Chapter 35: Friday Night

"Warrior"

Luis

"What a shit hole!" Mike Holloway exclaimed as we walked into the visitor's locker room at East.

"Worse than our visitors. We're going to have to work on it," Paul, our quarterback, contributed to the critique.

"Shocking. Simply shocking." Thank you Jamaal.

"They can take away our cleanliness, but they can't break our spirit!"

"Geezus Limp Dick, lighten up on the philosophical crap."

"I do believe the gentleman from Italy has a point."

"Shut the fuck up, Jamaal. And drop the cheesy British accent. Go back to the fake Jamaican one."

"Who is responsible for feeding Holloway?" Paul boomed out to the team as we spread out and started preparing.

"Not me, he bit my hand last time," came from the other side of the room.

"Christ, is he hungry again?"

"Can't he wait to eat East's defensive line?"

All the while Mike just stalked around growling at everyone and everything. Now and then someone would get in his face and growl back. Most of us just ignored him and let him get on with his way of dealing with the pregame stress and prep.

I dumped my stuff in the locker next to Mike's and put on my running shoes. I was already dressed for my pregame appearance. "Lap time!" I yelled as I headed towards the door.

"Give us a damned minute," came from more than one voice. It did take all those Textiles a bit of time to change into the shorts, t-shirt, and running shoes.

The captains before me had started the ritual of running the perimeter of the field before dressing as a way to get a feel for the lay of the land and check out the opposition if they were hanging about. We saw no reason to change it.

This year's captains and the most probable candidates for next year started our slow jog around the field. Mike, Paul, Michael Simms, and I, representing the current co-captains, were out front. Jason and a few juniors were behind us listening and learning.

"Turf looks good," growled Mike, still in his big, bad bear mode.

"They spend a lot of money on this field and it shows," I added.

"Mike! Luis! Paul! Michael!" we heard shouted from the home team entryway. James Robinson, East's quarterback, trotted out to meet us.

"James!" Paul, Michael, and I shouted back. Mike was still growling.

"I see Mike is in full pre-game."

"Just throw raw meat his way and he'll be happy."

"I see you got Program week, eh Luis?"

"How did you guess?"

"It must have been your new workout gear. Don't fret, a couple of our guys got it this week as well."

"Thankfully they changed that crap about dressing out midfield."

"Yeah. That would have been impossible."

We introduced James to the Juniors, everyone shaking hands. Even a growling Mike.

"You know," James said, "I'm not scared by Mike. You and Michael looking so calm, though..."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other during the game."

"True. As I raise my hands with each touchdown we score."

"I was thinking more a picture of looking down on you and helping you up after yet another sack," Michael said calmly.

The banter continued for a few minutes, then James had to head in to get ready. After he had gone, Jason said, "That was strange."

"What do you mean?"

"We're about to go head-to-head with them and we're all friendly."

"Well, for 48 minutes of game time, once a year, we won't be friends, but that leaves a lot of the rest of our lives."

"Huh?" one of the other juniors said, as they all looked a bit perplexed.

"You'll find a lot of the members of other teams you know from Pop Warner football and some you'll be teammates with in college." Paul said. "Hell, you might end up dating one of their sisters or cousins. No need to be unfriendly off the field. Being friends might work out down the road."

"I think I get it," Jason said.

"Good. Never hurts to have friends and contacts. No matter where you make them. And, if you decide to pursue a career in football, these might be the guys you'll depend on in the future." Paul, ever the businessman.

We continued our lap, discussing the field, the weather, and how the lights would impact us. Trivial things like which side of the field to choose if we had that choice at the coin toss. How the crown on the field would affect the passing and running games. East's field had a wicked slope with the middle of the field being about a foot and a half higher than the sidelines. It was good for drainage, but horrible for precision passing when you're used to a flatter field.

Of course, Mike growled all the way around. When we passed the sidelines area for East, he made it a point to growl at each bench, as if they were filled with Bulldogs.

We finished our circuit of the empty stadium and headed back to the visitor's locker room. The palace that it wasn't. I had a flash of a visitor's locker room we used at a military school when I was in middle school. That building was well over 100 years old and the locker room was in the basement. Leaking pipes and puddles of water on the floor. I'm sure there was mold and fungi on every surface. After that first time playing them, anytime we traveled, we went and returned fully dressed and bypassed their dungeon.

It was back into the chaos and calm of the locker room. I put on my under armor and Junior's support equipment, grabbed my music player, put the phones on, cranked up a random selection of classic rock, and headed to the training rooms for taping.

Nope, we don't just throw on pads and tug on a jersey, at least for those of us in the trenches. Knees and ankles undergo a tremendous amount of stress for linemen. Granted, the braces we now have saved thousands of knees, but taping still helps and protects the ankles.

"Ready, Luis?" the trainer Del Giorno asked.

"Yep, go to it!" I turned the volume up and let Pink Floyd rattle through my brain while I focused on Zenning out. I had to trust the trainers. They were experts at taping. Had to be. Tape a joint wrong and you can cause more damage than not taping it.

For me it was ankles, knees, wrists, and hands.

Now and then, he'd ask if it felt right. I'd flex a joint and nod, then go back to the music.

Once the basics were done, I finished gearing up and putting on my cleats. The last bits of tape went on over my shoes and to secure the knee braces, forearm pads, and gloves.

"Easier to do it here than on the field, eh?"

"Much! Thanks."

"Don't thank me until after the game and all your limbs are still attached."

We laughed at the standard joke. I headed back into the locker room and made a quick round checking in with teammates. I growled with Mike, laid my hand on Jamaal's shoulder for a second as he alternated squeezing a tennis ball and throwing against the wall, only to catch it again with the other hand.

He was completely focused on it.

Someone was blasting "Youth of a Nation" by P.O.D. through their headphones. Let's hope we don't take two to the chest.

"You ready Jason?" He had a bit of a wild look in his eyes.

"Sure."

Seriously?"

"Nope. Nervous."

"That's okay. Just channel it. When you get on the field, do it just like in practice."

"I'll try..."

"Do, don't try. You'll be fine. Okay?"

He nodded his head. His eyes looked a little less wild. I'd talk to Paul about calming him down in the huddle.

I moved on and made contact with most of the team. Some wanted complete solitude before a game and we respected that.

"You ready Paul?"

"Raring to go. You?"

"I plan on becoming very familiar with James this evening. I need to see if he's hiding some Higgs Bosons I can release."

"Good. How's Jason doing?"

"A little wired. Just calm him down in the huddle. He'll do fine."

"Great. Now, let's get out there and get warmed up."

We gathered the team and went out to the field for our warm-up. The different units did their own drills.

Connecting.

Getting in the groove.

We all stole glances over at East as they did the same.

Just before the end of the session, we casually gathered toward mid-field, in the center of the field, yet still on "Our Side". With Paul out front. Standing at mid-field, he turned to us and started the Haka chant.

The stands were already filled. Our student section went nuts. The family and friends got into it quickly. Everyone shouting, clapping, and stomping along with us. The East team just stopped wherever they were and stared.

Hard.

Mouths open.

Eyes wide.

Their fans, quiet.

We clicked.

Flowed.

Became one team.

One goal.

Magic!

Rebbecca

"Becky, why don't you go sit with your friends," Mom said to me, pointing up the stands where the Nakeds were gathered.

"That's okay. I like sitting with you and Dad."

"Nope. Not tonight. Go sit with your friends."

"O-Okay."

I started to head towards the Nakeds feeling ... rejected? Yes. Rejected by mother.

Two steps later I realized I was surrounded by clothed people and I was naked. Completely exposed.

She really does love me, I said to myself. She understood. I needed to be around them for my own well being. I needed to belong. I needed the support. Because for the first time in a few days I felt totally exposed.

On display.

Vulnerable.

SHIT!

What is it the Japanese say? The tall nail gets the hammer? Why do I feel like I need to look up to see if one is coming down on me?

I will not become invisible.

My Mountain needs me. He needs my support.

Suddenly, I could feel the Nakeds reaching out to me. Pulling me into their group. Their support.

The community.

I relaxed and moved as gracefully as I could, being invisible teaches you smooth, non-noticeable movements. Except now they were anything but invisible.

And I liked the attention.

Rosalee reached out to me and a second later I was enveloped in the warmth, support, and love of the Nakeds.

I belonged.

"Oh goodie! Another naked broad to look at!" said some bozo a couple of rows up from us.

"Yeah. And they have to do what we tell them. Something about requests."

Shirley turned toward them, "They are called reasonable requests. And, they don't apply outside of school hours. Yes, we're required to be naked at a school event, but we don't have to take requests."

"Well ain't that the shits."

"Look, don't touch!" Rosalee said with a laugh, a flip of her hair, and posing with the one leg crossover.

"Why don't we go somewhere, darling?"

"Ooh! Tell ya' what sweets. You go down and ask that big guy wearing number 54 if I can go off with you. He's my boyfriend."

"I ... Uhm..."

"Shame. It might have been fun. Toodles." She gave them a haughty little wave, another flip of her hair, and turned back to me. "How are you doing, Becca?"

I gave an involuntary sigh, "Okay. I think."

"Your first real public display of nudity?"

"Other than school and home, yeah."

"Students are already used to us, even after just a week. It's the outsiders like our friends a few rows up that make it a bit of challenge."

"You handled them well."

"Most of the idiots are all talk, no bite. Easy to put them in their place."

"What if they, ahem..."

"Get violent?"

"Yeah."

"That's what Luis and Mike are for."

"But, they're down there."

"True. But look at the other Nakeds. Not to mention I've got some training of my own. Can't be the school pretend slut and not know how to defend yourself."

"Oh! They're getting ready to do the Haka-thingy!" Jane Chung shouted.

All attention was now on the field, not us Nakeds. And what a performance it was.

Primal, yet structured.

Focused, yet encompassing.

Blasting outwards, yet gathering from within and pulling from without.

My mind was automatically taking pictures and capturing the different textures of the moment for later. The energy of the players. The reactions of the East team. The building excitement of the West fans. The agitation of the East supporters.

The humorous position the officials were forced into taking. Part amused, part questioning, part preparing for the objections.

The musicality of the chant, with the earthiness of stomps and slaps.

The cheerleaders were encouraging the fans in the stands while also caught up in the ancient ritual playing out on the field. The attention temporarily off a very naked Margie shaking more than her pom poms.

Even before the final stomp, slap, and grunt finished echoing around the stadium, the team joined up and headed back to the locker room. The East players looked stunned and moved off the field much slower and in disjointed groups. Their fans were beginning to shout at the officials that West was doing something illegal and unfair. Wisely, the stripped-shirt crew moved to the center of the field, ready for the team introductions and the coin toss.

"That was great!" Ginny exhaled.

"A worthy performance," exclaimed Tim Carter, our Naked theater geek.

Everyone agreed that it was much more powerful than the impromptu performances at school. Which caused parents and fans around us to ask about it, allowing the Nakeds and other students to be storytellers. I guess this is how myths are born.

Our side of the field felt like we had already won. Now to make that a reality.

While still musing, and processing the pictures in my head, the teams were announced and ran onto the field.

Rosalee grabbed my hand and held it tight as Mike, Luis, and the other captains headed out to the middle of the field for the coin toss. "Here we go!"

Luis

We met the East captains at midfield and began the ritual of the coin toss. The East players still had a shell-shocked look and the refs were grinning.

We lost, chose our side of the field, and stood in the proper positions while the referee made the announcements. After shaking hands with the East captains, we headed back to the sidelines.

"Ready?" Paul asked.

"You bet," I said. "Relaxed and ready."

Mike just growled.

Each of us got our game faces on in our own way. I gathered the defense line in a huddle. We didn't talk, just joined energy as we waited to go on after the kickoff. East was receiving, so we'd be up first after the kicking team stopped them.

Which they did at East's 42 yard line.

My world became a few yards of turf and the faceless, nameless bodies in East uniforms keeping me from tackling the ball carrier.

Setting the defense line, choosing my point of attack, signaling the linebackers, and playing head games with the East offensive line were the mainstays of my entire universe.

While I watched the fingers and feet of the lineman across from me, my peripheral vision watched for the twitch of the Center's arm that would start the play and the mayhem to follow.

My opponent had his weight back on his legs, not on his hands. Pass play, my mind said, as I just allowed the moment to be.

The center moved the ball and I exploded forward, shifting to a gap between the center and the guard. My shoulder pads hit each as I used my hands and arms to open a lane between them.

For a split second, it seemed I'd beat the ball into the backfield. Until I had a major collision with the fullback, who was faking a run into the line. Instinctively, I tied up the two linemen and the fullback, allowing our linebacker, Michael, free access to the backfield.

James just managed to throw the ball before his meeting with Michael. A second later, I was helping him stand as the ball sailed into the sidelines.

He nodded his thanks as we all untangled and headed back to our side line of the line.

Second and ten.

Line up. Repeat. Always probing for weaknesses in the other team. They did manage to run a sweep for a first down. A particular play we hadn't seen from them before. I guess both sides were planning surprises today.

We did stop them with a fourth down and four yards to go. As I trotted off the field, I grabbed one of the tackles from the punt receiving team. "You ready?"

"Yep."

"Watch for a fake. I wouldn't put anything past them."

"We're ready."

I got to the sideline and stood besides Mike.

"Not bad, Rubber Dickie."

"I should have had James on that first play."

"Next time."

"Well, I hope it's a long time off."

He just grinned. "I'd plan on it."

Just then, their punting team hiked the ball and all hell broke loose.

"Fake!" Our entire sideline screamed.

A quick screen to what should have been their gunner running down field to cover the punt got them a first down.

"I was hoping for longer than that," I said to Mike as I trotted back on the field. Headed right towards the tackle I had just talked to. He was shaking his head as he came towards me.

"I know. I know." His eyes truly contrite. I just nodded.

Enough said.

Back to concentrating on the few yards of turf in front of me. Thirty seconds of planning. Seven seconds of mayhem. Repeat.

They probed, we probed. I did get to meet James up close and personal before he got the ball off, once. Michael was right there with me.

It wasn't enough to stop them from another first down.

Third and eight on our 35 yard line. I lined up on the other side of the center from where I had been so far during the game. I felt a shift in their line and watched the weight on hands and feet. Just before the ball moved, I did a roll to the side and came back into my stance just as the ball moved.

I was through the line without much resistance. James was taking his steps back into what he thought would be a pocket.

His arm was just coming up to throw.

I grabbed it. I almost said thank you.

Then I took off towards the goal line.

I'm big. And, for a lineman, I'm fairly fast.

Not that fast, though.

Five yards into my victory march, I had an East player on each leg and another on my back. They brought me down only fifteen yards from where I stripped James of the ball.

Once on the ground, it was all hands and elbows as I did my best to hold onto my prize and the East players did their best to relieve me of my burden.

A couple of centuries after being buried under a small skyscraper, I was able to stand and flip the ball to the line judge.

It was high-fives, butt pats, and back slaps as we headed to the sideline and the offense came out onto the field.

I missed the first offensive play as I was recovering. Apparently I didn't miss much, because when I could focus on the field, it was second down and seven yards to go. Ah, a running play using Jason. Perfect. We're setting them up. Just like the game plan called for.

Rebbecca

While I understand the game, even enjoy it when I'm connected to it, like watching Jason play, I really need to learn more about it.

Watching My Mountain pounding into others and having them pound into him is something new.

"Are you Okay?" Rosalee asked, as she squeezed my hand.

"Yeah. It's just..."

"Yeah. I'm starting to feel that when Mike is in the game."

We watched. Quiet during the play. Standing and shouting in joy when we moved the ball forward. Groaning when a play didn't work, or work as well as it could have.

"This is maddening!"

"Feel a bit more invested than when you're just watching your brother play?"

"Definitely."

"It's exciting, isn't it?"

"And ... painful."

With Rosalee's hand to keep me grounded to the game, I let my mind take in the larger picture. The bands from both sides competing. The fans trying to out-support their respective teams. The flashes of color, and panties, from cheerleaders, and Margie's flash of everything! The action on the field, the drama on the sidelines as the opposing generals plotted their next moves.

The intensity of the trench warfare that Luis and Mike were engaged in. The cavalry troops of receivers and defense backs as they moved to out flank the opposition. The backs throwing chaos into the mix with each play.

Did the guy running into the line have the ball?

Will the safety running towards the line before the snap keep coming and blitz, leaving a hole in the defense to be exploited?

Was the defensive end going to rush or pass cover? Could the play take advantage of that?

Constant probing with the occasional artillery barrage of passing or kicking to break up the action.

And, the first quarter ended.

Scoreless.

My Mountain and Mike looked like they had barely survived an alien invasion. But, they held their heads high and were busy lifting the team up. Paul was deep in conversations with Jase, the coaches, and the rest of the running backs and receivers.

"I see Jason is getting some attention from the coaches," Rosalee said. We were still holding hands. The other Nakeds looked as war worn as the team as they recovered, getting ready for another twelve minutes of screaming and groaning.

"Something is up. I do hope the other team isn't paying too much attention."

"They look too occupied on their own sideline."

"Yeah, but look up at the coaches box. That's where the real intelligence comes from." I pointed to the area above the fans on the East side of the field.

"Oh! I thought that was just press people and the announcers and such."

"Both teams have their own areas where assistant coaches sit, watching, and talking to the coaches on the sidelines."

"I see there is much to learn."

"And, now you have incentive to look beyond music and the trailer park."

She hugged me while laughing. "Friends for life, no matter how far apart we live?"

"Done!" I hugged her back. As her breasts pressed into mine, I flashed to what might have been ... and still might be.

Yum. Maybe?

The sounds of the second quarter pulled me from that comfortable place. In some ways like my Cave with Luis, but totally different. Yet, the same.

Luis

We still had the ball at the quarter break. Our concern on the sideline, as we recovered, was the break in momentum. The game plan didn't call for trick plays until the second half. Yet, maybe now was the time.