Chapter 75: Almost Forgot About Those Guys

The interview regarding the downtown riots was among the most significant gossip high school kids had ever devised. On Wednesday, The Big Stick, Roosevelt’s online student newspaper, published a well-written account of what happened from different points of view. The first was based on the TV interview, with Tim Murphy explaining in detail what happened, as he saw it, through that evening. Since everyone before then had heard of Tim’s part in the riots, the newly-arrived triplet sisters were rumored to be involved with riots breaking out between the cops. Olivia King’s & YungBalla69’s crews had the rumor mill threatening to spin into orbit.

The triplets were already an oddity for the high school — three look-alike sisters who resembled Hollywood versions of high school girls. When everyone read about what happened from their point of view, Tim Murphy’s reputation shot out into deep space. Girls in the school were busily aligning themselves to become his girlfriends. When the story of how he defended not only his family but the Matthews family came out ... well, there were discussions in private between several teachers of the female persuasion about if they had an opportunity, would they try out the young Mr. Murphy for themselves.

From Tim’s point of view, he was happy the rest of the student body was leaving him alone for a couple of days so that he could concentrate on the fast-approaching first playoff game. He realized Monday night while trying to fall asleep, that with all these interviews and rumors surrounding him, he was not paying attention to the playoffs. They were preparing to go up against the Warren Warriors for the second time this season. The first time saw the Rough Riders being easily beaten on the field. The Riders lost that game 30-0. Pandemonium erupted, though, when news of racist taunts aimed at various Roosevelt players and hurled by members of the Warren team were recorded during the game. Sports pundits state-wide declared the Riders won in life by not retaliating to the racist rhetoric. That wasn’t easy, and it showed strong leadership within the Rough Rider football team.

Now that the Rough Riders and the Warriors were scheduled to battle again, the spotlight of the state playoffs shined directly onto the game. For many, the focus would be on this game primarily because Mayhem Murphy would see his first playoff action and play against better players. At least, that is what the sports reporters and internet pundits said publicly.

Tim Murphy was sitting in front of his locker and rewatching news footage from the night of the blowout loss to Warren. It was before Tim was brought to the varsity squad as a freshman, which seemed like a lifetime ago. Mayhem picked up his helmet and walked with authority toward his usual spot on the blue-carpeted floor of the football locker room area. His place was right in front of the whiteboard used by the coaches for diagramming and designing plays, announcements, and as an inexpensive area for temporary and playful graffiti.

Tim paused the video he was watching and placed his iPad in his helmet, which he also put on the floor underneath the whiteboard. He picked up red and blue dry-erase markers from the tray attached to the board and began drawing on the board. It took a few seconds for anyone to notice, but soon enough, a small audience watched as Tim presented what he hoped would inspire the team. The audience was quiet while Tim worked. After a few minutes, Tim’s drawing became apparent to all in the locker room. He had drawn a stylized “48,” shadowed in blue, but the numbers looked like red Mylar balloons. The subtle shading in blue made the “48-0” pop off the stark white background of the whiteboard.

“Big” John Fontana, the head coach, and his son Greg, the offensive line coach, were both nodding in appreciation and smiling as they disappeared into the coach’s office. The coaches would never admit it, but they were probably as nervous as their players.

Tim left his artwork on the whiteboard for everyone to see before they set off for the playoff game. A stray thought fluttered across his mind when he sat back on the floor underneath his artwork to watch music videos to help hype himself up for the game. He decided there wasn’t a need anymore for musical hype, but it could help everybody. He did some quick video editing, turned up the sound, and propped the iPad on the whiteboard.

Tim pushed play.

Instantly, a group of players gathered to rewatch the news stories about the racist epithets hurled at them during the game. Tim had added on a couple of news reports about how coaches from teams across the country were envious of how the Riders did not fall for the low-hanging fruit and retaliate. They just kept playing. The locker room was filled with testosterone, ready to destroy ... anything! Big John strolled to the iPad and paused the video. The players let go of their frustrations and focused on the head coach.

“You know what I remember from that game?” Big John announced, quieting the football team while they situated themselves to listen to their coach. “I don’t remember the final score. I don’t remember the vitriol pouring out of every pore of those sad, pathetic, and little men. I do remember getting phone call after phone call, email after email, and TV and radio interviews talking not about the Warriors but talking about how the different coaches across the nation admired the Rough Riders.” Big John took a moment to let that sink in among his players and paced back and forth in front of the whiteboard.

“I remember the sense of pride I felt that everyone in my chosen profession was jealous of me. Not because my team of young men had won a football game. No. Every man and woman in my chosen profession took time out of their unbelievably busy schedules to let me know they were jealous of me for having a team of young men ready to face any adversity this world could throw at them.” Big John continued his pacing. “They were jealous because they could see I and my staff had succeeded at converting a loose collection of boys into shining examples of what a young man could become.

“Not because they fought back against diversity. Not because they fought back against tyranny. Not because they fought back against all the odds. No! Because they got hit in the mouth repeatedly and kept coming without giving up!” Big John paused his pacing and took a moment to stare each player in the eyes for an uncomfortably long time. “They were jealous because my team kept playing the game to the best of their abilities that night and did not fall into the simple trap of dropping to their level and fighting back. Sure, that would have been the easy route, but this team stood their ground, took repeated shots to their mouth, and followed their leaders’ example, and kept their focus.”

“Men, that was awe-inspiring, and that was what knocked me for a loop and forced me to see I was wrong. I was stuck in my ways and unwilling to make a change. Believe me, men. These coaches,” Big John pointed at the collection of coaches watching from the side of the room, “these teachers of men begged me to make changes, and to a one, each one worked to open my eyes. I was initially sad that I never saw what they were trying to show me. It took hundreds of calls and messages from fellow coaches nationwide to show me the error of my ways.

“That is why I agreed to change some of my long-time rules. That convinced me to listen to the men asking me for help. They asked me for a lifeline, and I’m sorry that I waited until the ship was almost sunk and going over the waterfall before I threw a lifeline, but dammit, I threw one! And now we are on the verge of the state playoffs! And the football gods have seen right to give us a worthy opponent of men. They have seen their way to give us a second chance.”

Big John put on a Cheshire grin and looked over the team and toward the coaches. “Let’s go and kick their asses,” he grumbled almost under his breath, but everyone heard him loud and clear. The passionate answer back was probably measurable on the Richter scale for earthquakes.

The other coaches began collecting the players and pushing them out the door with their equipment. They had to get on the school buses for the ride to their home stadium.

Big John grabbed Tim’s shoulder before he could run to his locker for his shoulder pads. He returned Tim’s iPad and leaned in close to his ear. “Maybe I went too far and should have saved that speech for the state finals.”

“I’m pretty sure I can speak for everyone, Coach,” Tim answered proudly. “I’d love to hear it again when we get there!”

Big John patted Tim on his back, sending him on his way.

“Wow, dad. That was awesome!” Greg Fontana raved as the father and son football coaches fast-walked to their office to pick up their gear.

Big John’s battle cry speech got the team on the busses about 20 minutes earlier than scheduled, but that didn’t matter. The Rough Riders were now ready to play.

At Warren High School, the aftereffects of the TV news-recorded racist taunts by Warriors players threatened the fabric of the entire athletics program. The players leading the racist diatribes were members of some of the high school’s elite and more politically-connected families. Those families fought back after their pride-and-joys got kicked off the football team. The parents had trouble seeing that what their sons said during the heat of the game was wrong.

The head coach was right to be worried.

He soon learned the school administration would not back his action. They matter-of-factly and strongly encouraged him to change the punishments from removal from the football team to a short suspension.

The principal had the nerve to explain to the coach afterward, privately, that powerful forces were at work behind everyone’s back, and it would be best to keep an open mind to reverse his decision. The coach, however, did not reverse his decision and outright announced the school administration was forcing the change of removals to suspensions. The coach had already started looking for another position elsewhere in the state.

Even with the controversy and the loss of players, the Warren Warriors still won games. Three weeks after removing four starters, two on the offense and two on the defense, two of them captains, the team was still undefeated and winning handily. It was a real credit to the coach, his staff, and the players.

The team was reformed before the four troublemakers returned. The new captains had remolded the team into a more cohesive unit built on trust and respect. The play on the field was completely different as well. Instead of everyone playing for themselves, each player on the team found ways to back up anyone else on the team needing help. They morphed into a team that could beat you ‘any which way but loose.’ They could run it right down the middle, air the ball out for quick and humiliating scores, run the ball wide and stretch the field to move it down the field, and they could completely shut down the other offense and win in a slug-fest.

After the news of Tim and the turnaround of the Roosevelt team, the stories of Warren and the complete redefinition of the team’s attitude were on everyone’s tongue in the area.

The Riders walked onto the field to prepare for the game. Usually, the two teams do this separately to ensure nothing begins before kickoff. However, when the Riders entered the field, the entire Warrior team stood two-deep on the fifty-yard line. It was a blatant show of disrespect ... or was it?

Tim recognized the small, shifty running back they played against in the JV game against Warren waving to get his attention. Tim called out for Frank and Troy to come with him to meet the Warren team at mid-field.

“Hey, fellas! We’ll be right back. Keep an eye on ‘em,” Tim announced to the team. He got a lot of grunts of acknowledgment.

“I recognize that little dude. He’s a running back we played against in the JV game. He’s okay,” Tim explained as they marched toward the collected team. It was easy to see the majority of the guys at mid-field began backing off when only three Rough Riders were making their way forward. They were watching out for any action against their new captains.

“Hey, Tim! I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me.”

“Oh, yeah. I remembered you. Did you guys need something?”

“Yeah, um, I just wanted to reiterate that the shit you guys went through is gone from our team. I wanted to tell you personally, from the captains, that shit won’t stand. If you hear it from our side, let one of us know, and we will squash it like a bug,” the running back said while pointing to the three other guys standing with him. They all acknowledged the sentiment with their versions of grunts.

There was a series of handshakes and hugs back and forth between the captains.

“Hey there, men. Is there a problem we need to discuss?” the referee asked quietly.

“None, sir. Just making sure all previous problems are squashed. We just want a good game,” Frank announced to the collection at mid-field.

“Well, if you guys are done fluffing each other, then whatta ya say we play a game?” the referee joked. The conference broke up with the Warren captains calling for their team to their locker room. The Rough Riders took to the field for warm-ups.

“Hey, coach?” Tim called out as he jogged to catch up to the head coach just before kickoff. “Coach, I’d like to play a little bit more offense if you don’t mind. I’d kind of like to put this game away quickly,” Tim suggested.

“I like the idea, son,” Big John stated, “but let’s stick with the script the coaches drew up for the team. If we need you, I know where to find you, so be ready,” Big John answered with a solid punch to the padded shoulder of his star player.

The newly-updated sound system kicked in for the first time, surprising everyone in the stadium – fans and players alike. The first song of the evening was easily recognizable and quickly set the tone early in the game. Jimmy Page’s pulsating guitars, John Bonham’s heavy drumming, and John Paul Jones’ driving bass formed the foundation for one of rock’s greatest hits. Robert Plant’s banshee wail announced to the uninformed what was about to come. Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song” roared out of the new speakers throughout the stadium, bringing the tensions to a full boil. However, it was working. The DJ booth did not turn off the song when the first play started. They only turned the volume down enough for the initial clash to be heard.

Tim used the music as intended and tore through the Velcro-closed inflatable tunnel shaped like a Big Stick – everything needed to be Theodore Roosevelt-associated. Detractors, some of which belonged to the team itself, said the team’s entrance onto the field looked more like one of Big G’s impressive bowel movements.

The rest of the Roosevelt Varsity football team was hard-pressed to keep up with Mayhem’s sprint onto the field, yelling, with arms in the air. Furthermore, when he exploded with handsprings in the middle of the field in full football pads, no one else was stupid enough to try it with him. They just clapped, yelled, and ran harder.

The scene was very different from the first meeting between the two teams. Cedric Dexter, the running back Tim played at the beginning of the season, was now the leader of the Warren Warriors. His speed and leadership with the others on the junior varsity, naturally, put him at the forefront of changes for the better within Warren High School. When he is expected to graduate and move to college football in two years, he will be a highly sought-after recruit and only get better.

The Warriors won the coin toss and elected to take the first possession, which meant Tim would get in the game immediately. He risked a glance at his coach, who was staring straight at him with a lopsided grin.

“Kinda worked out on its own, doesn’t it, son?” Big John asked with the smile still carved on his face. He then turned his attention to the rest of the team. “Go show them who we are, defense!”

The kickoff was far and accurate. It was precisely the kick everyone expected from Roosevelt’s exceptional kicker, Juan Cano. It forced the Warriors to start the game with the ball on their twenty-yard line.

The first play had everyone on edge, but the meeting during their warm-ups at the fifty-yard line had set the theme for the team leaders to develop the proper attitude for both teams.

Before setting himself up on the line of scrimmage, Tim yelled out to Cedric while he stood beside the quarterback in the shotgun formation. “I’d wish you a good game, but that’d be lying. It’s the playoffs, so take this seriously and do your job. You’re not winning tonight!”

“Don’t worry, Mayhem. I’m pretty sure my mom didn’t bring her favorite rolling pin,” Cedric yelled back before the snap. “She told me she went to the store for a new one, but she might have been lyin’, but you never know!”

There was a smattering of snickers and chuckles from both teams, and even the referee smiled before blowing the whistle to start the play. On the snap, both sides of the line of scrimmage shot out of their positions and attacked their opponents with as much power as either player could muster. Tim felt the guard on his left side pull out and run toward the guard on the other side. It left Tim to only deal with the tackle trying to push Tim aside with his long arms. Unfortunately for this offensive tackle, his initial punch was not very strong. Tim simply slapped him on the forearm, and the grunt from the blocker told Tim he wouldn’t be much of a problem in this play.

Tim zeroed in on the quarterback, who had his back to Tim because he was handing the ball off to Cedric Baxter. Cedric saw Tim coming over his quarterback’s shoulder and, right before Tim’s attack, shouted out, “Shit! Watch it!”

Tim flung his right arm over the QB’s right shoulder and reached around his waist with his left to secure, then quickly and violently wrenched him to the ground.

Unfortunately for Cedric, while concentrating on the rampaging Mayhem, he never saw the real problem coming right at him. Defensive captain and middle linebacker Frank Robinson timed his blitz perfectly. He and the guard shot right underneath the rampaging offensive blocker, and Frank ended up directly in front of Cedric with a clear shot before Tim could get there.

The collision of pads was a wonderful thing to hear for the Rough Riders. Frank caught the running back by driving his face mask dead center into Cedric’s chest. When they cleared the bodies, the referee set the ball down six yards behind the line of scrimmage.

Tim heard Cedric telling his quarterback, “It’s gonna be a rough night.” Tim smiled and rejoined the defensive huddle to celebrate the first big hit of the game and to get ready for the next one.

Cedric was right. The game was not close, and near the end of the third quarter, with the score 35 – 0, the Riders officially pulled their starters to keep anybody from getting injured. Unofficially, this was the first test for several members of the junior varsity who were now being promoted. Several of Tim’s friends from right after changing his body would get their first varsity football snaps in the playoffs. Tim joked to himself that he might have been more nervous than they were.

“Hamburger” Carlos Gomez, the freshman offensive tackle, replaced his older brother “Big G” Gabe Gomez at the right-side offensive tackle position. They stopped before each other while jogging onto and off the field. Tim didn’t hear what they said to each other since the fans recognized the change from the starters, but they hugged each other and then continued to their new respective spots. Tim glanced over at the older brother as he stood on the sideline. Tim could not tell the difference between tears or sweat from the massive Mexicano. Tim just smiled and put his attention back on the field.

Also coming onto the field was Jeff Green. Jeff played right-side tackle for the offense while on the freshman and junior varsity teams. On the varsity, though, he was lining up at the left tackle position.