not take the vitriol any longer and cut off the radio. The mood in the car immediately rose as the other were on the verge of asking Tim’s father to either change the station or to turn it off. “So have any of you guys ever been to a high school game, before. I have to admit I haven’t been to one before, not even when I was in high school!”

“Why not, Mr. Murphy? Didn’t you play football in high school?” Johnnie asked from the third row seat since he was the smallest guy in the car he could squeeze in the easiest it was a unanimous decision made by the others when Johnnie was in the restroom.

“No, I didn’t play football. I played a little baseball and ran some track and did neither one very well. I knew I was going to join the Army about sophomore year and I decided to concentrate on that goal. But I also liked science so after talking it over with my parents we got some information from the Army and I was able to get good enough scores where I was allowed to go to school to become a nurse and the Army trained me for that.” Just after explaining his version of high school, the SUV pulled into a parking spot and the guys began pouring out and making their way over to the entrance. “Hey, guys, hang on a sec! Come over here.” The group formed in around Tim’s dad. “Now I expect you guys to act accordingly all night. I’m not gonna hover over you and expect you to be perfect all the time but just remember to act like a responsible adults, and to also have some fun. I’ll meet you guys right here at this exit when the game is over for the ride home.” Raymond had a way of commanding everyone’s respect and each of the freshmen football team members who had rode in the car with Tim and his father gave him all the respect he deserved and he returned it. “Now, do you all have some money for a soda or something come half time?” He looked over quickly at his son and continued without really looking if any of the boys had any money. “Then get some from Tim, I ain’t anyone else’s dad but his,” Raymond gave a half-hearted shove on his sons’ shoulder. Tim quickly lost his smile while everyone else gained one at his reaction. “Tim hang on a sec.”

“Why did you say that? Now they will want me to buy them something to eat!”

“No, they won’t, but if they do, go ahead and buy it for them. You did bring some money, right?” Tim nodded yes. “Well no problem then but if you need more let me know. Anyways I was going to tell you this is an important night for your popularity at school. I’m willing to bet that you and your friends there are the top dogs among the freshman, especially if you are going to be seen at a big school event like this. Remember have fun. Oh, and don’t forget to watch some of the game so you can see what you are supposed to know when you get to this point.” Raymond gave his son a quick pat on the shoulders and sent him off toward his friends. While he walked in the same direction at a much slower pace, to let them go inside and find some other friends to be around.

“Mr. Murphy? Ohh, Mr. Murphy!” The voice was coming from just inside the entrance gate from the same man Raymond had met at the concession stand of the school’s football field.

“Hey, Dr. Johnson, good to see you again. I was worried I was going to have to search for you all over this place. Glad you found me right away.” Raymond returned the offered handshake greeting.

“Oh, that’s okay; and please, call me Kevin,” Dr. Johnson leaned in towards Raymond to whisper a secret. “I was just keeping an eye on the door there, to make sure no one was getting in for free who were not allowed to get in for free. Every cent counts in fund-raising!”

“Well, since you bring it up, I talked it over with my wife; and yes, we would be interested in helping out. So, please send me an email for the next meeting, and we will be there with our schedules at the ready to make sure we can help.”

“Excellent! I’ll get that to you tonight. Oh, wait, will you be at the freshman football game tomorrow morning?”

“Yes indeed with my wife and our daughter Carmen. Tell you the truth my wife was a bit upset with me when I didn’t introduce you to her at the game last week. She was up in the stands and sent me to buy another order of nachos since the both of them had already commandeered mine when I met you.” Both men gave polite laughs.

“Well we can’t have them mad at us for stupid things when they have so much other things to be mad at normally. I’ll bring over my better half tomorrow and get them talking to each other to see if they get along. Okay, Raymond, enjoy the game. You might as well since once your boy starts playing, there will be lots of times where you won’t be able to just enjoy watching him playing.”

That comment struck a little close to home and Raymond asked Kevin to explain what he meant. “Well, once more people get to see how well your son plays the game, and they get to see just how great of a player we all think he may grow into becoming, they are all going to want to meet the man who brought him into the world. They’ll all be hoping to get you to convince him to go to this college or that college.

“Most will just want to congratulate you, like you had something to do with his success other than supporting him. But when the business of getting him into college brings the vermin out of the woodwork, well let’s just say it could get bad very quickly if you aren’t ready for it,” Kevin saw the confusion mixed with anger growing on Raymond’s face and explained himself.

“I saw it first hand, with my oldest boy Kevin. He was considered a three star player on most recruiting websites, but a few sites had him rated as a potential four star wide receiver prospect, if he went to the right offense. So we actually had about six or seven different schools seriously trying to get Junior to commit to their them. Luckily, in the long run, Junior chose a school not based on the football; but rather the science department, because he wants to become a podiatrist like his old man. I’ll tell ya, remembering that gets me through the hard days.” Dr. Johnson quickly wiped away all evidence of the single tear threatening to get away from his left eye and turned back to Raymond.

“Kevin was nowhere near as good as what your son has the potential to become. Plus, since Tim is a freshman, the real animals in the recruiting world shouldn’t start swarming around for a year or so. You’ll still have a couple of years to worry about that. I’ll say this about Coach Fontana’s rules; it helps the truly great player while he is a freshman. Then again, keeping them down as sophomore is just old thinking. So for now, it would take nearly every other non-freshman lineman at Roosevelt to either get hurt or be declared academically ineligible before Tim sees the varsity field as a freshman. But hey, you never know. Don’t worry about it, now. Just enjoy the game. Get a feel for the big leagues of high school varsity football! I’ll see you maybe later, or if not, definitely tomorrow at the freshman game.”

Raymond decided to take Dr. Johnson’s warning at face value and watched the portly, balding man dressed head to toe in Roosevelt paraphernalia from his “TR” emblazoned baseball cap to the red, white and blue shoelaces accenting his white tennis shoes make his way through the crowd. However, Raymond smiled to himself as he saw parent after parent make a quick about face when they saw him coming their way. He started walking toward the concession stand to find out for himself if the nachos were as good here as they were at the home field concession stand.

Johnnie Boynes had run up the stair steps dividing the sections of metal shelf seating popular in high school stadiums across the country. Instead of normal single steps, he was running up skipping two and three at a time. Johnnie reached the top of the steps and standing on the top row of the stadium looking down at the others.

“Hey, Mayhem, Come on get your fat ass up the steps! We gotta get you in shape for the season!” he yelled. Others already sitting down for the game started laughing at the teen’s hi jinks.

Mark Mazzurana was standing with Tim, Tony and Jeff and pointing to an empty section of available seating about a third of the way up from the bottom. “Dude, there is plenty of room right here and I don’t want to have to go up and down all these damn steps each time we want to get something to drink or to use the restroom.” Tony, Jeff and Tim were both nodding their heads in agreement.

Johnnie looked up to the sky and complained, “Freshmen, in high school, and they are already acting like they are in their fifties.” He hurried down the steps, this time taking them one at a time but still quickly, and rejoined his friends. Johnnie sat down next to Tim and one row above Jeff, Tony and Mark. But he put both hands on Mark’s shoulders and announced for every in the immediate area to hear, “Alright, but for that you are buying me a hot dog.”

The band was sitting in their previously roped off section of the stadium seating. All except the drum corps. Above the empty row of seats where the drum line would sit were the seats for the Patriots dance squad.

The drum line lined up on the track surrounding the football field and formed a spread out wall from the entrance to the field, marking the way for the football team to take the field and form up behind the giant “TR” breakthrough banner held up by the cheerleaders. It was a brilliant white and it easily captured the last brightness of the South Texas setting sun. On one side of the banner it read “We are,” in red type outlined in blue and proudly breaking up the white banner on the other side was a giant “TR” in blue outlined in red.

Just as Tim was getting settled in his seat and taking in the sights high school football but also the nubile flesh of the many high school girls in the stands surrounding him. Actually the girls were just sitting in the student section and after a quick look over his shoulder at the top of the stands, he smiled and leaned over to Johnnie, “Hey, check out who is sitting up where you wanted to sit.”

Johnnie turned around and noticed the dregs of high school. The gang members, the drug users, the troublemakers and the “often truant” members of the student body. He turned back around on his seat and whispered “Mea culpa!”

The drum line started in on the school fight song as the varsity football team began jogging out of the locker room, through the wire fence gate entrance to the field and behind the banner which the cheerleaders were now eagerly raising on two long wooden poles at least ten feet long. Since this was the first time Tim had been to a varsity football game, or any football game for that matter, he wondered how could the school afford to replace the banner after every game since it was obvious they football team were about to run right through it. As the first players pushed through, he was thankful he didn’t ask anyone about it since he could now plainly see the banner had a Velcro division through the middle, which tore apart as the players stampeded toward the sideline.

On the other side of the field, the Warren Warriors were going through their own banner. Their banner was obviously on paper as they drew “Beat Roosevelt!” and underneath that was an even more ornate “Bludgen the Rough Riders!”

The Warren drum line played their own school fight song and the team burst through the banner raining torn paper all over the field and the players who were behind the leaders of the stampede. After the last player ran through the now nude ten foot poles, the cheerleaders began policing the shredded paper before it blew all over the field.

Right about that time, Tim noticed the sun had almost completely gone down on the horizon and the stadium lights turned on while both teams were going through warm up exercises. Without a cloud in the sky and the temperature at a comfortable range, Tim and his friends sat back to enjoy watching their varsity brothers beat down the invaders from Warren high.

Tim and his friends, after purchasing some more refreshments and after acknowledging the existence of any other freshmen they may recognize in attendance at the game around the concession area. made their way over to where Tim’s dad said he would be sitting.

“Hey, son, up here!”

Tim heard his father’s voice first and then saw him sitting about half way up the stands. He was surrounded by several other people who Tim figured to be other parents since they were all wearing the same white polo shirt with “TR” in blue outlined in red with “Booster” centered underneath. They were all smiling and to a person, each one of the freshmen players stopped when they saw them all.

“Okay, now that is freakin’ creepy,” With a wave of his hand and some quick comic timing, Johnnie had won over the boosters. The smiling continued but it was now accompanied by different levels of laughing. The guys took that as a sign it was safe to join Tim’s father in the spaces vacated around him.

Tim’s father leaned over snagging a nacho out of his son’s plate and whispered to the guys, “Well I can tell you boys one thing, you guys are very popular among this crowd.” He saw the confusion on each boys face and continued. “We will talk about it on the way home.” He than sat back and spoke a little louder for the benefit of the rest of the crowd. “So, boys, what did you think of the first half?”

To a one, each guy looked over at Tim forcing him to be the voice of the group. After all it was his father asking the question.

“Well, I hope we have an easier time of it tomorrow, than the varsity is having tonight.”

“Well, I’m giving you the plays to run, son, but your boys just aren’t getting the job done!” Head Coach “Big” John Fontana was yelling full blast at his assistant coaches. All the football coaches were currently huddled in the shower section of the home locker room while the varsity team were getting treated for injuries and re-hydrating themselves after a hard fought first half of football against Warren High School. The players before the game were told what to do at halftime since their time was limited. They knew to gather in their general area where they set off from before the game started. The coaches would correct problems they could see their players committing during the game and also help form new plans of attacking the other team to try to win the game. The players knew the coaches would figure out what to do then inform them of any changes to the game plan or changes in personnel. But at the moment, each player was quietly acting like they were not listening to the arguing coaches from out of the shower area.

“I know you have given plays coach, but those plays ain’t working and you are still trying to run them, even though they are getting stopped, easy! We should go ahead and open it up a little, get away from the cookie cutter plays, and work on some more passing. Maybe even some reverses.”

“See, look at this,” offensive line coach Greg Fontana showed his father and head coach, a clipboard indicating the Warren defenses’ use of nine and on a couple of instances even ten out of eleven defenders waiting for a run. “Warren is sitting nine men in the box, most of the time! They’re waiting for us to run either option left or option right. It’s like they know your playbook, and are reading it right along with you. Coach, you gotta jumble it up a bit, and throw something at them they aren’t expecting. We are no longer making it hard for them to figure us out, when you are following the same play call formula you have been using for ... for the last twenty years!”

Greg Fontana is the head coach’s son, and also offensive line coach for the varsity team. He has been coaching with his father at Roosevelt for fifteen years. Greg Fontana graduated from Roosevelt then spent fours years at the University of Texas where he graduated with honors and was an All-American offensive lineman his junior and senior seasons. He was drafted to the National Football League at the top of the third round by the San Diego Chargers and spent ten years as the anchor of the right side of their offensive line. After retiring from pro football, Greg wished to go back to school to get a Master’s degree in child psychology with the hopes of getting into that field. But his father called and asked him to come home and join his staff as the offensive line coach and assistant offensive coordinator. Greg Fontana did so happily but is just now starting to come to terms with the whispers about his father that others have been trying to point out to him.