Mayhem in a Pill
Copyright© 2015 by Shinerdrinker
Chapter 95: US Navy All-American Game - Arrival
The students of Roosevelt High School barely had time to celebrate their state championship before the end of the semester and final exams ushered in the holiday vacations.
However, the football season was not yet over for many of the best high school football players in the country. The US Navy All-American Bowl, hosted yearly in San Antonio, helped the Rough Riders coaches finagle an opportunity for their best high school football player to showcase his talents against the best junior and senior players from across the country. Since it was local, they wouldn’t have to fly the young man out for the week, but he would get one of the free rooms the hotel sponsored for the game. It would give the coaches a chance to show the money men that Tim “Mayhem” Murphy should be shown on TV playing football as often as possible.
Two weeks before the beginning of practice for the US Navy All-American Bowl and a week after the visit from Coach Barrett and Coach Mathis, Tim’s former freshman football head coach called their prospective player during a coaches meeting to discuss the week of practice, the hundred or so high school football stars coming into town, and, of course, the game itself. There was still one open position and one person to confirm joining for practice for the week, and possibly playing in the game.
“So, Tim, if you are still wanting to come play in the game, we had a couple of guys pull out for different reasons, and now we have a room at the hotel available for you to get the full experience. It’s still a great opportunity for the national audience to see how good you really are, and it’s also a chance to be taught by some of the best coaches in high school football from all across the country. Hell, that’s why I’m putting up with all the headaches,” Coach Barrett joked. “So are you ready to play a little bit more football this year?”
Tim was having trouble controlling the broad smile shining across his face. After the meeting in his family’s dining room, Tim did more online research about the game. He even watched a few years’ worth of games, still available online, from when it was officially called the US Army All-American Football Bowl. The games were great, and the guys looked like they all had fun. The games proved to be a who’s who of future college football stars, and many of them were now playing in the NFL. The idea of practicing with the best of the best became extremely appealing to Tim. He looked forward to seeing if he was as good as the experts said he was.
“Phew! Talk about a little extra incentive, huh? Oh, absolutely, Coach, I’m in! I can’t wait!” There was cheering in the background on the phone after Tim spoke. He didn’t realize others were listening in on the coach’s end.
“Excellent! You can get to know a few of the fellas who will be wondering, ‘who the hell just tossed me aside like a sack of potatoes?’” Both Tim and several other voices on their side of the call laughed heartily.
“Tim, I’ll swing by your house tonight, and I’ll bring the insurance paperwork and all that jazz as well as the itinerary for the week. How’s that sound?”
“Perfect, Coach Barrett, and thanks for sticking your neck out for me on all of this,” Tim offered wholeheartedly.
“Oh, not a problem, son. Heck, I’m a little anxious to watch you against these other guys. It’s gonna be fun.” Coach Barrett said honestly. “And, hey, Tim?”
“Yes, sir?” Tim answered.
“Have fun with all this and try to get to know a couple of the guys. They’ll let you in on some of the craziness that’s gonna be coming at you when these colleges decide to come after you with both barrels blazing.”
Tim couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Yes, sir.”
“Alright, I’ll see you later tonight, and we can go over the information and get it filled out for you and to the right people as soon as possible. See you later!” The coach hung up as the volume in whatever room quickly rose from competing conversations.
Later that night, Tim opened the door for his coach, who brought the information packets and various forms for Tim’s parents to sign.
Coach Barrett regretfully had to turn down an offer to join Tim’s family for dinner. “With all the extra work during the school year for football as well as the extra work I’m doing now for this game, whenever I have a chance to take the little wife out for a good evening on the town ... well, I don’t wanna miss it,” Coach Barrett offered as his reasoning.
Tim’s father was still finishing the final pages when he asked a question. “Coach, why do you do it? I mean all the extra time and the attention pulled away from your own family. I guess I’m asking, just why?”
Coach Barrett was taken aback for a moment and even leaned back in his chair. “You know,” he was going to give a glib answer when his attention turned to Tim. “It’s because of him ... and kids just like him. You could probably get the same kind of answer from any teacher who has spent longer than ten years teaching. If they don’t already love it, then they’d get out well before then.”
“It’s because of kids like Tim here — the exceptional. Of course, my point of view is focused on athletics. Meeting someone like Tim, who is going to have the whole world open up to him, is an extraordinary thing to watch. I guess my ego could also always use a nice pick-me-up when I see him achieve so much, and think, maybe I had a little bit to do with it along the way.”
Tim’s father paused while considering his coach’s answer, immediately stopped reading the legalese, turned to the final page of the packet, signed, and handed over the paperwork.
“Coach Barrett.” Raymond stood and approached the coach, who also stood up. “I’m trusting you with my boy. Make sure he represents himself, his coaches, and his school to the best of his ability.”
The two men looked into each other’s eyes for a moment and shook hands in agreement. It was symbolic of what men in the Old West would have done to buy or sell large swaths of land. “I also give you permission to give a him good kick in the rear when necessary.” Raymond smiled, letting the brief seriousness dissipate.
Tim and his father, Raymond, were quiet for most of the drive, except for the Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil,” featuring the exceptionally loud and boisterous “ooh oohing” of the Murphy men. The SUV hustled down the highway toward downtown San Antonio, deep into the heart of the tourist traps of the San Antonio Riverwalk hotel and, of course, the Alamo.
Mr. Murphy’s luxury SUV navigated the traffic into the semi-circular drop-off and pick-up driveway at the Hyatt Regency San Antonio Riverwalk. Several people were congregating inside and outside the building, wearing Polo-style shirts that prominently proclaimed their love for various colleges and universities across the country.
“Wow. I guess hunt is on.” Tim’s father joked as he pulled in line to offload his son. “Hey, I wanted to tell you something. I’ve been thinking about this ever since you told me about this special game and what it means to those who are chosen to play in it,” Raymond started while inching their way into the semi-circular driveway of the hotel.
Tim sat quietly but turned to pay attention to his father.
“Be careful. These guys are getting ready for the next step up in their lives. If your skills outshine theirs, there could be trouble,” Raymond warned.
“I understand, but I ain’t gonna be a wallflower either. This is probably my first real chance to showcase myself to the football world,” Tim explained.
“No doubt, but you said it. It’s just your first time to make an impression,” Raymond emphasized. “You’ll have plenty of chances to wow the college football gods. Just do yourself and the school proud and try not to seriously injure some dumb ass who might try to outwork his own ego.”
“Okay, Dad, I hear ya, but hey, if someone steps up and out of bounds, I’ll end it.”
“Oh, absolutely. I’m just warning you that there could be others there doing the exact same thing as you, trying to make a name for themselves. They may come after you, and it might not be physical. Keep on your toes ‘cause someone might try to politic their way ahead of you. Just do your best, and I’m gonna trust your friends to keep you safe.”
Tim simply nodded his understanding, and a quick fist bump punctuated the conversation. With that, he grabbed the backpack holding his normal school laptop and a suitcase for the rest of the week. “I’ll call tonight and let you know how the first day went.”
Raymond shot his son a thumbs-up and easily merged with the traffic as Tim watched for a moment.
Tim lazily hoisted his backpack over his left shoulder and rolled his suitcase a step behind him on his right. None of the Polo-shirted college mafia in the unloading zone or in the lobby paid Tim any attention. There were definitely more than the usual number of exceptionally large teenage men roaming the area. Tim, while certainly huge, did not stick out too much.
Just inside the lobby, a large banner hung above a table surrounded by several more Polo-covered college mafia members meandering about lackadaisically. Tim made his way to a couple of bleach-blonde ladies, deeply engrossed in their own conversation, who were manning the check-in table. The table was drowning in pamphlets and materials prominently featuring the US Navy All-American Bowl logo.
“Hello, um, checking in, please.”
“Your name?” The college-aged woman sitting behind a small, hastily written and misspelled ‘All Star Football team – check in heer’ sign asked.
“Um, Tim Murphy,” he responded as he squinted at rereading the sign.
The long-haired bottle blonde looked up in surprise, and an insincere smile flashed on her face. When she turned her full attention toward Tim, he saw an immediate change in her demeanor, and he had to admit to himself that it did not help her in the attractiveness department. After Tim gave his name, he noticed a couple of others nearby, gathered in small groups, and each became more interested in who was checking into the hotel.
“Well, ain’t you just the talk of the town? I’ve been hearing your name from dang near everybody here behind the scenes and quite a few of the other players as well.” She took a moment to look Tim up and down and continued. “Well, I guess they do have something to talk about then, huh?”
Tim didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.
The staffer pulled out a folder of materials, all sporting the game’s logo. “My name is Tiffany. Okay, here is the itinerary for the week, and this is a brief message from the sponsors as well as a brief history of the game and some of the past participants,” she offered as she fanned through the many pages stuffed in the glossy folder.
“There.” She pointed to another blonde at the end of the table. “Take a seat for Ginger, and she can get your picture for your lanyard. It’ll just take a second.”
“Okay, try and act tough like all the other players do,” the short-haired bottle blonde Ginger directed, forcing Tim to smile a most not-tough-looking grin.
“Ooh wee, you got one there, Ginger!” Tiffany joked as the two admired the picture on the computer screen.
Ginger placed the picture in the correct spot in the Word document template for the lanyard before printing it. The printout did not take very long, and Ginger cut out the card and folded it into the lanyard before passing it to Tim. Tim glanced at the picture, decided it was fine, and slipped the lanyard around his neck.
“Wow, we didn’t even have to convince him to put it on. Not only is he an obvious hunk, he takes instructions well,” one of the girls joked.
“That just makes him hotter!” Now Tim’s propensity to turn red in embarrassing situations came into play. Both ladies giggled at the reaction to their teasing. “He kind of looks like a big strawberry.”
“Okay, and here is your room key. You are all checked in. You still have a couple of hours before the first meet and greet in the Garden Terrace right over there,” Tiffany pointed further into the hotel in a general direction, but Tim didn’t see precisely where she was pointing.
“Get your stuff put away in your room and plaster a smile on your face to meet the other players, coaches, and sponsors of this shindig.”
She leaned over, indicating Tim should lean in to hear a secret of sorts. “I have a feeling your hand might get tired from all the handshaking you, in particular, will probably be doing. You are a definite celebrity here for the week. Some might enjoy it; others might not. Be on your toes.”
She then dismissed Tim with a wink, and her attention was caught by another person approaching the table.
Stepping farther into the hotel, he saw the interior hotel structure centered around a large, open-air atrium on the bottom floor below where he had come in. It had direct access to the San Antonio Riverwalk, with easy in-and-out access to the hotel. A quick head tilt revealed that the atrium continued to the top floor, where, according to signage, the hotel’s pool was located.
Tim found the elevators and pressed the up button, secretly hoping he didn’t have to share one with anyone. An elevator next to him opened, and he walked in. As the mirrored doors quietly slid closed, he muttered, “Yes! Starting on the lucky foot, I guess.”
The elevator quickly rose to the eighth floor, where his room was located. The signs did a good job of helping to navigate the guest floor hallway with its very plain, soft gray-and-white color palette.
At a junction in the hallway, he noticed a combination snack-and-soda machine next to a free ice machine for the floor. With a furtive glance at the soda machine, a smile grew on his face.
“Well fuck me! I guess that’s more good luck for me!” Tim pulled out his debit card and tapped on the screen, ordering a couple of cans of Hawaiian Punch. They were both nice and cold, just how he liked them.
His key took a couple of swipes before the lock on the door audibly clicked open.
“I think I can live with this.” Tim looked at his room, featuring a single queen-sized bed, a small table with two sturdy-looking chairs that created a conversation nook, and, lastly, a beautiful view of the Alamo nearly perfectly centered in the window. Tim didn’t realize it, but he spent a minute just people-watching as they filed past the bastion of Texas history.
“I should probably take a picture for the family.” Tim pulled out his phone and took a picture of the room, followed by the view out the window. That was when he noticed a basket of snacks and sweets, wrapped in cellophane, on the desk, with a card sticking out of one side.
Tim decided a video might be better, then backtracked to the door and started it. “Okay, everybody, this is Tim, and here is my room for the next week.” He turned the phone to the desk and the basket once again. Then he opened the card to read along with everyone else who would see the video.
The handwritten card read, “Welcome to the US Navy All-American Bowl, Tim! We hope you can come out to visit to our facilities sometime and get a first-hand look at what we are trying to create here in San Antonio. Have a great time and a great game!” It was signed, ‘From the UTSA Roadrunner Coaching staff.’
“And so it begins,” Tim mumbled to himself with a slight smile.
The next stop in his video found Tim stepping toward the large picture window and looking out to a beautiful view of the Alamo just a few blocks away. “Whoa, nice view.”
After a few more seconds of filming, Tim thought to himself, “I think that’s enough.” He ended the filming and put the phone back in his pocket. He turned on the TV for a little bit of noise, letting the hotel information channel and Antonio Vivaldi’s “Spring” fill the room.
Tim, while he hoisted the luggage onto the table, swore he could hear his father giving him instructions on how to prepare his clothes after arriving at a hotel to keep them looking their best.
Tim’s father, Raymond, traveled often for work and considered keeping your clothes in top shape, especially when away from home, very important. “Make sure, when you get to your room, turn on the TV or the radio for some noise. It doesn’t matter what the channel is; you just need some noise. Then work on your clothes. Don’t let them sit in your suitcase.”
“Yep, right again, as usual,” Tim thought and smiled to himself.
Tim began by hanging up the jeans on the hangers he also packed. Then he removed the t-shirts, shorts, and socks and placed them in the small cabinet under the TV, not forgetting to refold them to get any wrinkles out. During the quick tour of the room, Tim noticed a small iron among the hotel’s personal supplies on the bathroom counter, but he decided to leave it alone and place his beauty-process bag, which he had been using ever since he started high school, right beside it. As he placed his toiletries in the bathroom, he noted the various soaps and shampoos the hotel left for its guests and was happy he had brought his own. It was now second nature for Tim to take a few minutes to ensure his appearance was above par, rather than the way he used to care for himself.
A quick check of the clock on his phone showed he should go ahead and make his way to the opening meet and greet downstairs, somewhere in the Garden Terrace.
Tim spent a few moments waiting in front of the elevator’s mirrored doors. He found himself nervously checking on his clothes and finally a check of his hair in the reflection. The elevator dinged its warning, and there were several boisterous laughs readily heard before the doors opened. Tim and Antwaun Gibbs were staring face-to-face with each other.
For a second, there was no telling what might happen next. Tim, in a nonchalant, non-confrontational tone, stepped into the elevator, remembering the meeting before the state championship.
“Antwaun,” Tim exclaimed and offered a firm and complicated handshake while stepping into the elevator. “I was hoping I’d get to see you here, but jeez, we haven’t even got to the meet and greet party. Go figure.” That was when Tim noticed the three other unmistakable football players in the elevator. While bigger-than-average men in their own right, they were far smaller than either Tim or Antwaun.
“Hey Champ, how you doin’?” Antwaun asked, once again taken aback by the friendliness of his championship nemesis. He was surprised to be able to answer, and even more surprised to find practically no animosity left from the game. Antwaun had heard a rumor that Tim might have been asked to come to the game, but just as a practice body. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here for this. I mean, you’re still just a freshman, right?”
“Oh, for sure. Yeah, the coaches asked me a couple of weeks ago, and we just got the paperwork done like last week!” Tim answered and looked at the others in the elevator. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the Garden Terrace through the elevator glass and several people congregating and polite conversations abounding.
“Oh, okay, there it is,” he said before turning to the others. “I wasn’t too sure where the Garden Terrace was, really. The chick downstairs just sorta waved to its location. I didn’t want to seem like a dummy or nothing,” Tim scoffed in his laid-back manner that normally gave off a calming feeling for others. Then, to break the ice, he questioned, “So, who are you guys?”