Chapter 45: Proper Motivation

Rodney Valentine’s throat was sore from his screaming. His knuckles were scratched and bruised from pounding on that poor, unsuspecting asshole who didn’t know any better. Rodney was especially pissed because no one could figure out why he was so pissed off in the first place.

Valentine and his posse of teammates arrived at the house party a little bit later than everyone else, as usual. It was an unwritten rule that the host of the party would have the game highlights from that weekend’s high school football games playing on a TV in whatever house these fifty-or-so high school kids were abusing that evening.

Rodney Valentine and the other Judson Rockets had won their game easily, with Rodney gaining the much-needed boost of higher stats the TV and internet reporters felt were so important. The kids outside offered their congratulations to the star running back and his teammates. When they kicked open the front screen door, no one cheered his arrival, unlike typical parties. The partygoers were desperately looking anywhere but at Rodney or his fellow conquering heroes.

Even Rodney noticed the glances people were making at the large screen TV on the other side of the living room. He and his entourage pushed their way through the mob of people desperately trying to get out of his way. A hurricane-proofed head of hair sat upon a chiseled-in-granite, squared-off jawline with a baritone voice sportscaster showing highlights from another football game.

Rodney watched a replay of the blue jersey, numbered ninety-nine, blow through three would-be blockers on a kickoff return. Number Ninety-nine then stopped and apparently yelled at the receiver who muffed the catch, the ball bouncing off his chest and into the outstretched arms of the opposite team for a touchdown. Rodney saw red when he saw the final score of fifty-six to zero and then interviews with coaches and even fans in the stands lauding the remarkable debut for Tim “Mayhem” Murphy. To put even more emphasis on the game, the sportscaster reported the final score of the Judson game without showing any further highlights, as if it was an afterthought.

There was pandemonium. It took three large lineman teammates to get Rodney out of the house before he hit any other people or destroyed any more property. They finally got him to calm down, throwing him into the bed of a pickup truck and the same three linemen sat on Rodney. His best friend got in his face and tried to calm the young man down enough to control himself.

They drove out into the county and stayed out on farm roads, eventually stopping in the middle of a large field. They did let Rodney get up and out of the truck and, after twenty minutes of trying to calm him down, they had finally succeeded.

“What the fuck happened?” Rodney Valentine looked like a young boy who had been caught by his mother trying to steal cookies out of a cookie jar. He was speaking so softly they almost didn’t hear him.

“Shit, man. You just beat the fuck outta some guy at the party and then grabbed their big screen TV off the wall and hurled it through the front window. I counted at least four others who got hurt trying to stop your ass,” one of his friends quietly explained. “It took all of us to get you out of there and get you under some control. What the fuck happened to you?”

“I just saw red. I just saw,” Rodney paused and exhaled his bottom lip was quivering. “I just saw ... I don’t know what I saw.”

The five Judson Rockets sat either in the truck bed or in the middle of the field, everyone trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. A phone ring broke the silence. Rodney looked up to the sky and muttered. “Ah shit. It’s coach.” He hadn’t looked at the phone, and the confusion on the others faces convinced him to explain while he fished his phone out of his pocket. “I know his ring tone.”

The phone screen still worked but it was cracked in several places. “Shit. I’ll have to buy another one.” He lightly touched the answer, and the yelling from the other end did not even have to be put on the speaker since everyone could hear the coach.

“What the hell is wrong with you, son? I’m getting all kinds of calls from people yelling about my star running back destroying some kid at a team party as well as causing thousands of dollars of damage to somebody’s house. Are you out of your ever-loving mind?”

“Coach, I dunno what happened? Seriously. I remember seeing red and, the next thing I know, I got a thousand pounds of good friends pancaking me into the bed of a pickup truck.”

The others could no longer hear the coach as it sounded like he stopped yelling. “No sir, just a few of the guys got me out of there.”

There was a slight pause, and Rodney looked up at everyone as they stared back at him. The guys then looked at each other.

“No, sir. I’d rather not say. It’s a teammate thing. I don’t want to get any of them into any trouble.” The yelling started up again.

“Well, son, I don’t give a good goddamn about you not wanting to rat on your friends! I’ll ask you one more time, who are you with?”

Rodney looked around at his friends and asked them, without verbalizing the question. Each one nodded subtly and without even realizing it, they each stood a little straighter. Rodney took another look at his friends and deeply inhaled. “No, sir. I can’t tell you who is with me or even where I am right now. I’m not sure where we are ‘cause I was in the pickup truck bed.”

Rodney paused again as he listened to his coach. He pulled the phone down and asked the driver if he knew where Coach Baker lived. One of the others nodded he did.

“Yes, sir. We can get our way over there. Give us about thirty minutes.” The “sooner” that blasted out of the phone told everyone to make their way to the coach’s house quicker. “On our way, Coach.” The call finished.

“Rodney, I can’t get in trouble. I helped you ‘cause we needed to stop you, but I can’t get in trouble with this. I’ll lose my scholarship,” one of the large men begged. A couple of the others doubled the sentiments.

“Um, no problem guys. We can drop you guys off back at your cars, and then we’ll go on to coach’s house. We won’t say anything about you. But seriously – thanks for helping – and I’ll take all the blame. It was my fault.”

“No shit, Sherlock! If any of this shit comes back on me, it could ruin my life. I didn’t hit anybody, and I sure as hell didn’t destroy the house while trying to calm you down. I hope you didn’t hurt that kid too much.”

The ride back to the house party was stopped prematurely when they could see police lights from a couple of blocks away. They dropped the two who wanted to go home about a block away from the house so they could walk to their cars. They then turned around and drove to the coach’s house.

Their coach was sitting on a porch swing, sipping out of a coffee cup that he put down when he saw the truck turn into the driveway. The three teammates walked to their coach, and Rodney stepped forward and stood in front of the others. His bottom lip was quivering, and the coach was about to light into them when he noticed the condition of his star running back. Rodney looked like a child who learned the rest of his family died in an accident. Jim Baker saw the hurt in their eyes and, instead of lighting into the young boys like he had been planning, he held all three of them as they lurched forward, crying and whimpering, into his outstretched arms. They eventually made their way into the house.

“Aw, but, Mom. I wanna tell Tim how awesome he was!”

“We all do, Carmen, but we have to wait until he comes out of the locker room first. You can’t go running into the boys’ locker room,” Juanita admonished her daughter but also gave her a small hug. The hug came after several people in the growing crowd giggled at the precocious girl.

“There he is!” Carmen shot out after her brother who still had not actually left the locker room but was making his way out. Tim’s little sister ran right up to him and immediately hugged her hero and big brother. “Tim, you played great tonight! There were people all around us saying how you were unbelievable and that they had never seen anything like you before!”

Tim bent down and returned his sister’s hug with just as much emotion as she gave to him. He then turned her around, lifted her, and sat her in her regular seat upon his shoulders where they watched several TV news cameras, as well as regular cameras, light up the Roosevelt boys’ athletic locker room exit.

Tim strolled into the scores of fans who waited to see the hero of the game. He even signed copies of the game program for several fans who brought them from the game. After finishing up with the fans, he made his way to his parents who were in a corner beaming as they watched their son deal with his newly-discovered celebrity.

“Hey, guys, how was your night?” Tim’s parent both laughed at their son’s joke. Juanita even gave one of her patented slaps on the shoulder.

“What? No big party tonight?” his father asked.

“Nope. A couple of small parties but none of my friends are going, so there is no reason to follow along. Did you guys eat dinner?” Tim asked as he bowed back down to let his sister slide off his shoulders once they reached the family SUV.

“Yep, we went to McDonald’s!”

“Oh really, what did you eat?”

“I got a Happy Meal, but I didn’t like the toy, so I gave it to another kid who was there.”

“Aw, that was a nice thing to do. Did the kid say thank you?” Carmen nodded her head ‘yes.’

“Didn’t they feed you a pregame meal? I know the Booster club raised a lot of money for that very reason,” Raymond asked as they got themselves seated in the car. Juanita sat in the back seat with her daughter and let Tim have the passenger seat up front.

“Yeah, they did. It was good, but I’m still kinda hungry.”

“Well, what about you get what we had and take it home?” Raymond offered.

“Ooh, sounds good.”

“Can I get some ice cream?” Carmen asked.

“Yeah, can I get some ice cream, too,” Juanita begged but sounding like a little girl.

“Well, I guess so since you were both perfect girls at the game tonight. I didn’t have to stop either of you from running onto the field this game.” Everyone in the car shared a laugh from Raymond’s joke as they pulled out of the parking lot and headed home.

“Now, tell me, son, from the beginning ... what happened?” Coach Baker asked as the boys sat in the coach’s dining room. Mrs. Baker was brewing some hot tea for the boys, to calm them all down.

“Coach, I honestly can’t remember. I can remember getting to the party a little bit late, but I always get to the party a little bit late,” Rodney Valentine began to explain. “I don’t think it was anything to do with that guy.” Rodney slouched more into the dining room chair and put his head on the table and tried to cover it up with his arms. He then mumbled, “I don’t think he did anything.”

“I think it had something to do with what we saw on the TV when we came in. That’s when you started screaming and beating up that kid when he asked you what was wrong,” one of the other players pointed out.

“Yeah, I saw you look at the TV then start going off on that kid. It was kinda scary,” the other player added as he took another drink.

The coach sat back and looked at his wife standing in the doorway watching these three boys try to figure out what happened. “So, what was on that could have set you off?” Coach Baker’s voice mumbled as he remembered what might have happened.

He looked back up at Rodney and asked him a question he was pretty sure he had the answer to already. “Did you see the reports from the Roosevelt game tonight?”

The lights clicked on in all three of the boys’ faces. Each one remembered the story about the amazing debut game from Roosevelt’s Tim Murphy. Coach Baker could almost see the anger take over his star running back’s body.

“That son of a bitch is gonna try to wreck my perfect season, Coach. The little mother fucker is gonna try to take away my MVP trophy. Nope! Not gonna happen!” Rodney snarled and pounded on the coach’s dining room table. Everyone in the room leaned away from the explosion of anger from Rodney at the mention of Tim Murphy.

Coach Baker figured he was going to react badly, so he jumped up and grabbed the young man in a full-body hold to keep him from hurting himself or anyone else. It was the correct thing to do. Rodney felt someone holding him, so he got ready to go nuclear but, luckily, he recognized who it was immobilizing him. He immediately calmed back down.

A few seconds passed, and the emotions began to unwind.

“Well, I guess that answers what happened,” Coach Baker said as he sat back down and moved his chair closer to Rodney’s. He made a point of looking Rodney dead in his eyes. “But, son, listen to me. That Roosevelt boy isn’t stopping you or your teammates from getting a perfect, undefeated season. That boy ain’t keeping you from getting some MVP trophy,” Coach Baker explained to his star running back. Rodney looked confused, not believing what his coach was saying.

“Yes, he will coach. These fellas are great,” he said, pointing to his teammates sitting at the table, “and they will be playing college ball for sure in the future, but that piece of shit is gonna lie, cheat and steal his way to stopping me from a perfect season and maybe even a state championship.” He caught the surprised eye of one of his friends sitting at the table. “I mean us going undefeated and winning a state championship.”

“No, he is not, son. The only one who is gonna stop all this is you.” The players all looked confused at what they just heard from their coach. “Do any of you think there won’t be punishment for y’all from what happened tonight?” A bewildered look was entrenched deep in the faces of his players. Coach Baker did not like it. “Boys, I’m leaning towards all three of you sitting out for a game.”

The three stood up at the same time, “What?!”

Coach Baker just pointed at the seats without saying anything. The boys got the message and sat back down. “You two,” he said looking at the two offensive linemen. “You two probably just stopped Rodney from hurting anyone or damaging anything else. You two might be okay. I have to find somebody with the truth of what happened at the party to make sure you boys were tryin’ to stop Rodney, or were you helping him destroy those people’s house?”

Coach Baker focused all his attention back onto Rodney. He seemed to be visibly shrinking under his coach’s scrutiny. “But Rodney, you best hope those people who own the house and the parents of that boy don’t press any charges against you, or missing a couple of football games will be the least of your worries.”

The doorbell rang, and Mrs. Baker went to answer it. Everyone sat quietly and took a sip of their drinks, waiting to see who was at the door. “Sure, come on inside. He is right in here.” Mrs. Baker’s words were all the conversation the people in the dining room heard. Around the corner came a police officer in full uniform. An older man in a suit and a police badge hanging on his belt followed the officer.

“Well, speak of the devil. Hello, Sheriff Jones. I can only guess what brings you by this time of night,” Coach Baker declared as he shook hands with the older gentleman.

“Well, I rightly figure we ALL know why I’m out here tonight. These are the three boys I was looking to see.”

The three teammates were now openly shaking nervously as the officer made his way around to the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room. He was moving to make sure neither of the three boys tried to run away. Coach Baker scooted his chair back and moved to another on the farther side of the table. He was offering his seat to Sheriff Jones. While figuring out the new seating chart, both officers politely turned down any refreshments.

“Coach. I figure you’re getting a first-hand accounting of what happened tonight at a victory party for your boys. Good win, by the way, boys.” All three players mumbled thanks.

The sheriff pointed to the two offensive linemen. “Coach, I hope you wasn’t puttin’ the fear of God into these two because, from what we saw, they did the right thing.” The two linemen visibly relaxed in their seats.

“What do you mean, from what you saw, Sheriff?”

“Oh, the family had a security system that was videotaping every room in the house when it became apparent that their beautiful pride-and-joy of a daughter had a party that blew up into something that was supposed to be just her and a couple of her cheerleader friends,” Sheriff Jones explained.

He turned to look at the two boys. “Is that one of yours’ truck parked out front?” One of the linemen raised his hand. “Well, you two, I figure, got a nice fresh bowl of scared straight, and it’s gonna be a while before either one of you get into this kind of hot water again, huh?”

The two could not speak, so they just nodded their heads, agreeing with the Sheriff. “You two go on home. I hope you can enjoy your win a little this weekend, but I’d suggest going straight on home.”

Both boys got up from the table and thanked Coach Baker and his wife for their help and hospitality. When they passed their star running back, they both offered and returned fist bumps and made their way home.

“As for you, son, I can’t believe how much of an unbelievably lucky of a son of a bitch you are.” The confused look had infected both the coach and his wife. “The people who own the house understand that this was something that was not usual behavior for Rodney, so they have decided to cut their losses. They are simply asking that he does not come to their home ever again.”

“Are you sure, Sheriff? From what I understood, he broke some furniture, some electronics and a couple of windows when he went all ape shit,” Coach Baker asserted.

“You got it, Coach. The house owners are not pressing charges, and what gets under my skin is that the parents of the young boy...” the sheriff stopped as he checked a notepad he kept in his back pocket. “His name is Tommy Jenkins. He’s a junior and plays trumpet in the band, but his parents are big-time supporters of the football program.”