With the start of high school football this week I thought it might be a good idea to take in a game ourselves. We'll get to see Paul Miller in action ... as quarterback, I mean. But I should warn you: Football sometimes has its violent moments, and this game will be no exception. What happens to some of our friends will have a profound impact on everyone, as we shall see in the chapters ahead.
This story deals with adult themes, primarily same-gender sexual relations. Such relations have their basis in love and commitment, rather than sex for the sake of sex alone. In some cases they will use protection; at other times they will not. You and I should always use protection because we do not live in the world of fiction.
If you are offended the idea of homosexuality or if you are under the age of consent or if you reside in an area where such things are considered illegal or immoral, then you should seek entertainment elsewhere.
Comments may be directed to the author at thornado5@netscape.net
This story is copyright 2004 by Mike Williams. All rights reserved. Thou shalt not steal.
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A Thousand Rainbows by Mike Williams
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Saturday dawned clear with just a hint of autumn crispness in the air, promising a perfect day for football. It was the day of the first playoff game, which would pit the Bridgewater Mustangs against their arch-rivals, the Franklin Panthers. Or, as many Bridgewater supporters called them, the Franklin Pathetics. Bridgewater was awarded home-field advantage, the result of a lucky coin toss.
Mustang Field was filled to capacity as the members of both teams ran onto the field. First to be introduced were the visiting Franklin Panthers. One by one they made their entrance to the enthusiastic cheers of a contingent from nearby Franklin High School and polite applause from the Bridgewater supporters. Last to be introduced was Randy Carter, a fullback with a very unsportsmanlike reputation and a bad attitude. An unreformed bully, he was known for his dirty tricks both on and off the gridiron. The applause from the Bridgewater side of the field was more subdued than for the other Franklin players.
Before the introduction of the Bridgewater team the school's mascots, two black stallions named Monarch and Wildfire, galloped onto the field, ridden by Jack Miller, Paul Miller's older brother, and his girlfriend Jennifer Winslow, the co-captains of the school's rodeo team. They easily guided their steeds to the center of the field and turned to face the crowd. No strangers to this spectacle, the horses whinnied and reared up, pawing the air. The crowd of Bridgewater supporters responded in kind with the school's power salute.
With the introduction of each Bridgewater player the applause and cheering became louder and more enthusiastic. Brian, Bjorn and the boys cheered from their seats high in the grandstands. Everyone was on their feet and remained standing as the national anthem was sung a capella by a quartet of Bridgewater Academy seniors, known as "the Mustang Gang". As the last notes of the anthem sounded, the applause rose like thunder and continued as the Bridgewater pep band broke into the school's fight song.
The seats at the top of the grandstand offered an excellent view of the game. Brian, Bjorn, Jason and Josh had brought binoculars to bring the action even closer. There was a lot of back-and-forth strategy on the field, and each team had scored only a field goal by the end of the first quarter. The Franklin Panthers broke the game open in the second quarter, scoring two touchdowns and converting both point-after attempts. At halftime the Mustangs trailed 17-3.
But the Bridgewater fans were not disheartened, even as the clouds rolled in, blocking out the sun. When the second half got underway, the cheers for their team were even louder and more enthusiastic than when the game had started. By the end of the third quarter each team had scored another touchdown and a successful point-after, bring the score to 24-10. For all his reputation Randy Carter was behaving like a perfect gentleman. But Paul Miller and rest of the Mustangs were not about to let their guard down and believe that the notorious Panther fullback had changed his ways.
The Mustangs scored another touchdown midway through the fourth quarter, bringing the score to 24-17. With Franklin in possession of the football and only five minutes remaining, it would be easy for the Panthers to control the game and eliminate the Mustangs from the playoffs. It was time for the Bridgewater defense to show their best.
As the seconds ticked away, the Franklin Panthers kept their game on the ground and made a few small gains, just enough to keep control of the ball. Then, with less than a minute on the clock and tasting victory, the Franklin quarterback got sloppy.
What should have been a short pass deep in Bridgewater territory was intercepted by a Mustang defender, who ran seventy yards before being tackled at the Franklin 15-yard line. The face of the Panther head coach turned bright red with anger as his offensive unit left the field. He slammed his clipboard to the ground, scattering his papers and game notes. He stormed over to his quarterback, screaming and shaking his fist in the boy's face, now free of its helmet. Even from their vantage point high in the grandstands, Brian and Bjorn could see the boy's head down, almost see the tears falling from his face as the coach continued his tirade.
As the Bridgewater offensive unit returned to the field, so did the attention of most of the spectators, except for Bjorn, who ... never without a camera ... was about to capture one of the game's most horrifying moments. The Franklin coach, still raging over the interception, let loose a series of punches on his quarterback's face. Bjorn was grateful for a tele-photo lens and a motor-drive on his camera as he recorded pictures of the assault and the boy falling helplessly to the ground. Before any of the Franklin coaching staff or football players could react, the coach continued his attack, landing kicks to the boy's midsection.
Bjorn was not the only one to have witnessed the horror. The assault would have continued, but for the sound of whistles from the field. The referees and line judges quickly surrounded the coach, pulling him off the prone quarterback. Once again the crowd's attention was diverted from the playing field to the Franklin bench to see the Panther coach glaring at his quarterback, who lay almost lifeless on the ground. Both the Bridgewater and Franklin team doctors were by the quarterback in an instant, tending to his wounds and motioning for the ambulance crew to bring a stretcher with all due haste.
As the medics prepared the boy for transport to the hospital, the coach continued to fume, shouting at the officials, his team and his coaching staff. The senior referee heard all he needed to hear and ejected the coach from the game. The coach, speechless for the first time, began his long walk alone toward the gym. But, before he exited the field, he grabbed the discarded helmet of his injured quarterback and threw it against a concrete wall with such force that it shattered.
Through all of this, Panther fullback Randy Carter was feeding on his coach's anger, psyching himself up to help maintain his team's lead and their apparent victory.
This was the time for Paul Miller and the Mustang offense to go to work. The opposing coach's outburst gave the Bridgewater Mustangs a little extra time to prepare their strategy.
The Panther defensive unit, now under the watchful eyes of an assistant coach, took to the field, forming a quick huddle at their own goal line. In the Mustang huddle Paul quickly gave his team their orders and a word of encouragement. The teams broke their huddles and took their positions at the line of scrimmage. Paul glanced quickly at the clock, which showed only 30 seconds.
As the ball was snapped, the clock resumed its march to the final whistle. The Panther defense rushed through the Mustang offensive line. Paul saw the rush coming and quickly handed the ball to one of his running backs, who made some forward progress, but not enough for a first down, and seven yards short of a touchdown.
Still, the seconds ticked away. With no time for a huddle Paul assembled his team at the line of scrimmage and barked out the signals.
10 seconds
The ball was snapped into Paul's waiting hands. He spun, faked a hand-off to one of his running backs ...
7 seconds
... faked a pass to near side of the field ...
5 seconds
... pumped and turned again ...
3 seconds
... and let loose a pass to the far side of the end zone, into the waiting arms of a Mustang receiver. Touchdown with one second left on the clock. But that made the score 24-23; the Bridgewater Mustangs were still two points from a victory. The crowd was wild with excitement.
The Mustang kicking team arrived on the field, eager to make the point-after that would send the game into overtime. Again the two teams lined up on opposite sides of the ball.
The field became silent, the spectators holding their breath with anticipation.
For the last time in the game the ball was snapped into Paul's hands. He appeared to place the ball into position for the kicker. But at the last possible instant he rose and dashed for the goal, only to be greeted by Randy Carter. A quick dodge was enough to throw the fullback off, but only for a moment. Just inches away from the goal and Carter was on Paul, tackling him. Paul held the football with all of his strength; his forward motion was just enough to carry him across the goal for a two-point conversion ... and a win for the Bridgewater Mustangs, 25-24, as the clock ran out and the final whistle blew.
As the sun broke through the clouds, the Mustang fans erupted into cheers. Paul rose from the grass and removed his helmet, holding it aloft with one hand and the game-winning football in the other, dancing with his teammates in the end-zone. After a moment's celebration Paul approached his Panther adversary, still lying on the ground, not believing that his team had suffered such a last-minute defeat. Carter rolled over onto his back. Paul offered his hand, both to help the opposing fullback to his feet and to congratulate him for having fought a good game.
Carter accepted the hand, but only until he was on his feet. After a quick glance at the scoreboard and hearing the cheers from the Bridgewater side of the field, he lashed out with a left hook to Paul's jaw.
Paul, still holding his helmet and the football, was caught off-guard, unable to defend himself. All the rage that Randy Carter had absorbed from his coach's outburst came pouring out through his fists.
It took a half-dozen Mustangs and several Panthers to pull Carter away, but not before he landed several more blows to Paul's face and stomach. Paul crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
In the grandstands the celebration of a Mustang victory quickly turned to shock and horror again as the spectators witnessed Carter's assault on the winning quarterback. This time it was Brian who captured the attack on film, along with many others in the stands who had trained their camcorders on the scene, eager to capture the joy of the win, not expecting such a picture of violence.
The joy which Jason and Josh had felt quickly turned to horror and sadness as they watched their football hero being carried off the field toward a waiting ambulance.
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to be continued in Chapter 9