Chapter 34: Run-ins at Practice

The sunny skies and warm air were attracting more and more people to the park as the day wore on. After lunch, Ashley, Lenore and I decided to avoid the growing lines on the slides and spend several hours in the wave pools and on the endless river. We woke Angelique and spent the next three hours splashing each other as we explored the park.

We stayed at the park until the setting sun and diminishing light signaled that it was time for the park to close. Morgan gathered everyone up and led us back to the minivans. I had to carry an exhausted Angelique. She drooled on my shoulder as we crossed the parking lot.

The drive home was even quieter. Becky drove the minivan Ashley, Lenore and I rode in. Kelsey switched minivans and rode with us rather than stick around Letty for the ride home. Everyone was feeling the effects of too much sun. Lenore and Ashley fell asleep before the minivan was on the freeway. I ended up talking to Becky for the ride home.

After that trip, the rest of the summer passed by in a blur. Jason and I both started exercising even more as we tried to get into shape to play football. Jessica was challenging us to keep up with her as she pushed her own endurance training. She could not make the football team, but her plan was volleyball in the fall, basketball in the winter and then soccer in the spring. She wanted to impress her teammates and was really pushing to get into the best shape possible.

Mike remained on the run. His gang tried the same drug trick in Chicago. Their quality control must have suffered because within a week five people had died after taking the drug. This included one gang member who took it to prove to his girlfriend that the drug was safe. Mike witnessed that death and immediately took off for Detroit, hoping to get lost in the crumbling city.

Kelsey, Millie, Letty and Matilda decided to try out as cheerleaders. They told me after a rather strenuous practice while I was cooling down and chatting with Sergeant O'Malley. The sergeant smiled, and two days later produced a spry woman of forty-two who claimed to have been a cheerleader when she was in high school. I cannot say if the woman had that experience, but she soon had all of the girls practicing tumbling runs that terrified me. Millie struggled a bit, but her efforts to diet and exercise showed. She could actually run and jump and her growing smiles at each success only spurred all of the girls to try even harder.

Pickups continued in town. We were so busy that we rarely went to the mall, and the closest anyone came to one was the day Morgan was passing through a drive-thru to get his morning coffee and the building was suddenly behind a pickup interdiction field. Becky and Beatrice started riding with him in the mornings. The near miss had left both women shaken despite Morgan's clear statement that he would have refused to be picked up without them.

We did spend some days at a local pool. Angelique loved to play in the water. Jason and I just enjoyed seeing all the girls in their swimsuits. Jessica joined us for many of these outings, and even got a very embarrassed Millicent to wear a barely there bikini one day.

Still time passed and soon it was the opening day of football practice. With neither of my parents available Beatrice helped me get all the required medical examinations and practice gear. Then Lenore drove Jason and me to the school on the third Monday in August. Jason jumped out of the minivan immediately, but I paused to turn to the car seat in the final row of seats and tickle Angelique's feet before I grabbed my practice bag and step out of the minivan.

I lifted the bag over my shoulder and then Jason and I began walking toward the auxiliary field where we had been told to report to join the junior varsity team. We had to cross the blacktop holding the outdoor recreational basketball courts before we approached the browning grass of the field. When we got there we found a line of about ten other freshman boys standing in front of a table. A rather tired looking man wearing a golf visor was sitting there and examining the papers the first boy in line held out for him.

Jason got behind me as we joined the end of the line. Neither of us recognized the boy in front of us, so we said nothing as the man behind the table set the copies of the paperwork in a folder and pointed behind him. I looked out over the field and realized that there were already around twenty boys stretching.

"We are early and others are already getting ready?" Jason asked. "I thought we'd be first."

"Not hardly," Roger Berkey's voice called out. He walked up to join us at the end of the line. "Some of the sophomores arrived early because they want to impress the coaches and secure their starting spots."

I shrugged. "I thought playing time and starting was determined by effort and skill."

Roger laughed, it sounded a bit like the barking of a sea lion. "Not a chance. Effort and skill help, but coaches will play the kids they like first." Roger cocked his head as he looked at Jason and me. "Wait, what are you two losers doing here? Neither of you played before."

"We wanted to try something new," I said.

Jason coughed. "Actually Mark here wanted to impress one of the cheerleaders."

Roger started barking again. "Mark with a cheerleader. The only thing more outlandish would be Jason here with one."

I looked at Jason. "I thought Letty was trying out this year."

"Yup," Jason agreed. "She's been practicing with Miss Sophia."

Roger looked at both of us as the line inched forward. "What position are you trying out for?"

"I figure I'll try for something simple, like guard," I said. "Why try to do something complex."

Roger started his barking laugh again. "You'll be pushed all over the field. I'll be happy to put you on your backside a few dozen times today in practice."

I had reached the head of the line. The coach looked up at me. "Name?"

"Mark Parker," I replied firmly.

"Position?" he asked.

"I'm willing to play wherever the coach thinks I can help the team," I replied.

"You have your paperwork?" he asked.

I held out the paperwork. He took the physicians report and double checked it. Apparently satisfied by that he examined the parental permission forms that Beatrice had signed for me. Once he was satisfied he used his left hand to point behind him. "Coach Grisham will start your evaluation."

I started to walk toward the indicated coach. He had a dozen boys kneeling in a semi-circle around him and was shouting as I approached. "You don't get to decide what position you'll play, that is for Coach Durant and I to decide. If you don't like our decision, you can request a meeting, but we don't have time for whiners. Football isn't a sport for whiners. We will listen to your reasoning, but if we tell you to play a position, you better practice hard and play hard, or you can ride the bench all season."

Jason came over and knelt next to me. Coach Grisham was looking back to the table as he counted the players waiting for him. Finally he nodded. "Fine, we have twenty-eight of you here now. We have a lot of things to see about your skill levels. First we are going to measure you, weigh you and check your sprinting speed. I want two lines in front of the two scales we have set up on the track."

The coach pointed over to the athletics track. Central High had one of those composite surfaced tracks that runners loved to use. Right now on the near turn there were two scales resting in the outer lanes. The other players leapt to their feet and ran over to the scales. Several adult males were standing near the scales. As Jason and I joined one of the lines we could see that the men were measuring and weighing out teammates before sending them to the starting blocks where they lined up again.

"Wow," Jason said. "They are serious about this."

"I thought the JV only got to have two coaches," I whispered to him as the line started to move forward.

One of the men helping measure must have heard me. He was holding a clipboard and recording the height and weight of each player. When I turned back to look at the line he smiled. "We played for the team years ago and volunteer to help out," he reported before turning back to pay attention to the men taking measurements.

A few minutes later I reached the front of the line. One of the men told me to stand straight with my hands out. He immediately held up a tailor's cloth measuring tape and started making measurements. "Height, Five foot six."

The man pushed me forward until I was standing on the scale. A new man looked at the reading. "Weight. One fifty-seven."

"What's your name?" the man with the clipboard asked.

"Mark Parker," I said as I stepped off the scale. Jason was stepping up to be measured, so I loitered in the area to see how he compared to me.

Jason's measurement went quickly. He had a huge smile on his face when he got off the scale after measuring five foot eight and weighing one ninety-five. "I'm bigger than you," he said.

"We have the sprint still to do," I reminded him. "Let's get in line."

We made our way to the area where the runners were starting. There were four others ahead of us. The man there pulled them out in pairs and would call out their names to another volunteer with a clipboard. Next they counted down to a go signal and sent the two boys running down the track. I could see two additional men holding stopwatches and reporting the results. Jason groaned as we saw a second pair of boys race to the ending. Then it was our turn.

"You two," the man organizing the start said. "Come forward." He pointed at me. "Your name?"

"Mark Parker," I said.

The man scowled. "Shout it, my voice is tired and Frank needs to know who you are."

"Mark Parker!" I shouted as commanded.

The man had me stand in the tracks second lane and then pointed at Jason. "Jason Roberts!" my friend said.

"Lane five," the man said pointing to a spot on the track. He looked down the track. I concentrated on listening to him as I began mentally picturing my first steps once he told us to start.

"They're ready," the man said. "One time, as fast as you can. Ready ... Go!"

I dug in with my left leg as I started running. Jason cursed from behind me as I accelerated down the track. It seemed like a moment after I started running I was crossing the line where the men waited with their stopwatches. One looked at his and then turned to the man with the clipboard. "Mark Parker, four six two."

I groaned as the man with Jason's time turned to the volunteer recording times. "Jason Roberts, five zero four."

"You are slow," I said as Jason and I jogged to where Coach Grisham has started to form another semi-circle of kneeling players. He was scowling at the process as Jason and I found a clear spot and knelt.

"I slipped a little when the man said go," Jason muttered. "You didn't do too badly."

"Top guys aim for four three," I said. "I wasn't close."

"You are a freshman," Jason pointed out.

"So are you," I whispered back.

"Quiet!" Coach Grisham bellowed. "We have a couple more guys getting measured, but we can start with the positional testing. If you are here for quarterback, running back or receiver head to first base."

"This is football not baseball," one of the other boys shouted.

"We're using it to gather!" Coach Grisham bellowed back. "If you want to play one of those positions move!"

About two thirds of the boys got up and ran over to the baseball diamond, gathering near where first base would be. I could hear an adult voice screaming at them to get into a line. Coach Grisham looked around at the nine boys left waiting for his direction.

"You all just volunteered to try out for lineman," he said. "We'll start with a simple task. We have a single man blocking sled. Each of you will line up and on my whistle hit the sled with all your power until I blow the whistle again for you to stop. Any questions?"

No one spoke. Coach Grisham nodded. "I like a group that listens. Now as I said, you'll line up in front of the sled." He walked over to the sled and stood about five feet away from the pad. "Go into a set stance. You can put one or two hands down if you want." He bent over and put his left hand on the dirt. "When I blow the whistle, you hit the sled with all your might."

Coach Grisham burst out of the crouched stance thrusting his right shoulder into the blocking sled. It rose up from the ground as Coach Grisham's feet clawed at the ground. He held the sled in the air for almost a minute before relaxing and allowing it to fall to the ground. He turned back to us and smiled. The man was breathing easy as he pointed to the sled. "That's how you do this." He said.

I got up to get to the front of the line. The coach put a hand on my shoulder. "You should be with the skill players," he said. "You are a bit small for this."

"I want to play and I'll get a better chance here," I said as I set my feet and placed my left hand on the grass.

"Fine," Coach Grisham said in a scornful voice. "I'll let the rest of the boys here laugh at you."

The whistle blew and I drive my legs into the ground as I raised my shoulders up to impact the sled. It was far heavier than the coach had made it look, but I dug my feet into the dirt and stepped forward while using my hips to help increase the force I was using to push the sled. It rose up off the ground and slid away as I continued to drive my legs. I managed to keep it in the air, but was starting to fall back against the weight when the whistle blew again.

The weight I was facing was heavy and I knew if I just relaxed the sled would drive me into the ground. I tried stopping my legs as I lowered by body and allowing the sled to return to the earth. Once it was on the ground I stepped to the right. My heart was racing as I took about seven steps before turning back to look at the group.

Coach Grisham was standing and holding the whistle in his hand. He seemed surprised by my efforts. Nothing was said and he shook his head and turned back to the line, where Jason was now waiting.

"It was a fluke," the coach muttered before blowing the whistle.

Jason exploded into action. The sled jumped into the air when his body struck it and he kept pushing it higher was the coach watched. Finally Coach Grisham seemed to remember that he had to blow the whistle. He fumbled it once before bringing it to his lips and sounding the end of the drill.

My friend just jumped to the side and allowed the sled to crash to the ground. Coach Grisham immediately jumped forward. "Never just let the sled drop!" he screamed. "That can be dangerous. Mark had the right idea, let it down slowly."

Jason just joined me at the side of the sled as the other players went through their attempts at the sled. Two of the others pushed it almost as high as Jason did, but it was soon clear that Jason was one of the best in the group. He watched with a growing smile on his face.

"What?" I asked.

"You are showing up guys twice our size," Jason said as one of the boys tumbled to the ground under the weight of the sled.

"What?" I asked.

"Only three others got a better push than you did," Jason said.

"Four, you did a lot better than I did," I replied.

The last boy took his shot. He got a great initial push, but slipped back down almost immediately. Coach Grisham blew his whistle. "That's it here. Now join up with Coach Durant for some drills."

He pointed back to where the group had been originally gathered. A new coach in a red shirt stood there as several players wearing jerseys knelt and waited. Jason and I started to walk to him.

"You think you are all hot," someone whispered in my ear. "You'll regret trying out."

"Why would I do that?' I wondered aloud. "So far this has been interesting and fun."

"And a lot easier than the workouts than O'Malley put us through on the days he showed up," Jason added. "He must have known too, because that sled was a lot lighter than I expected."

"I think it's more we knew how to push it. Remember all the workout time we spent with Paul. He did tell us that he helped players on his high school team," I reminded Jason.

A heavy hand fell onto my right shoulder. I was shoved forward. Once again all of the exercise over the summer helped me as I only need three steps to regain my balance and look back. One of the boys who had struggled on the blocking sled was standing there glaring at me.

"Wimp," he hissed. "You have no business trying out as a lineman."

"I don't see how you get an option to tell me what I can or cannot do," I replied. "The coaches decide who they want to see keep practicing."