Chapter 3

Mon Aug 19

Everyone in the locker room had obviously heard the news by the time I arrived at practice this morning. Chad stuck by me while my uniform was issued and I changed. He spoke with several of the players to make sure they understood that he was happy about not being the quarterback, and excited about the prospects the new offensive schemes provided. Still, they treated me like a bit of a pariah--something I had expected.

The team meeting before practice also helped as Coach addressed the entire team. “Gentlemen, you’ve probably all heard by now that we have a new starting quarterback. I’m sure the name Ladner is familiar to many of you. Coach Ladner was the best damn coach this school ever had. In his thirty years here, he won sixteen conference championships and a state championship. He also never had a losing season, something I can’t claim. In my nine years, we’ve had four losing seasons, something I’m not terribly proud of. When I was Coach Ladner’s offense assistant, he told me frequently that I needed to be less conservative with my formations and play calling. After the display here Friday, I fear that I must agree with him. We’ve still been using the same playbook I used my first year as head coach.”

Everyone was visibly startled when he threw his old playbook back over his shoulder and papers flew everywhere. “Today we have a new playbook and new formations to learn,” he announced, holding aloft a copy from Saturday.

“You saw what happened Friday, even with the defensive coach setting and guiding the defense after the offense lined up. These new formations and new plays are sheer genius on a scale I’ve never seen. Once we learn these, there is no doubt in my mind that we will be a contender for the conference championship.

“I know there will be some resistance to the arrival of Coach Ladner’s grandson Jim, but I ask you to think about three things. First, the player he is replacing is actually happy about being replaced. Second, Mr. Ladner not only knows the system inside and out already, but you all saw how well he led his team Friday. He successfully led a group of freshmen who have never played even a single down of high school ball against the experienced varsity defense.

“Finally, each of you can choose to lick your wounds and hang your tail between your legs thinking that you got beat by a bunch of freshmen, or you can realize that it was the successful execution of the plays in this book that beat you and consider how big an advantage these new plays will give us this season. Personally, I think everyone here today should thank Mr. Ladner for taking the chance he did Friday when he spoke out and offered to run laps if his idea didn’t work out. Having said all that, we have a long day ahead of us. Everyone line up for warm-ups,” he ordered.

There was still a little resistance, but the extra practicing kept everyone sufficiently busy and tired enough afterwards that they didn’t have the energy to give me more than an occasional annoyed look. The defense took a few cheap shots at me, but I bounced back up and ignored each one, overlooking my growing collection of bruises as best I could.

Tue Aug 20

Tuesday was more of the same, but the harassment tapered off to just two minor incidents. I could see the wheels starting to turn in their heads as they began to fully appreciate the potential of the offensive sets.

The mood after dinner was one of interested concern as Mom, Dad, and Amy watched me closely. I told them during dinner that we needed to talk. “I need each of you to promise to let me finish and then give me a day to prove what I’m saying before deciding that I’m crazy,” I started. That definitely piqued their interest.

“Should Amy be in here?” Dad asked cautiously.

“Yes, I owe her an explanation about something, and this is the explanation,” I replied. I noticed the pride in Amy’s face when I said that.

I took a deep breath and started. “You have all commented on how much I’ve changed since the accident. The reason is that when I came to, someone else’s memories flooded into my head. They were from some man named Jacob Greene who will die in 2011. Just don’t ask me how that works, okay?

“The day after the car accident, I cooked an omelet for Amy for breakfast and then fixed dinner that night. As Amy so eloquently commented, before the accident I would burn toast if I tried to make it. Jacob Greene’s memories of the rigors of the first month of football practice were what spurred me into getting off my butt and getting into shape beforehand.

“I have the memories of his childhood, youth, and college, of being in the NFL, of his married life, of his children who were grown and had families of their own, and I have the memories of his pain at the death of his wife from cancer four years before his own death. I know what accomplishments he was proud of as well as what he regretted about his life. Those memories have tempered the way I look at life now. I have a fourteen-year-old body and mind, with the memories and understanding of a seventy-year-old man. I understand what it takes to raise children, to excel at a job, to support a family, and to maintain a healthy relationship with a wife for four decades. I understand how parents want to hug their kids one minute and strangle them the next. I know how they always wonder if they were too strict or not strict enough and how they agonize over watching them leave when they grow up.

“Jacob was quite a sports buff. I’ve been writing things down and have a list of many professional and college baseball, football, and basketball teams that made the playoffs, as well as who won the playoffs from now through the summer of 2011. I also have his memories of the winners of the Preakness, Kentucky Derby, and the Belmont Stakes for the same period as well as hundreds of other horse races each year where the payout was huge. Unfortunately, for Jacob, he didn’t bet on many of those races, but his experiences are part of my memories and I can recall them in detail. I also know a few stocks each year that will perform considerably above average as well as when the stock market will have big upturns and downturns.

“What I want to ask Dad to do is to go to the Del Mar Racetrack Friday to place a bet for me. I have fifty dollars I earned from the paper route and want him to bet most of it for me on the superfecta in the sixth race. I want him to place four, ten-dollar superfecta bets in that race so it won’t look like he has inside information. The one that wins should pay out more than forty thousand dollars. I want you to use part of what you win to take Mom somewhere nice for the weekend, pay off the mortgage on the house, and put half of what’s left after taxes into a savings account for my college. The rest I want to invest in the stock market. It will take a downturn next year, but I know stocks that will continue to grow, and know how to make money even in a bear market.”

“I have to work Friday,” Dad reminded me. I was actually surprised that was his first comment.

“You won’t have to. About this time tomorrow night, a huge riot is going to start in Watts. It will grow over the next couple of days and will last six days. Thousands of people will be injured or arrested. Some will die. Large parts of the area will be burned. Every spare cop in the city will be there to keep it from spreading, as well as the National Guard. Believe me; you won’t have to work Friday.”

“And if you’re wrong?” Mom asked.

“If I’m wrong then there won’t be a riot tomorrow night.”

“You do know how strange this sounds,” Dad commented.

“No stranger than it feels, I assure you. Besides, the doctor gave me an extremely thorough physical before signing the release for football,” I reminded them.

I stopped to let them absorb everything so far. Yeah, I twisted the truth a bit, but I didn’t want to tell them their son was dead. I was surprised to find out that there were no more questions--at least not until we went to bed.

“So, who am I having sex with?” Amy asked nervously.

“Do you think some stranger would have bothered to warn Joyce or would have walked away from her offer to let her make sure it was what she wanted?” I asked as I gently brushed the hair out of her face. She slept in her bed that night at my suggestion since Mom had caught us together so often lately. It was a good call as I heard my bedroom door open in the middle of the night before closing quietly. Amy was happy to come snuggle with me when I got home from delivering papers.

Wed Aug 21

By Wednesday, the hazing had almost stopped, and the offense was catching on. Several of the guys actually asked good questions during and after practice. There were a still a couple of them glowering at me, though.

Thr Aug 22

Dad commented this morning that the late news last night reported a disturbance in the Watts area. By this morning, it had become a full-blown riot. He did look at me oddly but didn’t say anything else.

Warm-ups Thursday morning were uneventful, but that was the calm before the storm. In our first huddle, Brad asked Craig Washington, our black left tackle, why he wasn’t in Watts looting with the rest of the ‘jungle bunnies.’

“What the fuck is your problem?” I shouted at Brad.

Everyone else backed away a step or two as Brad sized me up. “So, what, you’re a nigger lover?” Brad taunted.

“I’m a teammate,” I answered tersely, “and if you’re going to start name calling, maybe you should start with stupid Polack,” I goaded, knowing how sensitive he was about it.

Damn, but Brad was slow. He started his windup and I wasn’t sure he’d be finished before practice was over. I shifted my stance into one my old self knew very well but left my arms down at my sides. Only when Brad’s fist was getting close did I move, redirecting his punch into the air and stepping out of the way as I tripped him and sent him sprawling face-first into the turf.

Sputtering imprecations and threats, he scrambled to get up, charging me with his shoulders lowered. I could see why he was an offensive lineman and not a defensive lineman as I easily sidestepped and sent him sprawling again. “Are you going to play football today or keep digging for fishing worms?” I goaded.

I didn’t take my eyes off Brad but saw Coach in my peripheral vision watching from the second row of players that had now ringed us. “Fuck you, Fag!” shouted Brad, trying again to land a punch. Yet again, he ate grass, this time ending up on the ground in front of Coach.

“Wilkoski!” Coach shouted at Brad, “My office right now.” He watched Brad give me another scathing look before finally stomping off the field. Finally, Coach turned back to the team. “Anyone else here have an issue with the race of someone on our team?” he asked in that tone of voice coaches use so well to intimidate. Getting no responses, he headed for his office.

“Ladner,” he hollered from twenty yards away. I knew I was in for it. “You need to pick a permanent replacement for Wilkoski.” Then he strode purposefully towards his office.

There was a good thirty seconds of stunned silence as everyone looked around at everyone else. “Any suggestions?” I asked the other nine guys in the huddle. My pick would have been Don Jefferson, but I was a little worried that choosing a black replacement for Brad might be taken the wrong way.

“Jefferson,” Chad offered, his choice seconded by everyone else.

“Jefferson,” I hollered, motioning him over. “You know the plays?” I asked him. He nodded tentatively. “Okay, green 33 on 2,” I called. It took the defense a minute to realize that we were lined up ready to go and Coach Lehman lit into them. I got the feeling he did it more to break the ice and make it seem like everything was back to normal again than because he was truly upset with them.

The rest of practice was the best we’d had by far. Everyone seemed to be concentrating more. Afterwards, I’d just gotten into the shower when Coach hollered across the gym, “Ladner, my office, five minutes.”

He was on the phone when I got there. Not a good omen, but he motioned me inside as he finished the call. I squirmed while he scrutinized me, even though Jacob had used the same tactic as a coach many times in my previous lifetime. “Normally, I would expect to be the one handling a problem like that,” he said calmly.

“I’m sorry, Coach. I just feel it’s the quarterback’s job to deal with crap like that in the huddle,” I answered.

He scrutinized me again. “Like I was saying, normally I would expect to be called on to deal with something like that ... at least for the first few games. In your case, I was even a little concerned about you being up to taking over the leadership of the team before the end of the season since you’re only a freshman. Once again, you have caught me off-guard and have shown poise, a depth of skill and understanding, and a natural ability for leadership that belies your years.

“Don’t think nobody noticed how you avoided actually getting violent with Brad. That trick kept you out of my office earlier and earned you a lot of respect from the rest of the team. You stood up to someone half again your size and three years older than you are and put him in his place. You also short-circuited any more race issues on the team, something I admit I was worried about after last night. I’m beginning to suspect that we have better than a fair chance at the conference championship this year. Keep up the good work,” he said as he stood to dismiss me.

“By the way, who’s the new left tackle?” Coach asked as an afterthought when I reached the door.

“Jefferson,” I answered.

“Good choice,” he commented and waved me out dismissively. I leaned against the wall outside his closed door for support and took a deep breath. Only then did I realize most of the team was waiting anxiously to see what happened. “He wanted to know who the new left tackle was,” I informed them, and suddenly everything was right back to normal again.

Dad took me aside when he got home. “Even with seventy years of memories, what you did today took guts. I’m proud of you Son,” he said. It was apparent that it had been my dad on the phone when I got to Coach’s office.

I also took the time to begin going through the katas my old self knew so well and that I had ignored to this point. I’d been surprised that some semblance of the muscle memory for the moves from my previous life had been there when I needed it against Brad.

Fri Aug 23

Mom and Dad headed for Del Mar early Friday morning after making us promise to behave. I barely had enough energy between practice sessions to leave one of the girls sighing contentedly after each practice. Who’d have thought I’d have three gorgeous girls deciding which of them got to give me a blowjob? Joyce got the nod since she wanted to do something to thank me for helping to get Brad kicked off the team.

At practice today, the last of the bad feelings had finally dissipated as their enthusiasm for the new system grew. The defense still hated it since they couldn’t stop it, but Coach finally reminded them that the longer the offense had the ball, and the more points we scored, the easier time the defense would have.

We got the phone call from Mom at dinner. “We won! We won!” she squealed giddily into the phone. We didn’t get all the details until later, but they won a lot. Two hours later, they pulled into the driveway and Mom practically danced into the house. When she hugged me, bouncing giddily up and down I suddenly realized where Amy got her looks and her build.

“Geez, Mom,” I complained while managing to extricate myself from her grasp before she had a chance to notice the reaction starting south of my belt.

Mom had bet the long shot I gave her in the first race and played with the winnings all day, betting half of what she had in four additional races. She won all four of the bets she made all on her own ending up with $14,000. My bet did even better than I thought, clearing $58,000. When they asked if we wanted to fly to Vegas with them for the weekend, I begged off claiming that I needed lots and lots of rest.

“I guess that means I have to babysit. At least Dawn and Joyce were looking forward to spending the weekend working on their tans,” Amy explained, almost managing to sound put out about it. Half an hour later Mom and Dad left for the airport after packing light.

“We’ll be back Sunday afternoon,” Dad warned. “Any special bets I should make in Vegas?” he asked. I ran and got my list for 1965, writing down three bets: Dodgers over the Twins in seven games; Koufax would pitch a perfect game; and Buffalo over San Diego for the AFL championship 23-0.

“This is pretty cool,” Dad said as he looked over the list. “Try to let the seventy-year-old memories keep you from spending this too crazily,” Dad advised as he handed me a wad of bills. I counted it after they left--$1,000 in tens, and twenties.

Sat Aug 24

Amy spent the night in my bed, falling asleep happily sated after we filled two condoms. She woke me before dawn with an enthusiastic blowjob and we filled yet another condom before I headed out to deliver the papers. We snuggled and fucked again when I got back, eventually showering together.

I spent much of Saturday relaxing and letting my body recuperate. When Mom and Dad called to check on us, Amy answered the phone and let them know I was sleeping, and she was sunbathing with Joyce and Dawn.

Giggling happily, three naked girls fed me lunch. Then Joyce announced that she should be safe today and wanted her turn without a condom--one I happily provided. Dawn got a turn, but we used a condom, and I ate Amy to several orgasms.

Sunday was more of the same, but we started earlier since our parents were due home today. I was soaking in a tub full of warm water and Epsom salts and the girls were gabbing and giggling by the pool when our parents finally got home.

Dad took all of us out to dinner after checking with Dawn and Joyce’s parents. I saw Mom and Dad nodding their approval as I held the chairs for each of the girls. I also walked Dawn and Joyce to their doors when we drove them home.

When we got home, Dad and I sat down and talked. He had opened accounts at the sports books of four different casinos and put a thousand dollars into each account. They also purposely spent and gambled away just over two thousand dollars during their stay at the Tropicana, gaining them entrance into the High Roller Club. That earned them special privileges, including not having to wait in line for tickets to the shows and reduced rates or free upgrades on their room. I could tell they had a very good time. Dad also wanted to know about my plans for the future. I promised that college was definitely in my plans but wasn’t sure if I wanted to major in education and be a coach, major in business and finance to better manage the money we won on bets, or to choose a yet-to-be-decided major.

He seemed satisfied with my answers. While Dad and I talked, Amy took Mom aside and told her not to be surprised to find her in my bed frequently. She explained that she just felt safe and comfortable sleeping with me. She also promised that she would always be fully clothed and would leave my door open. “He is my brother, after all,” she reminded Mom.

Mom tried to warn her that I might “react” to her presence. Amy laughed and Mom blushed when Amy explained that she knew how I reacted and that I spent longer in the shower on the mornings she’d slept cuddled up against me.

Mon Aug 26

This morning ended up being the last day I delivered papers. I called Mr. Dawkins after the morning practice, explaining that I had been promoted to the varsity team and it was a lot harder than the freshman team had been. I promised to continue until he could find a replacement, so he wasn’t left short-handed again. He thanked me but they had someone apply a week ago. He also thanked me for the good job I’d done. They had recovered nearly every customer the previous carrier had managed to lose.

It was a relief to be down to two practices a day instead of three. I also noticed the number of spectators at practice had increased steadily. I initially assumed it was because school started next week. Then I noticed that there were more male adults watching practice than before, many of whom left without picking up one of the players. I assumed they were coaches or scouts from the other teams in our conference.

I was headed for the gym after the second practice when I heard it. The whistle made my heart stop. One short, loud whistle followed by a long whistle rising in pitch a note or two, and one more short whistle. I spun towards it even before my heart started beating again. At first, I only saw a group of spectators but suddenly one of them caught my eye and my heart caught in my throat. Aside from the fact that the girl was drop dead gorgeous, her walk and mannerisms reminded me enough of Jacob’s wife Melody to be more than just coincidence--especially when combined with Melody’s special whistle. Melody had used that whistle to call the boys and/or me into the house for meals for years. “Melody?” I mouthed as we walked quickly towards each other.

I saw her lips answer, “Jacob?” from twenty yards away. It was a tearful reunion, but after an emotional hug and kiss, she finally shooed my stinky, sweaty self to the showers promising to be right there when I finished. I had no idea how Melody got here, and Uncle Fred never said anything about anyone else making the transition with him.

Most of the guys on the team were gawking, open-mouthed, at me when I got to the gym. “One of the Ice Princesses?” Chad asked incredulously. He could see I had no idea what he meant and explained.

Evidently, she was either Bridget or Caitlin Taylor, sixteen-year-old twins who generally eschewed guys. Caitlin had gone out with a couple of guys for one or two dates but never even allowed a kiss. Bridget had never dated, insisting that she was waiting for “Mr. Right.” The hug I got before coming into the locker room was more than any previous date had received from Caitlin, let alone the kiss. My shower was a quick one.

The gorgeous redhead waiting for me was Bridget. Taking the time now to size her up, I estimated her to be nearly six feet tall with a slender but muscular build. Her breasts were medium sized but fit her frame nicely. “I suppose the guys grilled you about me?” she asked flirtatiously.

“So how did you get here too?” I asked.

“At first, I was surprised. When I thought about it, I thought you did it somehow. I heard what you said in the seconds after I died. You said, ‘meet me there.’”

I thought back. I had made that comment but had been too emotional at the time to think about the Methuselah Complex. I meant to meet me when I died, too, again too emotional to remember the Methuselah Complex at that moment.

“Oh, yeah,” I answered, but I was still confused as to how she ended up here, too. Did the Complex have the power to take more than one person? Did my comment, “Meet me there,” somehow allow the Complex to bring her too?

She drove us to a park where we talked for a while, catching up on what happened after her death and what she’d been doing here for four years. She arrived right after Bridget fell from a horse, injuring her head.

“Want to go somewhere and take me for a test drive?” she asked throatily. Oh, shit. Nervously I warned her about the three girls after explaining about the Methuselah Complex and not knowing that she would be brought back, too.

I felt the guilty knot in my gut release when she laughed. “I don’t know why, and it’s completely out of character for Melody, but I’m not the least bit jealous. Let’s go while your mom is still at work,” she purred suggestively.

The girls came running when they heard the front door close. When they saw Bridget plastered to my side the girls skidded to a stop, bumping into each other just like in the cartoons. Their looks were a combination of shock and disappointment. They all evidently knew each other, and Bridget greeted each of them by name.

Somehow, she managed to get all of us into a nervous group hug. “I’m going to have Jim take me to his room and fuck me senseless. I have no intention of stopping your fun together as long as each of you accepts that I am his official girlfriend, and I get first shot at him when I’m here. Beyond that you are all free to continue using him as your personal sex toy,” she told the stunned girls. After kissing each of them, she dragged me to my bedroom where we got reacquainted again. This time, though, I was her first.

Afterwards we talked more. She had told her parents not long after the accident and her arrival that she had a vision of sorts of the man she would marry. She couldn’t remember what he looked like but knew he would be incredibly mature for his age and would be playing football. We went out and joined the girls by the pool where she reiterated her offer to share me. By the time Mom got home, the four girls were thick as thieves. Of course, the fact that Bridget insisted I take each of the girls into my bedroom after she was done with me helped them believe her. She also got me ready each time for the next girl when she sucked my cock right in front of them, whispering teasingly to me that she now knew what each of them tasted like.

When Mom got home, she was a bit concerned about me dating someone two years older than me. When Amy whispered to Mom about Bridget’s reputation at school she calmed down. Then Bridget almost ruined it by telling Mom about the vision of her future husband she had told her parents about. She did promise that she did not intend to marry anyone before both of us finished high school and that she would insist that both of us finish college.

While Mom was recuperating from the shock, Bridget drove me back to school to get my bike. On the way, she showed me her house. I suggested that I come by after dinner to meet her parents. Her gentle squeeze of my cock told me she liked the idea. I also told her that I’d memorized lists of sports winners and stock winners and we’d have plenty of money. Obviously, she hadn’t memorized anything in preparation, as she didn’t know about the complex. However, she had come to realize that she had complete recall of everything she had learned in her previous life.

I got the third degree when I got home; Dad was home by then. Fortunately, all three girls had nothing but good things to say about Bridget, including the fact that she was one of the top students at school. I promised that, even knowing how distracting a girlfriend could be, that I would maintain my grades or they were free to put an end to me dating anyone until I got them back up to a 3.0 again. Dad asked how I felt about Bridget’s vision.

“I could do worse, but I don’t think I could do much better,” I admitted. Dad chuckled.

It had been several decades since I felt the trepidation I did as I approached Bridget’s front door after the bike ride to her house. “Jim!” she squealed excitedly when she opened the door, hugging me and shoving her tongue half-way down my throat.

“Do you greet all guys like that or just Bridget’s boyfriends?” I asked when she finally let me catch my breath.

“How did you know?” Caitlin asked incredulously as someone behind the door chuckled. Bridget and her mother, a woman who looked more like an older sister than like their mother, stepped out from behind the door, still laughing at Caitlin.

“First, I can see a difference in your eyes ... which are beautiful, just like your mother’s,” I complimented. Both ladies blushed slightly.

“Second, if I’d kissed Bridget like that earlier today, I don’t think I’d have the courage to come here and meet your parents.” Caitlin’s eyebrows arched. I could tell she didn’t believe me, but their mother smiled at my answer.

“Mrs. Taylor,” I started as I took her hand and pressed the back of it to my lips, “I was wondering if I might talk privately with you and Mr. Taylor?” It was her turn to be surprised but she shooed the girls off and directed me into the living room. Mr. Taylor stood and greeted me. He shook my hand and motioned me to one of the chairs. Mrs. Taylor took another chair.

“Mr. Taylor, I’ll get right to the point. I’ve come to ask your permission to court Bridget,” I said. His jaw dropped and Mrs. Taylor almost fell out of the chair into which she was starting to sit.

“You mean you want to date her?” he clarified.

“No, sir, I wish to court her,” I replied.

“Do you know the difference?” he asked gruffly.

“Yes, sir, dating is an ambiguous term that could mean anything from a slightly more than casual friendship to a much more serious one. Courting signifies intent to get to know each other with the intention of marrying,” I answered.

“And you think you’re ready for marriage?” he asked tersely.

“Not even close. I’m just starting high school and have no intention of marrying until I at least graduate. I do, however, want my intentions known up front,” I explained.

“She did say he would be incredibly mature for his age,” Mrs. Taylor interjected.

He harrumphed. “I understand you play football,” he commented brusquely.