Chapter 113

Thursday-Friday, Aug. 9-10

I puttered around in my room for a bit, but I was still pretty wound up from the news of the day and wasn’t going to be falling asleep any time soon. A little before 9 o’clock, I wandered into the family room and plopped down on the sofa next to my sister. The program she was watching on TV was just about over and she tossed me the remote when the final credits rolled.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” she announced as she got up, kissed me on the cheek and headed to her room.

I flipped over to the channel carrying the game. It wasn’t a network broadcast, instead produced by the team off the NFL feed with the team’s paid shills doing the announcing, but they played it pretty straight. There wasn’t any blatant homerism, but the story was definitely told from the locals’ perspective.

Things started off promisingly with the locals taking the opening kickoff 75 yards in 10 plays to score. The starting quarterback completed all three of his passes for 39 yards and a touchdown. The starting running back was among a handful of players held out, but his replacement ran for 29 yards on five carries on the drive.

That was it for the starting quarterback. The backup took over and directed a 10-play, 73-yard TD drive late in the second quarter to make it 14-0 before the 49ers scored with 10 seconds left in the half.

For all intents and purposes, the starters won their part of the game 14-0. The rest of the evening would determine how many hopefuls on both teams wound up in the unemployment line this weekend.

I stayed with it into the third quarter long enough to see the backup QB cap another 10-play scoring drive with a short TD pass to some scrub who I think was cut during the end zone celebration. That made it 21-10 and I had to call it quits. It was getting late and I had to be at the driving range before 8 a.m.

I was having a strange, yet pleasant dream. Arlene was bouncing a little redheaded girl who couldn’t have been 2 years old on her knee, Jan held a little sandy-haired boy who appeared a few months younger in her lap and Aunt Karen was nursing an infant that was still cueball bald.

Grandma, Grandpa, Mom, Dad, Kacie, Aunt Patty, my cousins, Bethany and Meredith Metzger all stood around admiring the children. The Pattersons came through the door, followed by the Ensberrys and Richardses. Staci and Morgan quickly came to give me a kiss.

I knew we were at the farm because I recognized the small bald hill that rose behind Grandpa’s barn. The pumpjack on top was a dead giveaway. But the house was all wrong. It was anything but the modest three-bedroom farmhouse my grandfather had inherited, remodeled and raised his children in. This place was more like Southfork on steroids.

Things got weird — OK, weirder — when Kacie, Morgan, Bethany, Staci, Kinsey and Kirsten, all looking at least 18, started advancing on me, backing me into a corner, chanting the same thing over and over.

“It’s our turn now.”

I awoke suddenly and felt ... flustered, disoriented. It wasn’t an outright sense of panic, but definitely unsettling.

After realizing I was alone in my own bed at home and seing the clock showing it was a little after 6:30, I got up and started on my day. I brushed my teeth, dressed for one last workout with the cabana crew, grabbed my tablet and headed to the kitchen.

I fixed a bowl of cereal, got everything to my spot at the table and started catching up with the world. My first thing was to check on the football game.

Those sorry fuckers! The fourth- and fifth-stringers, who were destined to be cut anyway, gave up two touchdowns in the last 4½ minutes to blow the lead and lose 24-21. I was glad I hadn’t stayed up to watch that shit.

The kicker they’d brought in specifically for his long range had missed a 52-yarder in the middle of the fourth quarter that would have made it a 14-point lead. In the long run, that was probably a good thing because getting out of a preseason game unscathed is more important than going to overtime and risking an injury to someone you expected to play a key supporting role.

San Francisco scored a touchdown on the ensuing series, forced a punt at the two-minute warning and scored the game-winner with 18 seconds to go. The only reason any of those guys would still be in camp on Monday was because the team needed them for cannon fodder. I was certainly in favor of shooting them out of a cannon.

The gasbag owner should have made every damn one of them walk back to training camp with the edict of be on time for the next practice or turn in your playbook. It was only about 320 miles.

The head coach seemed pleased with the starters’ performances in limited action. He made sure to point out the defense came up with three turnovers while the offense had none. There were also the three 10-play touchdown drives, each of which covered more than 70 yards.

The stats that jumped out at me were 13 penalties committed and five first downs by penalty given up. I could just hear almost every male I knew, from Dad and Grandpa to Jed and the rest of the cabana crew, shouting that you have to “get ‘em off the field!” when you have the chance.

While those sorry fuckers on the football team were pissing away a game on the West Coast, the fuckin’ bastards on the baseball team were never in their game on the opposite side of the country. The Yankees led all the way in winning that series opener 7-3, dropping the locals to 15 games under.

I’m glad I wasn’t a gambler. A guy would go broke in about two minutes betting on these teams.

The whole thing had me in a weird mood as I hit the door and hoofed it to the driving range. I arrived to find damn near every senior on the two-deep chart on hand. I think we could have run plays without anyone having to be out of position.

We stretched. We ran gassers. We practiced snaps until both kickers were satisfied. We huddled up and Jed made a few announcements about which guys needed to swing by the fieldhouse today to get their gear and that everyone had better be on time Monday morning. On time being 5:30 a.m. so the trainers could have 172 ankles wrapped in time for 86 players to be on the field at 6 a.m.

It was hard for me to believe that all this started the week after school let out because Jed wanted me to be his workout partner.

After shouting “TEAM!” on three, we dispersed with about a dozen of us heading toward the Activity Center to shower and dress for work. A line was already forming at the gates as people were anxious to get as much as they could out of their last weekend of summer vacation. The good thing was we should be raking in the tips these last three days.

The delivery got sorted, the patrons’ requests were fulfilled and everything was in order when the barbarian horde stormed the palisade. Or was that when Mr. Alvarez allowed the patrons to enter the pool area?

It wasn’t as bad as the Fourth of July weekend, but we were on the move right from the start. We got the lunch rush out of the way in time for the cheerleaders to begin working one of two back-to-school parties going on today. I spent most of my time subbing in for guys who needed a break. Several of them had to go rinse off and change shirts more than once as the temperature and steady wind out of the southwest made it feel like a blast furnace.

Arlene and the Metzgers showed up before noon and were joined by all the females in my life before lunch was over. Kacie, Morgan and the other Gang of Eight members who were on hand seemed to be plotting something. Arlene, Jan and Aunt Karen looked to be plotting something else. Even Mom swung by and joined Grandma, Aunt Patty and Meredith Metzger in what appeared to be even more plotting.

At least Kinsey and Kirsten didn’t seem to be plotting. But they were busy making friends with girls in their own age range, so there may have been plotting going on on some level.

When I wasn’t subbing in for guys, I helped run supplies for the cheerleaders. Cold drinks were a popular item today. Go figure.

Mr. Alvarez announced that a double order would be arriving this evening after closing, then a slightly smaller delivery than normal would come in the morning. That should be more than enough to get us through the weekend and into Monday. By then, the handful of Activity Center staff that would be assuming cabana duties should have a handle on how things worked.

Things stayed busy right up until Mr. Alvarez told the early crew to clock out. A cool shower felt wonderful. I was going to miss these during football practice. The good thing there was practice sessions wouldn’t last more than a couple of hours and would include plenty of water to drink. It would just be a matter of toughing it out during the hottest part of the day.

As I was heading out, Mom caught up to me to inform me the whole clan would have dinner at the club tonight. Grandpa was expected in by 6 o’clock, so I should be ready by then.

I reached the house by 4:30 and spent some time playing with the new laptop again. I started the necessary download using the house’s wifi and hit the bathroom to get cleaned up while that was processing. I was dressed in khakis, an Oxford cloth and loafers by the time it finished, then used my phone as a hotspot to try to network with the desktop.