Chapter 36: Jack Hammer's

I got a hilarious letter from Jake the second week I was back. He wrote about some of the fallout from our confrontation with T.J. at Mike's. It turned out that Mr. Jorgenson really was a hotshot lawyer, but he was a hotshot corporate lawyer for an underwear company. As Jake put it, "When your business card reads Underoos or Maidenform or some such, making threatening noises and ugly faces doesn't work very well, does it?"

Anyway, according to Jake, T.J.'s father started making a big noise, threatening lawsuits and recriminations. Jake's dad was a very well respected member of the community, however, and he was not about to be bowled over by a blowhard corporate lawyer. He sat both Jake and Kayla down and got most of the story from them. As Jake wrote, though, " ... there were some things no kid should ever have to tell a parent." Mr. Lehigh got the gist of it, and he could probably deduce any of the rest if he put his efforts into it. Instead, he took a proactive stance, and called Mr. Jorgenson at home. That call, and another from Miko Gianelli, the owner of Mike's Pizza, apparently convinced T.J.'s father to forget about the damage done to his son's nose, car, and ego. It turned out Miko had had a talk with T.J. about using his parking lot as his makeout place, and he was just as glad to see the problem resolved without further involvement on his part. The net result was that T.J. was pretty much grounded for the rest of his natural life, he had to drop from the football team, and his precious Mustang was taken away. In my opinion, it couldn't have happened to a more deserving fellow.

I was also the happy recipient of several letters from Kayla. She didn't mention anything about the fallout of our confrontation with T.J., concentrating instead on simple stories about life back home. Kyle's adventures in walking and learning to run featured prominently in her letters, since she was spending a lot of time over at the Jacks house, helping Jaimie pack for college.

Jaimie's parents were opposed to sending her to the University of Iowa, but they did compromise with her by agreeing she could attend Grinnell College, about an hour away from Iowa City. Mr. and Mrs. Jacks knew they would find ways to spend many of their weekends together, but they still felt going to different schools, and spending some time away from each other, was a productive step.

Maybe it was. I was happy for Jake. His girlfriend was at least going to be close, and he had a car at school. I had a car, but the girl I really wanted was still a long way away for another year. And, beyond that, she hadn't shared with me her college choices, so our future was very cloudy. How could one letter, even one bit of news, make you happy for your friends, and yet depressed for yourself, all at the same time?

Our first three games of the season were all away games. We spent a lot of time in the bus, traveling to the University of Miami, Mississippi State, and the University of Tennessee. The professors had also been busy creating work for me, so I had a lot to do as we motored around the Southeast. In addition, I kept on writing to Kayla. I made sure I sent her a letter from each of our destinations. I thought the different postmarks would be interesting for her.

When I was on campus, I managed to catch up with some of my friends. Erin, Alex, and I got together when our schedules permitted for lunch, usually twice a week, and I also ran into Westy one afternoon. I was just coming out of GPA, which for some unknown reason campus maps always listed as Turlington Hall, even though I never heard anybody refer to it that way. Westy was just crossing Union from the Plaza of the Americas, and we practically ran into each other before we recognized each other.

Figures, I said to myself with a little disgust. A student population of 40,000 and I get to run into one of the few people I really, really dislike.

But I stopped anyway.

"Westy. How you doing?"

"Hey, Porter. Doing okay. How's the team this year?"

"We're gonna do okay. How's the swim team looking?"

He grinned his shark grin. "Got a couple new freshman girls on the team that are just looking ripe for picking," he said.

"You never change, do you?" I said, letting some of my disgust show.

It didn't bother him any more than it had when we lived together, though. "Fuck, no," he said. His head was swiveling around while he talked with me, checking out the array of coeds swirling around us as if he was surveying the offerings at an all-you-can-eat buffet. "Already nailed four bitches this semester. Looking for Number Five right now."

"Well, if you have any trouble finding her, you can always fall back on your old standby," I said as I started turning away. "Maureen's probably still waiting for you in the john at Reitz."

I expected him to get pissed at me, but he just laughed. "Not a bad idea," he said. "She's always good for a quick hummer. Got tired of waiting for you to sweep her off her feet."

"I don't think I'm that strong," I said, but he had already turned away. With a backwards wave, he strode off in pursuit of a lanky blonde in cutoffs and a peasant blouse who was walking toward the door of GPA.

I could only shake my head as I watched him catch up with her. He reached out to grasp her elbow and bent down to say something in her ear. I would have liked to warn her, but they were gone in moments. Maybe she carries Westy immunity. One could only hope.

It was my turn to pick up a couple of Gator Tails for lunch and bring them back to the Plaza for the girls and me. Erin and Alex were already there when I arrived with the sandwiches, lounging on the grass in our favorite spot. We tried to stay away from the Hare Krishnas and their free vegetarian lunches, so we had picked out a tree on the opposite side of the Plaza for our lunchtime location. There were a couple of clumps of students interspersed among the trees smoking dope, but we could ignore them easily enough. I handed each girl her sandwich, and Alex handed me a can of Coke.

"So, world traveler, where are you off to this week?" Alex broke off some of the edge of her roll and put it on the paper before taking a delicate bite.

"Let's see ... if it's Tuesday, it must be Knoxville."

"Really? The University of Tennessee?" Erin looked surprised and pleased for some reason.

"Yeah. They're in the SEC, so it's a conference game. Why?"

"Oh, my brother goes there, that's all," she said.

"Oh," I said. "So how come you didn't go there too?"

She smiled. "Because my brother went there."

"You don't get along with your brother, I take it."

Alex chuckled. Erin just smiled and said, "No, we get along just fine. He's an older brother, that's all. He's got his life, I've got mine." She took a sip from her can of Green River. "I had to follow him all through school, and I thought college should be my own experience."

I shrugged. "You're probably right," I said. "My older brother tried community college, didn't like it. He's working now instead. Him and his girlfriend just moved in together, and my mom's having a cow about it. But I think they'll get married pretty soon, if only to get Mom off their case."

"You've got a younger brother, too, don't you?" asked Alex.

I couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, I do. If Michael and I turned my dad's hair gray, Stephen made him pull it all out. He's sixteen, going to be a junior this year, and he and his girlfriend have an eighteen-month-old little boy."

"Oh, my God," exclaimed Erin. "That's right. I had forgotten that story. A sixteen-year-old daddy."

"Well ... yeah. He's a sixteen-year-old daddy. But he might not be a sixteen-year-old father."

"Huh?" Alex looked puzzled.

"It's a long story," I said, looking down at my sandwich.

"We've got time," prompted Alex.

"Maybe some other time," I said. "Suffice it to say he's got his own problems, and where he might go to college is the least of them."

"Boy, I'd say," declared Erin. She shook her head. "Well, at least you're forging ahead and representing the Porter clan in college."

"Yeah," I said. "And I'm doing such a spectacular job of it."

Our starting lineup gelled pretty quickly. Lightspeed picked up on the advantages of our switching coverages and used it as an excuse to run all over the field. I started to think of him more like Weasel in the early days. He was losing the discipline and the structure that made him such a standout in high school. Bryan, Dan, Jesse, and I huddled on our bus trip to Knoxville to work on the problem.

"Maybe we should sit him down for a couple of games," I suggested. "See if we can't get him to watch and learn."

"Not a good idea," said Bryan. "Pick brought him here because he's fast and he's talented. Let's find a way to tap into his skills."

"You're right," agreed Jesse. "We've either got to get him working within our system, or change the system to accommodate what he brings."

Thinking about Lightspeed and Weasel gave me an idea. "Hold on a sec," I said. I thought about it for a minute. "I've got an idea, and it's such a new experience for me, I'd like to savor the moment."

"Savor away," said Bryan with a chuckle.

I got up and made my way up the aisle to where Spencer was sitting. He and Luke were playing gin, something I didn't do with Spencer anymore. I had learned my lesson.

"Spence? Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure." He slid out of the seat and put his hand facedown on his seat. "No peeking," he said teasingly to Luke. Luke just looked disgusted. Been there, done that, I could write the book, I thought. I had to run my summer clinics just to pay off my gin rummy debt to Goldman.

I took Spencer back to our little meeting. He sat down in one of the seats in front of us and leaned his elbow across the back so he could face us.

"What's up, guys?"

"Little Head has an idea, and I think he's still savoring," said Bryan with a smile.

"Come on, give me a break," I said in mock disgust. "I'm using the big head this time." I stayed standing. "Spencer, remember the championship game our senior year?"

"Will you never let me forget it?" Spencer tried to look angry, but I knew he wasn't. It was old news.

"Never," I confirmed. "Actually, I want to be a little more specific. We shut you down because we used Weasel to birddog you."

"I remember it well," he said.

"What would you think about using a friendlier version of that technique to keep track of Lightspeed?"

"What do you mean?" he began, and then I saw the recognition dawn. "Ah. We need to keep him from spiraling out of control. You need somebody to keep him close so he's not running wild out there."

"Right."

"And you want me to do it."

"I'm asking if you would take it on," I said. "You're the logical choice. You're lined up right next to him."

"And you'd like me to do it," he said. He looked steadily at me. "I mean you, Boss. You want me to do it."

I took a deep breath. This should have been a request from the team captains, but Spencer knew where it was coming from, and why. He was only making sure everybody else knew, as well.

"Yeah," I said. "I'd like you to do it."

He smiled. "No problem," he said. "I think it's a workable plan. We'll get him into the swing of things in no time."

"Okay," said Bryan. "When we get to Knoxville, we'll set up after warm-ups and work on signals." He was back in control, now that the decision had been made. "You guys go on back to your seats. Dan and I need to talk about this."

Jesse, Spencer, and I all glanced around at each other. "Okay," I said, and the three of us got up and left the two co-captains to arrange the drills around our new plan.

"Don't worry about it," murmured Jesse in my ear as I sat down in my customary seat. "You gotta give them that much."

"I know," I said quietly. "I'm not here to subvert them."

"They know that, just like they know who the team leader really is. They'll take what you give them, and nothing will be said one way or the other. It's a good thing to remember."

I looked up at him, leaning over toward me with a serious expression on his face. "I will. You know I will."

Jesse smiled. "Yeah. I know, Boss."

"Not you too," I growled. It dismayed me that Spencer's offhanded label might have impacted Jesse.

He shrugged, and then he smiled. "It is what it is," he said. He put his hand on my shoulder, my friend and compatriot, and then he turned to go to his own seat. He picked up the headphones to his Walkman, pushed the button to start up the cassette, and he settled back in his seat and picked up a magazine.

We got another surprise when we arrived in Knoxville. There was a reporter and a photographer for Soccer Today magazine waiting for us at our hotel. After we checked in and dumped our luggage, we got back on the bus and headed over to one of the practice fields. We spent the next two hours working the kinks out of our muscles from the long bus ride, and working on the Spencer-Lightspeed tandem trick. After practice, the photographer had us line up, a few at a time, for pictures. He had a bucket of mud he insisted on spattering us with, telling us we didn't get grubby enough during our practice session on the dry field. He ended up taking a couple of team photos, individual shots, and then he grouped us by defense, offense, and middle. He also took some seemingly random group shots, lying on the ground in front of the groups he had posed, so he could get the sky and the tops of the trees into his frame.

By the time we were done, we were wiped out. I was looking forward to a long, hot shower and a big dinner. I had a letter to Kayla ready for stamps, and I wanted to get it in the mail that night before I went to bed.

We shuffled back onto the bus, which took us back to our hotel. I was rooming with Sugar on this trip, and he let me take my shower first, for which I was grateful. I got dressed while Sugar took his time under the water, and I lay down to rest my eyes while I waited.

I was just getting my hand underneath Alex's blouse when Sugar shook me awake. I had a momentary sense of confusion, not remembering where I was and regretting the dissipation of my dream.

"Dinnertime," announced Sugar. "Time to get your butt out of the sack."

"I like it here," I grumbled.

Sugar laughed. "I'm sure you do, Head. You'll prob'ly like it at the dinner table, too."

My stomach let it be known it would also like me to be at the dinner table, so I got up and looked around for my sandals. Sugar picked them up from the floor at the foot of the bed and tossed them down next to me. "You want me to pound you in the chest to make sure your heart's beating, too?"

"Not necessary," I said. "I don't have a heart."

"I hear ya, friend," he commiserated. "No heart, no gettin' it broke. I'm with ya on that one."

It had been hot in Florida when we left, and it was hot in Tennessee. When we got to the restaurant, I was glad to see giant pitchers of icy water on the tables. I drained one glass and refilled it right away. I needed to stay hydrated for our game the next day, and I was feeling dried out.

I was still feeling a little dragged out after dinner. I dropped Kayla's letter in the mail slot by the front desk. I sat with some of my teammates in the lounge and watched the Knicks take on the Celtics in a preseason game. It was a snoozer; Boston and Bird were all over the Knicks. I began to idly wonder why Boston decided to pronounce their team name with an S sound, instead of a K, or hard C, the way it was supposed to be pronounced. I couldn't come up with a reason, and tired of the mental game quickly. I got up and headed upstairs to bed.

I ended up sleeping for over ten hours, but I woke up feeling great. I met up with the team at the breakfast table, and then Jesse, Spencer, and I walked around campus for a while, doing a little exploring. Our game wasn't until mid-afternoon, so we had some time to kill.

After lunch, we got in the bus and rode over to the Tennessee soccer facility. We changed into our game uniforms and trotted out to one of the practice fields to loosen up. We went through our warm-up drills in the sunshine, and then Pick called us over to the sidelines.

"Now, normally I'd let you boys work up a sweat before the game," he announced. "Today, though, with it bein' so bright and warm, I'm gonna suggest y'all take a breather and grab yourself a spot of shade. Gatorade is in the cooler, so he'p yourselves. I don't want to see none of you without a cup o' juice in your hands from now until game time. Okay?"

And so that's what we did. In retrospect he should have kept us moving, though. The referees and line judges were late getting to the field, having gone to the football stadium instead of the soccer stadium, and so the game started nearly thirty minutes late. By then we were pretty lethargic. In fact, I felt like I was waterlogged from drinking so much. I could almost hear myself sloshing as I trotted out onto the field. I really hoped I didn't have to call a bathroom break because of all the Gatorade I consumed.