Chapter 45

Cheryl had driven home from school for the short vacation, and she and Cal drove both of their vehicles back. They had debated about whether that was necessary, but they decided to be on the safe side. They left themselves just one day after they arrived before registration. Since housing was all in order, that was one time-consuming item they did not have to deal with.

On their free day, they connected with Maddy and her family, with Jesus Monteleone, with the volleyball coach, and of course with Robin and Bud and Bud's parents.

They received a bit of a surprise in a note from Sharon, left with the coach. She was in town, would be taking a couple of classes, and wanted to work out with them for the summer. "I'm never going to wimp out again," the note said.

"She sounds serious," Cal observed as they left the coach's office.

"She worked out hard all last semester," Cheryl told him. "I think she put on about fifteen pounds, and it's all muscle."

"Think we should take her to Master Jessy?"

"Well, look how Maddy responded," Cheryl pointed out.

"Yeah, but she's naturally feisty."

"Cal, running out of gas in that last game got to Sharon in a way you wouldn't believe. She is deadly serious about being in top shape. With Sue and Tess graduated, she will be a starter. I don't know how many times she said to me that she never wants to come out of another match unless we're up twenty points."

"Fifteen pounds, huh?" he mused. "Well, she was too thin, I guess."

As they were driving to see Robin and Bud, she told him, "I think we need to have a good talk tonight."

"Oh, oh!" he said, only half joking. "Don't you know that's one of the most dreaded things for a guy to hear?"

"Ha! Ha! Very funny. It's nothing bad, Honey. We just have a very tough five months or so ahead of us and we need a little organization."

"This is going to be different than last year, you know," Cheryl said as they relaxed after dinner. "Last year, it was like a long camp-out for you. Now, this is your permanent home for the next three years."

"I had been think about just that as we drove up," her said. "How long did it take before that sunk in for you last year?"

"It was after Christmas before I really thought about much of anything," she told him. "I really didn't have time to think much before then. Of course, with all that went on last fall, that just made it harder to get in any kind of groove."

"Seems to mean that you got in a pretty good groove," he teased. "You haven't come close to missing an 'A' yet, have you?"

"No, but the sophomore year is the most dangerous for a lot of students. I've got a heavier than normal load, even with volleyball. I'm afraid you're going to wonder if you even have a girlfriend for the first three months of school."

"You mean you won't be sleeping with me?" he asked with a pout.

"Cal! I'm being serious! I just want you to realize that when it seems like I don't have any time for you, it's because... well, it's because I probably don't."

He realized that it was time to stop the joking and teasing. Pulling her close, he said "Believe me, I know how dedicated you are to your goal. And I also know what a fierce competitor you are in volleyball. Remember, I've got a goal of making the football team as a safety. That means I'll be the one with no time this summer. I'm not as fanatical about grades as you are, but I want a good mix of 'A's and 'B's - no 'C's if I can help it."

"I think," she said, "that we should agree that one sport is all we will do. It would be so nice to be somewhat normal students the rest of the year."

Cal felt a little twinge of regret, but he knew she was right. "You're right. One or both of us will burn out if we try for more. Have you been approached for basketball?"

"No. And I doubt that I will be. You, on the other hand, might be. Last year, they were dying for a pure outside shooter. If they ask, could you really say 'no'?"

"If I said yes, it would mean no life from August through March. Yeah, I could say 'no'."

"OK. Now, about the cooking and cleaning..."

Sharon Muron was tall, at 6'2", and one of those athletes that seemed to do everything gracefully. It had been a tough choice for her between basketball and volleyball offers from several schools. "I chose volleyball because my shooting range never got much beyond six feet," she explained at one morning workout.

Sharon had found a room not far from the apartment, actually with friends of Claire and Bert. Cal, Cheryl, Maddy, and Sharon all worked out together most of the time. Because of her natural grace, Sharon could seem like she was not putting everything into her volleyball. It took only a few workouts for Cal to realize that she was very committed to her conditioning and was, in fact, very competitive.

Her parents were willing to pay for the martial arts classes for Sharon, so she agreed to go. At her first session, Jessy asked "Give me one physical goal that you would like to work toward this summer."

"I want to be able to dunk a basketball," Sharon answered quickly. "I can get it over the rim, but I can't really slam it down."

"But you don't need that for volleyball," Jessy noted.

"Yeah, but imagine a spike coming down from ten-and-a-half feet!"

"I see. I guess that would be intimidating," Jessy agreed. "Maddy, can you set it that high?" In answer, Maddy faked a sweeping kick at him. They had developed a combative teasing demeanor toward each other.

The seven weeks before practice started were intense, to say the least. Cal and Cheryl shared their workouts, and that was an important form of togetherness for them. They did not pretend that it took the place of more romantic activities, but they were both content. Each treasured their own personal goals and admired the dedication of their lover.

One of the things that Cheryl had helped Cal with even in high school was maximizing the value of class time. "More time for kicking," she would remind him as they headed for classes. What she really meant was more time for her, but she knew he understood.

Bert insisted on helping with kicking practice almost daily. He also was able to use some contacts to get Cal access to a blocking sled at the high school field. It was not as good as the tackling dummy he had rigged up at home, but two or three times a week, he would exhaust himself slamming against it. Jessy had a heavy bag that Cal also used to keep his impact at a peak.

All through his last high school season, Cal had honed his tackling skills. His 'bad boy' reputation actually pleased him. He knew that he would probably never exceed 185 pounds if he was in top shape, so he had to do everything possible to maximize the force with which he hit runners and receivers. Maximizing force is a central concept of martial arts disciplines, so that fit right in with Cal's objective.

From the previous summer when he had worked with some high school kickers, the word had gotten around. There were five that joined Cal on a more or less regular basis. He enjoyed coaching them, but made sure that he did not lose practice time for himself.

Robin and Jessy both had to watch Cal and the girls carefully to see that they did not cross the line from building their bodies to wearing them down with all of the exercise.

It was late in July that the football special teams coach came to one of Cal's workouts. "Are you planning to try out?" the coach asked. "We are in pretty sad shape for kickers because of some injuries and academic dropouts."

"I would love to try out," Cal said, "but not just as a kicker."

"But the way you're kicking, you could be one of the best in the country," the coach protested.

"Don't get me wrong," Cal explained, "I love to kick, and as you can see, I'm working hard at it. But what I really love about football is the tackling, the hitting, the contact. I am not willing to put in all of that time just for ten to twelve plays a game."

"You're pretty small for a defensive back," the coach cautioned. "You know we could never guarantee that you would play. Besides, I'm not anxious to risk a kicker getting hurt."

"All I'm asking is that I would be allowed to work with DBs. If I get a chance to show what I can do, I'll play."

"I don't know. Our defensive backfield coach goes a lot by the numbers - speed and size. I might be able to get you some scholarship money - as a kicker."

"That wouldn't make any difference," Cal declared.

"Look, Banner. I can't believe you would pass up a chance like this. As a kicker, you could have a chance at the NFL."

"I love to compete," Cal explained. "That's not enough competition for me. If I can't play football, I'll just find other ways to compete."

"I don't know if I can help you. Won't you at least try out as a kicker. I promise I'll do what I can."

"That's fair."

"That's a lot to ask," the head coach stated. "We've got several good scholarship prospects back there, and some proven veterans."

"But you know the disaster we're looking at in kicking. We may never get a field goal over twenty yards all year with what we've got now. I'm telling you, this kid can flat out kick."

"Yeah, I watched him once last summer. He's got a leg, all right."

The special teams coach did not let up. "I did some research. The papers in his town were making him out to be some sort of bad guy last year because he hurt so many kids with his tackles."

"Just what we need, some kind of thug," the head coach exclaimed.

"That's just it! He got two penalties all year, and those were for pass interference."

Still not believing it the head coach said "You're telling me he'll just walk away if he can't play safety, even if he makes it as a kicker."

"It's what he says, and I think he's serious."

"What will he do? Go to another school."

"Nope," the special teams coach insisted. "According to the volleyball coach, he's living with one of her stars."

"So we could have a first-class kicker sitting it out on campus because we won't let him play safety? I don't like that kind of blackmail," the head coach said. The special teams coach just left, shaking his head.

Several times during the summer, Robin and Bud joined the other four at a park, and they would horse around at basketball. Both had played, and Bud had gotten into a league as soon as he got back from the service. While on duty, he had always found a league to play in. He was very good.

In early August, they were all at the park on Saturday morning. Robin had convinced them to take one day a week for just play instead of the usual intense workout. After some casual shooting and warming up, Sharon stood back of the circle and called out "Clear the lane, everyone! This is the day. I'm ready!"

Sure enough, she got her hand well above the rim and was able to drive the ball down through the net with some force. If Cal had ever thought that she was too laid back to be a real competitor, her fist-pumping glee at her accomplishment wiped out that impression.

Bud had to try his hand, since his height matched Sharon's 6'2". When he came up short on three tries while Sharon was successful twice more, he was gracious in his congratulations.

For another fifteen or twenty minutes, they all just had fun, the way good athletes can, playing almost any game. Maddy was the only one with little competitive basketball experience, but her raw speed and quickness allowed her to join right in the fun. They did not play three-on-three, but goofed around trying some fancy plays. They also did a lot of shooting, trying to match Cal's accuracy, to no avail.

"That wouldn't look so easy with some competition," a voice said from the mid-court line... They had noticed that the park was getting more crowded, but had not paid too much attention. A group of seven guys were standing at the other end of the court, holding a couple of basketballs. They looked to be late teens. "How about a game."

Looking at the others, Cal said to his group "Probably not a good idea. I'd hate to see anyone hurt after all of our hard work."

It was Sharon who spoke up first. "Hey, we're all in great shape. This is one of those soft surfaces, so falling isn't so much of a problem. I'll bet we can take these guys."

"You guys are all players," Maddy said. "I'll sit out."

The others all seemed to be itching for some competition. It was probably not a good idea, but even after his caution, Cal felt the need for a real contest of some kind.

Several of the boys were over six feet, and the group had the look of players. Cal wondered briefly if they were taking on too much. Maybe this way a whole high school team. Only one way to find out. "Five-on-five, full court, to fifteen by ones?" he asked.

"You want to play with three girls?" the apparent spokesman asked in surprise.

Cal just knew that the girls would be bristling over the insult, so he quickly said "Oh. You want us to go with four against your five, then?"

"Fuckin' comedian!" the spokesman spat out. "Play with six. Maybe you can get a couple of points that way. We'll go skins. Ha! Ha!"

Cal decided not to respond. Instead, he huddled the group together. "Our big advantage is conditioning," he said.

"And your shooting," Cheryl interjected, to agreement from the others.

"Let's run everything flat out," Cal went on. "Fast break on every play. Hustle back on 'D'. Make 'em pant. Bud, Sharon, stick to the boards, OK?"

They shot for first possession, and Cal won.

Cheryl passed the ball from out of bounds to Cal, who immediately got it to Robin, then headed for the corner, saying softly to Robin as he passed her "I'll probably be open." Sure enough, no one followed him. Within seconds, Robin had passed him the ball and he had drained it for the first point.

The boys were mouthing encouragement to each other as they brought the ball up, but they were not at all concerned or upset. The spokesman, whose name they learned was Pat, was apparently the dominant guy. At over six feet, he moved with the confidence of an experienced and successful player. Once he got the ball on their first possession, he never thought of passing, and drove right for the basket.

Pat was probably surprised to see both Bud and Sharon converge on him as he barely crossed the free throw line. He stopped his dribble, did a couple of fakes, and went up for a jumper from about eleven feet. Sharon was right with him and tipped his shot straight into the air. Bud turned around and backed into Pat, keeping him from getting to the ball. Sharon got her own deflection and saw Cal off to the side.

As soon as he got the ball from Sharon, Cal saw both Robin and Cheryl racing up the court, Robin in the lead, no defenders close. He got the ball to her, and it was quickly 2-0.

A group of a dozen or so young teen girls had just come up to the court, and they were oohing and aahing at seeing what the girls had done. It turned out that it was an after-season party for a softball team.

This time, there was a harder edge to the comments as Pat brought the ball up. Turning to the others from out in front, Cal said "Double and triple him until he passes." He and Cheryl bracketed Pat as he crossed the line, and Robin hung back about eight feet, ready to pick Pat up if he got through.

It only took a glance between Cal and Cheryl, and they knew instinctively what to do. He made a swipe, trying to steal the ball, but not trying very hard. Pat spun around swiftly, turning his back toward the reaching Cal. He ended facing up the court, and before his next dribble had hit the ground, Cheryl deflected the ball toward her basket. She was all over it and picked up the dribble, heading in for what should have been an easy score.

Pat was a good athlete, and he was very upset. He tore off after Cheryl. As she went up to score, he caught up with her and brought both arms down over her shoulders. She missed the shot when he hit her arm, and the impact from behind threw her into the stanchion that held the basket. She suffered a slight cut to her lip.

"What's wrong with you?" Cheryl snapped as she turned back to the court.

"Hey, no lay-ups! That's the way the play in the NBA. Man's basketball!" Pat shot back.

By that time, the rest of them were up the floor and circled around Cheryl, making sure she was all right. "I want him one-on-one," Cheryl hissed. "I'll show him 'man's basketball'!"

"It isn't worth getting hurt, Hon," Cal told her.

"He's the one who's gonna get hurt," she spat back.

"We haven't had the ball enough to know who's guarding who," Bud said with a chuckle. "Leave it until another possession."

"You girls have got a cheering section over there," Cal said, pointing to the young girls. "Bud, let's let the girls do the scoring, OK?"

"Fine by me. How about I set a down pick for Sharon. Watch for my signal."

Bud threw the ball in from the baseline to Cal in the backcourt, and Sharon set up at the edge of the circle. Almost immediately, Bud whistled and moved toward Sharon. One of the boys had just gotten in position to guard her, and when she broke toward the basket, the boy ran right into Bud's pick. Cal put up a soft lob, and Sharon took it in for 3-0. The young girls on the sideline were in complete approval.

This time, Pat never got the ball. After a couple of nice passes, one of the boys went high over Cheryl for a sixteen foot jumper to make it 3-1. Waving to Maddy, Cal told her in Spanish "Come in for me. Stay with the ball and steal it. Someone will be running. Don't foul." In English, Cal shouted to the others "Box and one!"

Maddy looked surprised for a minute, then grinned and sprinted onto the court as Cal came off. Once again, Pat did not get the ball. The boy who tried to bring it up never knew what hit him. Maddy met him before he even crossed the line, and knocked the ball away on the very first swipe. Robin and Cheryl were caught off-guard, but the former ball-carrier was so stunned that Robin got by him and took Maddy's pass for another lay-up.

By this time, a bit of a crowd had formed, mostly parents of the young girls, but a few others. They all seemed to be enjoying the show.

The boys were not beginners. On the next throw-in, they passed instead of dribbling, but they must never have seen quickness like Maddy's. The first pass got by her, but she seemed to know right where the next pass was going. The boy caught the pass, but as he was bringing it down, Maddy slapped it from his hands. Cheryl broke free and made it 5-1 to hoots and cheers from the sideline.

Pat was now railing on his teammates for not getting him the ball. This time up, they boys made sure where Maddy was and kept the ball away from her. Pat went right to the baseline and circled back out. He got a pass at eighteen feet on the wing and scored to make it 5-2.

The teams traded two baskets each on another Maddy steal, a rebound basket on Cheryl's missed jumper by Bud, and two more jumpers from the boys, one by Pat.

Cal had been watching carefully from the sideline and motioned Bud to come out. "Let's keep the girls in the spotlight, OK?" Bud grinned in reply. On the court, Cal said to Maddy "Stick to Pat like skin. Don't let him bring the ball down. He can't shoot without bringing it down first." To the others, he said "Hit me for an insurance bucket."

Maddy was not much of a factor on offense and the boys knew it. Having only seen Cal make the one basket, they had not yet decided to double him. This time, he stayed out front at twenty-five feet. The ball went inside to Sharon and she got it to Cal wide open to make it 8-4.

Pat tried the same move circling out from the baseline, but this time, he had a shadow. Maddy did not touch the ball, but he had to keep it high. He went up with hardly even nuisance defense from the much shorter Maddy. Because his normal shooting motion had been restricted, though, the shot was off and Sharon got the rebound.

The boys fell back quickly, having been stung by so many break-aways. This time, Sharon's shot was deflected by the tallest of the boys and back it came. "Watch for a pick," Cal said to Maddy as she stayed right with Pat. Sure enough, as Pat circled out, another boy stepped out to rub Maddy off of him.