Chapter 7

Dana’s turn:

Early on a Wednesday morning, and Ed was about to leave for work when my phone buzzed. Caller ID said “Auburn Soccer”, which made no sense to me, but I punched the speaker button and answered: “Dana Allen here. Good morning.”

The response: “Dana, thank you for taking my call. Ruth Blackwell here, and you may recall that I’m coaching the women’s soccer team.” Pause and a sigh. Desperation. “Dana, you’ll remember that we invited you to join us last year, and you declined. I find us in dire straits today, and I’m hoping you can help.”

I said, “Yes, ma’am. I’m honored that you’d remember. How may I help?”

“Dana,” she started, morphing from another desperation sigh. “Most of our team went out to dinner last night, and they evidently got a bad chicken salad. Food poisoning, and they’re all puking their guts out this morning. We’re down to ten fieldable players, and we have a game this afternoon. We’re in serious danger of default, and I HATE to default. Could you play for us?”

Boingggggg!!! Dana, you didn’t see THAT one coming, did you?

“Coach, are you sure I would actually be helpful? I know nothing about the other players, and nothing about what you’ve been teaching. I might hurt more than I could help.”

“Dana,” she said, “at this point, I’m just looking for someone who knows ANYTHING about the game, and someone who has some skills. I’ll play you mostly on defense, and we expect to lose. The point is, we have a couple of seniors who deserve a chance to play, rather than default.”

“Gosh, Mizz Blackwell. When you put it that way, I accept. What do I need to do?”

She said, “Show up at the field house at one pm. We’ll get you a uniform, shin-guards, and shoes. Dana, just treat this as a pick-up game, and know that we’re grateful you can help. Any idea what number jersey you want?”

I said, “Ma’am, I don’t care. Whatever you have on the shelf will be fine. Just don’t expect much of me -- I’m an engineer, not an athlete.”

She said, “Tell me another one, Dana. I’ve seen you at the park. But I understand. One more thing -- you’re still an undergrad, right?”

I said, “Yes ma’am, for a few more weeks.”

She said, “Good. We’ll have a couple of NCAA forms for you to sign, but this should be no problem.”

“See you at one pm, ma’am.” And clicked off.

I looked at Ed. “Honey, I’m fixing to play NCAA level soccer.”

“Seriously?!?”

I related the story.

He smiled and said, “May try to catch the end of your game. Give ‘em HELL!”

Ed Allen’s turn:

Heavy-duty work in the office today, most of it being done by Laci and her team. Can I be direct, here? She works them nearly like slaves, but serves them deli sandwiches for lunch, and gives pep talks. Makes ‘em laugh, and then returns them to their duties. And they love her, somehow. Dunno how she does that, but it works. The bonus checks help, I think.

At nearly four pm I checked out, headed over to the Auburn soccer field. Arriving, I heard a roar from the stadium. I walked in just as the game ended, and looked out to the field, to see Dana hoisted up on the shoulders of nine players, screaming and smiling.

Dana spotted me and waved, then jumped down and ran over to me, jumping from about five feet away, knocking me down into the grass. Yeah, a 105 lb. girl, coming at you at twenty mph will do that. She kissed me nearly into the ground, then pulled me upright. She said, “Ed, we won! Somehow, we REALLY did! Hey, I gotta go shower and change. Meet me outside in maybe thirty minutes!”

How did most of the rest of 3Sigma know about this and why was I the one too stupidly dedicated to a project to miss it?

Cindy and Dan 1.0. “We got a lot of video, buddy. You need to SEE some of this stuff,” Dan said.

Dana ran off, and three of her coaches were walking over to me. The most senior stepped up to me, offering her hand. She said, “You must be Ed Allen, her husband. I’m Ruth Blackwell, and I can’t even begin to tell you how valuable that girl is! Ed, I dunno how much you know about soccer, but sometimes, you just need a “wild-child”, and that’s DANA!”

I said, “Yes ma’am, and the same thought occurred to me about five minutes after I met her.”

She said, “Ed, I’m not the world’s greatest coach, but I do pretty well, and we’re having a decent season. If we had Dana, we could win the NCAA Championship! That girl can turn defense into offense so fast you can’t believe she’s doing it, and she’s a magician at a fake -- turns the other team defenders inside out.”

Then, “She never showed up on our scouting reports, but she says she never went to high school, so at least our scouts were doing their jobs. One more question: When she filled out the player registration, she gave us a birth date showing that she’s only sixteen -- is that right?”

I said, “Yes ma’am, and she’s very much looking forward to her seventeenth, because she’s going to get her pilot’s license on that day.”

She said, “Let me get this right: She’s maybe two months away from her BSEE, close to getting her pilot’s license, she’s absolutely beautiful, and the best player on the field today. Did I miss anything?”

I said, “Ruth, I don’t know what to tell you. I’m an electrical engineer, so I’m supposed to be kinda smart. Whatever my IQ is, I’m pretty sure hers is twice that. She tells me she likes soccer because it’s fun. If all this is stunning to YOU, then welcome to my world. She stuns me the same way, every day.”

She said, “Ed, you have to be the luckiest man in the universe. Now, I have to go give my locker-room speech, and my post-game interview. And by the way, I’m sending Dana home with her game jersey. She deserves much more, but it’s all I can give her. Damn! Just Damn!”

About forty-five minutes later, she stepped out with damp hair, carrying her backpack and her game jersey, a big grin on her face. She said, “Ed, that was a hoot! I don’t want to do it again, but those girls are GOOD, and several of them want me to tutor them in math -- I’ll probably do it.”

I said, “Coach Blackwell was singing your praises, Dana. She said that if you joined their team, they could win the national championship.”

Dana said in an avalanche of words, “Ed, it wasn’t like that, and I’m really not that good. I’m just faster, and it was TOO easy to tell what they were going to do next. Coach told me to treat it like a pick-up game, and that’s exactly what I did. I stole some passes, faked-out a couple of their defenders, and when they took a couple of extra players to defend me, it left somebody else open. Easy stuff, but fast, and FUN! I guess their players weren’t ready for me. I mean, they do scouting, too. Nobody knew me.”

Then, “Ed, changing the subject, could we go get a couple of big, greasy hamburgers? And lots of fries? Right now, I could eat a horse!”

“Yes, ma’am, whatever you desire. But I have to ask: Don’t you think it would be fun to finish the season with the team? After all, a chance at an NCAA championship, and all that...”

“Nope. Negative. Nuh-uh,” she laughed. “It’s fun, but I would NOT welcome all the practices and traveling to away games. I have MUCH more important stuff to do HERE, and I need to get the hours for my flight test.”

Now there’s this HUGE frame (well not THAT huge – it’s Dana’s jersey, after all) in her office, captioned with the score, 5-2, and the jersey’s signed by all the team and the coaches.

Jason’s turn:

I shouldn’t be surprised anymore. Trouble-maker #1 started it, as usual. Who’s #1? C’mon, folks, think about it -- who started all this mess in the first place? After dinner last night, Cindy collected me, Susan, Tina, and Nikki. She kept it simple, saying, “Guys, it’s P.E. test time, don’t you think?

Nikki said, “Yeah, that occurred to me, too. pTerri has the munchkins, plus Tara and Kim, getting all boned up for their EIT exams.”

My dear, lovely, MODEST(?) Susan said, “Oooh -- I LIKE getting boned up!”

Raucous laughter from the ladies, and I turned about ten shades of red, I think.

That EIT (Engineer In Training) exam four years ago was the natural step-off point. It leads to this. ‘This’ being the crowning achievement. Jason Ellerbee would be able to not only put his name on things, but he’d be able to put an official stamp that it had been ENGINEERED. Dizzying thought.

Cindy smirked at my discomfiture, then “Let’s split up the front-end stuff, a little. How about I collect the exams from the hubbies, and from Mister Bill, if they still have them. Tina, maybe you could see what else is available online. Susan, could you see that we’re covered for registration? And Nikki, could you get with Dr. Hoskins to see what he thinks? He may have some ideas for us.”

“Cindy, the whole idea of testing kinda frightens me,” I said. I’m good at field-work, but academics have always been a struggle for me. Susan patted my arm, comforting. Riches beyond belief. My story with my lovely Susan parallels the story of ‘Jason becomes an engineer’. That’s number three on my life’s accomplishments. First is ‘Husband of Susan’. Second is ‘Father of JW – Jason Wallace – our son’. Third will be ‘Jason Ellerbee – Professional Engineer’.

There. I formed that picture in my mind. With this bunch, that’s as good as a done deal.

“Jason,” Cindy said. “one of the reasons you’re here is that you’re REALLY good at thinking on your feet. You probably have better intuition than any of us, and that’s exactly what these PE exams are designed to show. Besides, if we work up a few cram sessions, maybe spread over a few weeks, we’ll ALL ace this exam!”