Chasing the Dream (pt 4)

“I thought you guys were coming early,” Coach Ferneyough yelled from his office, situated in a tiny space between the boy’s locker room and the band room. “What are you doing here Jerry?” he said when he saw Jerry following the two seniors.

“Sir, I needed a ride. My trucks broke down again,” Jerry replied. He stood in front of coach’s door with an arm load of gear.

“Okay make yourself useful; get the game board cleaned off and fill the water jugs.”

“Yes, coach.” Jerry hurried off to carry out the tasks.

Derek dropped the equipment next to his locker and pushed Brandon toward the coach’s office. Derek knocked one time on the door frame.

“Enter,” Coach directed. He retired from the Marine’s five years ago and returned to his hometown and his favorite thing in the world—football. After twenty of years in the Marine Corp, he led his team with discipline and efficiency. All his hard work had taken the team from a one and nine losing season to a perfect record in the short time he had been at the helm. At first the boys had hated his strict discipline and intense training program, but after he kicked two seniors off the team during his first year when they refused to do the full workout, all the boys got right in line. He demonstrated that hard work resulted in success when they started winning game after game, and he had no more trouble from the team. He was a hard ass; he even called himself that, but he was the same hard ass to every kid. They knew he had their backs. He had picked up kids after they had been drinking, bring them home safely. He went to the player’s other activities to show his support, and most nights after practice he held tutoring sessions for the boys who struggled with grades.

“Why are you late?”

“Sir, do you really want to know?” Derek said bravely.

“No, get suited up. They’ll be here in about fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, coach,” both boys responded in unison. They ran out of his office and into the locker room and started unloading bags.

Dereck pulled out three sandwiches from the plastic bag he had packed earlier. “Dudes.” Brandon and Jerry looked over at him and he tossed a mostly smashed white-bread sandwich at each of them. They grunted in thanks and went back to what they were doing.

“Gentlemen, these are the young men I was telling you about,” Coach announced to the three college recruiters as he entered the locker room where Brandon and Derek were lacing up their cleats. Both boys jumped to their feet knowing that was exactly what the coach expected. Coach Ferneyough’s policy was well known; if he was standing then the boys were standing, but if a visitor was in the locker room, those standards were to be exceeded.

Brandon stuck out his hand first. “I’m Brandon Jefferson.”

Derek quickly followed suit. “I’m Derek Moore.”

Coach took over and introduced Tom Michaels, from the University of Illinois, Jim Holmes, from Northern Illinois University and Don Howard, from Western Illinois University. “Thank you gentlemen for coming to see us play tonight. I asked you here a little early to watch these two great athletes run some drills. Brandon is our starting quarterback and Derek is a wide receiver. These men have been playing football together since they were old enough to hold the ball. I believe you’ll enjoy watching them.” He turned his attention back to the boys, “Take Jerry and a bag of balls out to the practice field and stretch out. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“How do you think that went?” Derek asked Brandon as they sat on the metal benches next to their lockers. The room was filling up with the rest of the team, most of them half-dressed and horsing around with nervous energy.

“I don’t know dude. I was beginning to wonder if those men could even talk.” Brandon guzzled Gatorade.

“Yeah, that was a hell’ova workout coach put us through just before a game.” Derek wiped sweat from his face and neck. “Give up the Gatorade, dude.”

Brandon handed over the bottle. “I know, right? And it’s senior night too. I sure hope it was worth it. Got any more of those nasty sandwiches?”

Derek threw the bag at his friend. Three sandwiches fell on the floor as it hit him in the face. “Shit, I almost forgot senior night again. Has the band gone on the field yet?”

“I want one.” They heard Jerry yell from the other side of the wall of lockers.

Brandon threw a sandwich over the lockers. “No, Mindy is still getting her band uniform on. She’ll let me know when they go out.” Mindy was the drum major, and she and Brandon had been dating since the beginning of the school year.

“Cool, I’m going to the study hall room for a minute. Will you let me know when they go out?”

“Yeah sure. Why do you want to know?” Brandon asked.

“I have to meet my mom. She had to pick up a flower for me to give to her. I’m such a lame ass; I forgot to get a flower. You got one right?”

“Yeah, you can have it though.” Brandon tucked his head slightly, but then quickly regained his composure. “My mom’s drunk already tonight.”  He looked away and started for his locker.

“Sorry, man.” Derek knew not to make too much of it. Brandon was clearly disappointed, but only his friend would know it. It wasn’t anything new. Both Brandon’s parents had struggled with alcohol his whole life. He had spent many nights at Derek’s house when he was too small to stay alone and his parents failed to return home from the bar before dark.

“Whatever, here’s the flower.” Brandon reached in his locker and pulled out a brilliant red rose bud wrapped in white tissue paper with a small red bow tied neatly at the top. Brandon had obviously given this a lot of thought and care. Derek was even more embarrassed now. His mom was always there for him, and he forgot. Brandon didn’t care that his mom wasn’t there most of the time; he just wanted her here tonight so he wouldn’t have to be embarrassed.

“Maybe she’ll show up.”

Brandon shrugged and Derek turned away. He could tell they were done with this conversation. He reached in his locker and pulled out his school notepad and walked out.

“Derek, the band just went on the field. What you doing in here?” Brandon walked into the study hall room across from the band room. Coach let the team use this room for study hall on their off periods, so he could help the kids who were struggling, and he could go over plays with those who weren’t. Derek sat in one of the tiny desks dwarfed by his size which was exaggerated by all his football gear. He faced the row of windows using the natural light from the sun still hanging low in the sky.  

“Thanks dude,” Derek nodded. He got up tearing out the page he had been writing on and ran out to the old bleachers. While he waited for his mom he reread the page and folded it neatly into a small triangle.

“How’d the meeting with the recruiters go?” Suzanne asked as she walked toward the fence her son was leaning against.

“Hey mom, I dunno. It was weird. They didn’t talk at all.”

Suzanne handed him the white carnation. “It was all they had left.” She smiled, a little embarrassed for him.

“Serves me right for forgetting. Thanks mom. I’ll see you in the stands in a few minutes.”

“I’m sure you did fine with the recruiters. They’re supposed to look intimidating—I think.” She shrugged.

Derek nodded and walked away gently holding the flower. He turned back, “Oh hey, did Mrs. Jefferson come?”

“I don’t think so. I left her a voicemail and told her she could ride with me, but I didn’t hear back.” Suzanne frowned.

The band finished up and marched to the corner of the field. It was the last regular season game and the last home game. The stands for the home-team side were filled; some of the local fans had even set up lawn chairs while many just stood around the side of the stadium. There were plenty of seats on the visitor’s side, but no Wildcat’s fan would sit on that side. The bright field lights lit up the field like the noon day sun. They could probably be seen from the next town over. The players stood in the doorway of the locker room waiting for the announcer to call them out. Coach stood next to Brandon and Derek, the team captains, in front of the rest of the team. Everyone but coach jumped around in their spot trying to calm their nerves. They all felt it every time, no matter how many games they played.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the Wildcat stadium tonight the Pittsfield Saukee’s.” Even though the announcer said it with enthusiasm in a high pitched voice the few fans that followed the Saukee’s to the game could barely be heard as their team ran out on the field. They did the best they could to energize each other, but the last of the team slowly jogged out on the field with little excitement.

“Now for the home…” The cheering and yelling started before Bob Stewart, the announcer for the home games for twenty –two years, could even finish, and he was drowned out completely.

Derek and Brandon just watched Coach. He had an instinct and knew when to start the team running. They rushed out behind him fighting their own excitement to hold his pace. As soon as the entire team was on the field, they lined up in front of the flag pole, and the band kicked off the Star Spangled Banner. They all removed their helmets and stood completely still until the music stopped.

“Ladies and gentlemen tonight is a special night for our four senior athletes. This is their last home game, and we would like to celebrate their success. When I call your names would you please give your mother’s the thanks they deserve.” The crowd irrupted right on queue, and the band played the first few bars of the fight song.

Bob called Michael Brown first, and he ran up the stadium stairs and handed his mother a rose and give her a bit hug. He shook his dad’s hand and ran back down and joined his teammates.

“I told Coach your mom wasn’t coming.” Derek looked over at Brandon who was nearly paralyzed with fear.

Bob Stewart continued, “Unfortunately Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson were unable to attend tonight. Brandon Jefferson, our starring quarterback would you please step forward.” A big cheer went up from the crowd. Brandon stepped up humbly and waved.

“Thanks man,” Brandon said when he back up next to his friend.

Robert Lockie, the team’s kicker, was next, and he too ran into the stadium and repeated the act of hugging mom and shacking dad’s hand.

“Derek Moore, wide receiver.” Again fans cheered loudly, and Derek ran up the stairs with his pathetic little carnation and grabbed his mom in a big hug. He backed up and pulled a small folded piece of paper out of his helmet and handed it to his mom.

“I love you, mom.” He ran back to the team before she could speak.

Suzanne Moore slowly unfolded the paper. In her son’s neat little printed handwriting, she read, Mom, I know it’s never been easy to raise me alone. I’ve tried to be good and always do what you ask, but I know I failed sometimes. Forgive me for all the times I’m not a good son, but know that because of you I’ve always tried to do my best. I will continue to work hard to make you proud. Just you and me mom–I wouldn’t want it any other way. Your loving son, Derek Alan Moore. A silent tear ran down her cheek.