Chapter 26: Friday, Sept. 7

GAME DAY — ROAD TRIP, PANTHERS

Kacie did not appreciate my alarm going off at 6 a.m., burrowing in closer when I tried to reach over her to turn it off. I was able to untangle myself enough to accomplish the task, but slumped back on the bed as two very nice boobs tried to leave an imprint on my ribcage.

“We should get moving,” I said quietly. “I don’t think you want Mom or Dad to come get us up and find you here.”

My sister moaned grumpily, but eventually loosened her grip enough for me to crawl out of bed. I was just finishing up in the bathroom when she staggered in.

“Brush your teeth?” she mumbled.

“Yes,” I said and immediately found my tonsils being tickled.

“There, that oughta wake me up,” she grinned sleepily.

It sure as hell woke me up. I don’t know why it was acceptable for her to kiss me with her morning mouth, but not vice versa. It wasn’t bad enough to complain about, though.

I went to get dressed while Kacie took over the bathroom. Mom and Dad were in the kitchen when I went to get some breakfast.

“Is Kacie up?” Mom asked.

“She was in the bathroom when I left,” I said. “I don’t know how awake she is, but she was moving around.”

I finished eating and put my dishes in the washer, then went back to my room to do some more reading. A little before 7:30, I packed everything I needed in my backpack, loaded up and headed out.

“See y’all tonight,” I called as I went out to my car.

I got to school in plenty of time to hit my locker — there was another little basket of goodies on the top shelf with a sweet note from Staci wishing me luck in the game — and organize my backpack for the day. I figured I’d better keep all my morning books with me just so I wouldn’t forget them when we left. That five-hour busride ought to be good for something besides getting me to the game.

I even thought to shoot a text to Arlene and Jan wishing them a safe trip before the bell rang, but had to silence my phone before receiving a response. Mr. Cochran probably wouldn’t appreciate the notification sounding out during the middle of his lecture.

The morning classes were just reviewing for our upcoming tests. Since so many people were expected to attend the game, the teachers seemed to understand that any assignments given for the weekend would only be done by the most hardcore students, like the half dozen or so still chasing valedictorian.

When the bell rang for fourth period, the race was on. As soon as I reached the fieldhouse, I was packing my uniform and gear. I even remembered to put the pads, gloves and white spirit rag inside my helmet. After making everything fit, I realized I might ought to put the shorts and T-shirt I’d brought for the ride home in with the rest of the stuff. My backpack would stay on the bus during the game.

I joined the procession of guys hauling bags out to the waiting buses, again putting mine at the back of the last bay on the offense’s bus. I put my laptop in the overhead bin inside and went back inside to the team room to eat. There were a lot fewer family members in attendance this week, but Jed chalked that up to so many of them already getting on the road.

The meal was just boxed sandwiches from Jason’s Deli, but they were large and filled with meat. I would have preferred roast beef, but the ham-and-turkey combo I received was more than filling. The fruit cup was a nice added touch. I made sure to finish it and my cookie before Jed or any of the other linemen felt the need to “protect” the property of the offense again.

I was just brushing the crumbs off my shirt when Coach Tucker gave a blast on his whistle to start us toward the gym.

The joint was rockin’ as we made our entrance to the fight song. The band segued into Escape Club’s “Wild, Wild West,” which kind of fit the theme of the trip, as the cheerleaders did their thing. Staci’s shaking ass again drew my attention.

The highlight video started with our presentation to Sherry Parker, who was again seated in her wheelchair off one end of the court. I was just glad they cut the part where she kissed me. I almost wish they’d cut my touchdown out after the shrill screams from the freshman section behind us.

Coach Tucker reminded players and fans alike that we’d have to step up our game this week, what with heading into a hostile environment and all, then the big, blue fuzzball pantsed another mangy-looking cat. This time, the boxers were emblazoned by what looked like oil derricks spurting gushers into the air. It made sense when you realized the importance of the petroleum industry to our opponents.

Things wound down with one last cheer and the school song. As we were about to exit the gym, Staci raced over and grabbed my arm.

“There’s one thing you need to do before you go,” she said with a sneaky grin.

“It better be quick,” I said. “We’re going straight to the bus and leaving.”

“This won’t take long,” she said, turning me toward the other end of the court. “Coach Tucker gave us permission.”

I looked up to see all the cheerleaders — freshmen, JV and varsity — gathered. Debbie Wilkes was giving me a rather disapproving look from the background, but said nothing.

Kelli Thornton emerged from the throng pushing Sherry in her wheelchair as Staci led me toward them. We met at the midcourt line and Sherry stood up with a little assistance from two of her teammates.

Sherry blushed redder than her hair, which was just starting to grow back under her scarf, and smiled shyly. I smelled a setup here, but I figured I’d better let the gang of exceptionally perky girls carry through with their nefarious plan.

“Would you be my date for Sadie Hawkins?” Sherry asked barely above a whisper.

Something like five dozen faces stared at me expectantly. Staci all but bounced in excitement as she kept hold of my arm like she was afraid I might try to make a break for it. They had me trapped and they knew it. I could only decline if I wanted to be clawed to death on the spot.

“I’d love to,” I said with a warm smile, eliciting shrieks at least as shrill as the ones I’d heard from the freshman section. The proximity of this sonic blast may have damaged my hearing.

Sherry kissed me sweetly and gave a sigh of relief as she returned to her wheelchair. I don’t know which act took more out of her, standing or asking me out.

“I’ve got to get going,” I said. “I’ll get your contact info from Staci and we can work out the details later.”

Staci led me away as the rest of the cheerleaders went into a frenzy around Sherry. I got the feeling this date was as big a deal for them as it was for her based on the chatter I was hearing.

“You done good,” Staci said, smacking me wetly on the cheek.

“Like I had a choice,” I said. “Those girls would have demanded my blood if I’d turned her down. Not that I would have told Sherry no in the first place, but I should have cleared it with Morgan, Bethany and Kacie first.”

“I already did,” Staci chirped. “We’ve been planning this ever since Sherry came back to school.”

“So where am I taking her to eat before the dance?” I asked.

“Familia Benavidez,” Staci smirked. “Melinda Hernandez said it’ll drive Antonia Benavidez crazy.”

Damn, how many girls were involved in this conspiracy?

“I hope my modeling assignment doesn’t run long,” I said.

“Marie’s supposed to talk to Mr. Shoffner about that,” Staci said. “You’ll have to work out an appropriate thank you with her.”

Somehow, I didn’t think Marie’s preferred thank you would be deemed “appropriate” by the general public.

“Let’s get moving, Robinson,” Coach Tucker commanded as Staci let me go. “We’re burnin’ daylight.”

“Yes, sir, Coach,” I said as I quickened my pace.

“You gonna tell me what that was all about?” he asked as we exited the gym.

“Sherry Parker asked me to Sadie Hawkins,” I said. “Apparently, it was Staci Patterson’s idea.”

“So you’ve got your girlfriends procuring for you, eh?”

“I had nothing to do with it,” I said in my defense. “That was all them. I got the feeling you’d be auditioning holders during pregame warmups if I’d said no. There wouldn’t have been anything left of me.”

“Well discretion is the better part of valor,” he snorted. “Load up.”

I climbed aboard to find Jed waving at me. He already had my backpack in the seat next to him.

“Hurry up, dude,” he said. “I brought enough DVDs to get us there and back.”

“Well, keep the sound down,” I said as I made my way back. “I’ve got three tests to study for.”

Jed lifted my backpack so I could take my seat and the bus was rolling before I was fully settled. The caravan was the same as when we’d traveled to our scrimmage with SUVs full of coaches, trainers and managers followed by the two team buses. Two SUVs towed equipment trailers.

I pulled the laptop and my Economics book out, handing the computer to Jed so he could watch his movie. I figured I’d be better off getting the dullest subject out of the way while I was still awake.

Almost as soon as we pulled onto the freeway, vehicles with blue-and-white window flags began surging past us. More than one gave a honk of the horn as they moved alongside. I wondered if a certain black Range Rover was on the road yet.

I don’t know what movie Jed was watching, but his laughter was more than a little distracting as I worked my way through a chapter. I decided to switch to my English book about the time he swapped DVDs.

We were about two hours into the trip, almost to our rest stop, when I heard raindrops hitting the window.

“I hope we don’t have to put up with this during the game,” I grumbled as the rain intensified.

“Forecast out there is for scattered, intermittent showers,” Andrew Pearson said from behind me. “Just a 30-percent chance after sundown. At least we’re playing on a turf field.”

We pulled into a truck stop about half an hour later and the weather hadn’t cleared. I hoped it would by the time we reached our destination.

Bodies piled out of buses and SUVs as almost our entire travel party hit the facilities. Several people purchased drinks and snacks. I got a half-liter bottle of water, kicking myself mentally for not thinking to bring the hiker’s water bottle Dad had given me the first week of practice.

As we reloaded, Jed pulled out another disc and popped it into my laptop. I wondered how the battery was doing. I don’t think it’d had this much use since our scrimmage trip. I tried to keep it plugged in when I used it outside of class.

“Time to get in a football frame of mind,” Jed said as the menu screen came up.

I looked over to see the opening credits of a movie made about the program we were on our way to play, although the story happened 30 years ago. Heck, the movie was 15 years old. Some of the guys we lined up against tonight might be sons of the characters depicted.

“You’re kidding,” I said. “About the only thing they got right was the name of the school, its mascot and colors. They changed opponents, outcomes, scores, guys’ jersey numbers. The big game at the end was not the state championship game and it wasn’t played in a dome. It was a semifinal played in the rain at a college stadium. They never even mention the other high school in a two-school town. The politics between the two were a key part of the book.”

“It’s not supposed to be a documentary,” Jed said. “Now be quiet so I can watch.”

I started in on Western Civ, which was real history, not just “based on a true story.” As was the case when we watched “The Best of Times,” a crowd gathered behind us to watch over our shoulders. I tuned out their commentary and concentrated on the causes and effects of the Black Plague.

Amazingly, my laptop had enough juice to get through the two-hour run time. The credits rolled just as we started getting into the eastern edge of what Dad called an outpost of civilization. I couldn’t imagine living out here without a world-class cable and Internet package. Industrial-strength air conditioning was also a necessity. The nearest major pro sports were back in our metro area. The closest major college was two hours away and, as Dad said, wasn’t big time, it was who the big timers beat on a regular basis. The biggest feature I was aware of was a Double-A baseball team.

We still had a good 20 minutes to the stadium when we pulled off the interstate onto a loop that would take us to a state highway that passed within a couple of miles of our destination. I made sure Jed had his DVD out of the drive and started loading my things back into the backpack. It was time to start getting my game face on.

It was drizzling lightly as our caravan parked outside the visiting team gate. I exited the bus to encounter oppressive humidity and ominous clouds to the west. I thought this place was supposed to be a semi-desert.

“Get your gear and get inside,” Coach Tucker ordered as we milled around. “We’ll start taping as soon as the trainers get set up, then we’ll just have to see what the weather does.”

My bag was again buried under a mound of others, but the stenciled 98 eventually came into view. I hoisted my bag on my shoulder and hurried to get inside, hearing my mother claim I didn’t have enough sense to get in out of the rain the whole way.

The dressing room was not meant for a team that brought as many bodies as we did, but Jed said the home side was no bigger, having used it when we’d played a playoff game here two years ago.

“Dad said their old stadium was even worse,” Jed said. “When they built this place, a lot of the teams that visited were from close enough to dress before the trip. Those towns are all dryin’ up and the schools have dropped down a class, maybe two, and they discontinued those series. The local teams dress at school and bus over, kinda like we do at home.”

I changed out of my school clothes and put on the compression shorts and UnderArmour top, making sure the pads were properly situated, then got the rest of my uniform organized. We were wearing white jerseys and pants tonight. No need in getting them stained before I had to.

I noticed my helmet had three stars on the back, indicating my impact plays from last week. Most of the starters would get six or more for a good performance, but I felt pretty fortunate to be deemed worthy of the three I got. That was three more than I expected to receive all season.

We just kicked back and relaxed as the trainers set up a couple of tables. The plan to have six set up outside was scrapped by the weather. Even if guys doubled up on a table, it was going to take longer to get everyone taped.

While that was going on, Coach Tucker told us to put our game pants on before the girl student trainers could come in to do their bit. I have no idea why he was giving me such a sour look as he issued the order.

They started with the top 44 guys on the depth chart, then added the special teamers who were likely to be called upon fairly early, then the rest of the backups. I don’t know if it was by design or coincidence that Cody wrapped my ankles, but I wasn’t trying to get anywhere near Stephanie Tucker.

I put on my socks and spirit rag, helping a couple of other guys with their headwear. I was rather surprised by how many of my teammates continued to shave their heads. I did note that most who did so were on defense. I guess it made them think they looked tough. It seemed to be similar to the old bit about how to look good is to feel good.

Coach Rogers came around with the little hand pump to make sure everyone’s helmet fit snugly. After that, all we could do was wait until time to don our shoulder pads and jerseys before heading out for pregame.

I wasn’t prepared for how long the wait turned out to be.

It was just about time to take the field for pregame. I put on my cleats and was getting my jersey and shoulder pads organized when Doc the trainer stepped through the door and went over to Coach Tucker.

The head coach did not look happy. At least I was on the opposite side of the room from his daughter.

“Listen up!” Coach called out. “We’re in a 30-minute lightning delay. Just take it easy and we’ll get started when the weather clears.”

I sat back and tried to relax as we waited.

And waited.

About 20 minutes after the delay started, Doc stuck his head back in. Another lightning strike had reset the clock. We had another 30 minutes to wait.

I almost wanted to run out to the bus and get my backpack so I could do some more studying, but the bus drivers had taken off to eat, refuel and rest as soon as we’d unloaded everything. They were limited in the number of hours they could spend behind the wheel each day, and this trip was long enough they were required to take a break.

Not that I was very interested in studying after what I’d done on the ride out. And even if I could get to my backpack, Jed had run down the battery on the laptop and I wasn’t real sure about how much longer the battery on my phone would last, making browsing the web impossible. We were just stuck here waiting.

The closest thing to entertainment was listening to coaches bitch about the weather.

“I swear, this is like the seventh time in the last 10 years I’ve had to deal with this crap,” Coach Martin, the outside linebackers coach, griped.

“And it’s always the second game,” Coach Wilson commiserated. “What is it about Week 2 that makes the weather get so crazy?”

I thought about that for a bit. I’d be willing to bet it had something to do with the Atlantic hurricane season picking up. We’d already had a couple of named storms make landfall, but I didn’t think the one that passed through this week would reach this far inland. We were almost 500 miles from the coast. Besides, Grandpa had told me most of the weather out in this part of the country came out of the Pacific, which was a big reason it was so arid out here. The Rockies were a pretty big barrier for rain clouds to get past.

“The bad one was when we went out to Central that year,” Coach Rogers said. “That was, what, nine or 10 years ago? We took the field four times for pregame and never even got through calisthenics. One time, we didn’t even get everybody on the field before they sent us back inside. The finally just canceled the game about 10 o’clock.”

“That was not a fun night,” Coach Montoya, the defensive line coach, moaned. “And the bad thing about it was Central wanted to meet halfway both years we played them, but our administration insisted on home-and-home because some beancounter didn’t want to pay for an extra road trip.

“If we’d played at the stadium Central wanted to use, we would’ve been able to get the game in. The weather was beautiful there that night and we had to drive right past it twice, comin’ and goin.’”

Coach Bennett, the offensive line coach, jumped in to try to top all the others.

“My sophomore year of college, we were playing at Florida State and a hurricane made landfall the morning of the game,” he said. “Strangest game I’ve ever been a part of. It was tough to even breathe just standing on the sideline, the air was so heavy.

“The lead edge came through just before kickoff. You couldn’t even see the other sideline it was raining so hard. The eye passed right over the stadium. I looked up and saw blue sky, thought it was finally clearing up. Then the rest of the storm hit in the fourth quarter. We went from gettin’ it in the back of the head to gettin’ it in right in the face. I don’t care if I never see Tallahassee again.”

As interesting as their stories were, they didn’t fill me with comfort. I wasn’t looking forward to spending three hours in a cramped dressing room only to have to head home. As things turned out, that might not have been such a bad thing.

It was past 7:30, more than a half hour after the scheduled kickoff, when we were finally told to head to the field. Most guys still didn’t have their jerseys and shoulder pads on. After sitting on our asses waiting for more than an hour, all of a sudden we were in a hurry.

Our pregame routine was shortened to calisthenics and position drills. It seemed we had a rather tight window to get the game in before the next line of storms moved in. They even dispensed with the school songs and coin toss, which I was surprised to learn was almost always conducted by the head coaches well before game time. The ceremony at midfield with the captains was just for show.

I gathered the few band members in attendance weren’t heartbroken by the decision to forego the alma mater. It was still spitting rain and I’d heard from Kacie more than once that it was no fun trying to keep woodwinds dry and playable in such conditions.

They even played a recording of the national anthem after we went back inside for final instructions. The Panthers’ band had apparently packed it in for the night.

“We’ll see how well y’all can handle a little adversity,” Coach Tucker said as we prepared to go back out. “The ball’s going to be wet and the turf’s going to be slick. You have to focus on the details and make sure you carry out your assignments. Don’t let an unfortunate break get you down. Just do your jobs. The Panthers aren’t any more used to this than we are.”

We didn’t even have our inflatable runthrough tunnel, but I think that was due more to the travel than the weather. The stands were only moderately populated. Fans had been ordered to take shelter underneath the stands during the delay and more than a few had gone back to their vehicles.

It turned out we’d won the toss and deferred to the second half. The kickoff team gathered around Coach Ramirez, but it really didn’t matter. Jeremy boomed the kick out of the end zone on the fly and the Panthers started at their 25.

I don’t know what they saw in film study that they thought they could take advantage of, but three pretty vanilla running plays left them short of a first down. Our defense was swarming to the ball pretty well.

Dontrell Williams let the punt roll out of bounds at our 34 and the starting offense headed out for our first possession. I could tell things weren’t going to go to plan by the way the Panthers lined up on defense. After getting torched by the pass in their opener, they came out in a nickel package similar to what the Bearcats had employed, but it wasn’t a 3-3 Stack. They went with two down linemen and four linebackers, replacing the nose guard with an extra defensive back.

Reggie had plenty of time against the two-man rush, but the receivers weren’t getting open. The linebackers covered underneath while the secondary played deep, effectively a nine-man zone against four receivers and a back. After a deep shot on first down fell incomplete, two dumpoffs to Marcell out of the backfield left us with fourth-and-too long to go for it in our own end of the field. Jeremy’s high, floating punt was fair caught at the Panther 18 as the coverage unit got down quickly.

The Panthers stuck with the basic plays, managing to pick up a first down this time, but stalled and had to punt from their 37. As Dontrell dropped back to receive the kick, a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, accompanied by an enormous clap of thunder.

We were racing for the dressing room before the ref even blew his whistle to halt play. That one had been too close.

“I think it hit the goal post,” somebody said as we ducked inside.

The coaches congregated to discuss matters as we settled in to wait another 30 minutes. It would be nearly 9 o’clock before we could resume play and we weren’t even halfway through the first quarter.

One of the stadium folks came in to update Coach Tucker on the situation. Apparently, calling the game was mentioned.

“I didn’t drive five hours just to turn around and go home,” Coach snapped. “We’ll wait it out if we can finish by midnight.”

Some more discussion followed as I tried to get comfortable. It was a wasted effort on my part.

“Robinson!” Coach Tucker shouted.

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

“I understand you brought a laptop,” he said.

“It’s on the bus,” I said. “Are the drivers back yet?”