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Email feedback can be sent to trager2275@gmail.com. © 2015 by Eric Trager.
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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The noise was Andy having fainted and fallen into the ball basket, scattering footballs to and fro. Sean rushed to his side, patting his face, shouting, "And! Wake up! And! Shit..." And noting that Andy appeared quite pale.
Coach retrieved his first-aid kit from the bench, opened the smelling salts and waved them under Andy's nose. Groggily, Andy responded, coming to and asking, "Wha? Sean-o, what happened..."
"You fainted. Are you OK?"
"Yeah. I just feel a little light-headed, I guess..."
"OK, well, I'll help you sit up and you see how your balance feels." Sean then put his arm around Andy's shoulders moving him into a sitting position. "Is that OK?"
"Yeah, I guess so... Lemme be for a couple minutes and I'll stand up..."
Once up, Andy seemed to be alright although Sean noted his coloring was still a bit on the pale side, but he supposed that is how one looks after one faints. Andy seemed to be walking normally, and even joked that he only fainted because it was time for practice to come to an end.
Sean wasn't so sure, but took it in stride even making sure that he drove Andy's Cruze home, making a pit stop at the Stop-N-Go store getting Andy a King Size Snickers bar to eat thinking probably his blood sugar might be a little low as Andy hadn't eaten much for lunch that day. Sean kept his eye on Andy over dinner noting that his appetite seemed good, and that some color had returned to his cheeks. After dinner, Andy concentrated well on his homework, bantered with Sean as he normally did and even helped John with his work as well. When it was time for bed, Andy was tired, though, snuggling back against Sean's larger body, taking Sean's hand in his and falling asleep as his head hit the pillow.
For his part, Andy had indeed been feeling tired lately, but otherwise well. Just growing pains as he'd had a little bit of a late growth spurt hitting 5'11 ½". In any event, this close to the end of the season Andy wasn't going to make a stink about it, figuring that he'd just mention it to the Doc when he went in for his follow-up leg appointment. He didn't feel as if it was anything, but at the same time he didn't want to saddle Sean with one more burden beyond what he already bore. Not with the team seemingly headed for the Division-I playoffs in the next couple of weeks.
That night at dinner, Joe told the boys he had some news for them.
"Guys, I heard back on the Scotch. It's been appraised, and the appraisal run by two other guys one from Chicago and the other from Milwaukee. They emailed their opinion to me this afternoon. The Scotch is valued in the range of $1,500 to $1,750 per bottle. So, let's just say it's $1,600 a bottle. We have approximately 1,600 bottles at the warehouse, so that would make the total value to be something like two-and-a-half million dollars. I've had it insured for the appraised value, and it wasn't cheap, about ten grand a year. The only place I could find that would insure something like that is Lloyd's of London."
"Well, what are we gonna do with it?" John asked.
"My advice is that we should sell it," Joe replied.
"How do you sell that kind of stuff?" Sean wanted to know.
"I'm not a hundred percent sure. I think what comes to mind first is to contact the distillery. They're still in business over in Scotland. Maybe they'd be interested in selling it and it can be drop-shipped from here. Maybe they'd wanna buy it all themselves. Maybe they'll tell me to go to hell. But, I think that's the first call we make, though..."
"Makes sense," Andy said.
"Yeah, except at that value we'd need to get with a packing-and-shipping company that knows what they're doing and find out what the cost is because the Buyer has to pay for that," Sean added.
"You sure you're not a Jew, Sean-o?" Andy teased.
"Who knows?" Sean replied. "But I just don't wanna get a few orders and then find out we didn't do things right and end up with broken glass that we'd hafta eat the cost on."
"That's correct, son," Joe said. "I'll put out a feeler to the distillery tomorrow. I just thought you guys wanna know, though. At the end of the day, the profit will be added to what you guys already have. I will take care of investing it for you. I'd thought about just having it in all cash and putting the cash in your deposit boxes, but I don't think long-run that's a good strategy as the money won't grow that way."
"I agree, dad, but let's keep it in some fairly liquid stuff that can be moved around if it needs to be." Sean added.
"That was my plan..."
The next week-and-a half went by without untoward events. The team was in their last practice before the Madison West game. The game plan was laid, and the team firing on all cylinders. Coach Slater, as always at the end of a practice right in front of a game called the team to huddle.
"Gentlemen, I don't know what to say. Tomorrow is the Big Eight Conference Championship game. I wish I could spend the time to talk to each one of you individually before the game, but I can't. I've said it so many times, and I'm sorry, but I have to say it again: you are head and shoulders the finest team I've ever coached. Every Coach dreams of a moment like this. All season long we've done nothing but chase perfection. Well, it's up to you tomorrow night to grab perfection, gentlemen. I'm too old. I can't do it for you. My job was to make your talent into a winning team. I've done my job. I can do no more. It's up to you. Tomorrow night we go up against a team that is physically bigger than we are. A team that is also undefeated. And a team that is also excellent. But, we have advantages as well. We're faster than they are. We are more technically proficient than they are, and in my estimation, we are more excellent than they are. It all comes down to this. I know I'm not supposed to do this, gentlemen, but I don't give a shit. I'm gonna do it anyway... Please kneel down for a prayer. You don't have to pray, but don't bow your heads. Look up so you can see the face of God while we ask his blessing in what we are about to do."
Coach waited a few seconds and then began, "Almighty God, we humbly ask your blessing in our efforts this year. We ask your blessing in our game tomorrow night, and that this team comes through the game safe, uninjured and victorious. Amen." Coach Slater then rose. "Thank you for indulging me, gentlemen. I love you all. You are dismissed."
The next evening at old Monterey Stadium as the Cougars took the field for their practice drills they were shocked at what they saw. Unbeknownst to them, arrangements had been made halfway through the season for this game. Temporary bleachers had been erected at both ends of the home bleachers and in both end zones, increasing the home seating capacity from 5,000 to 16,000. The stands were full, and as far as the eye could extended a roiling sea of Royal Blue and White. No provision had been made for extra seating on the guest side of the field, and the Madison West crowd could not have been any more than about 1,500 or 2,000. The Craig marching band, color guard and JROTC drill corps stood at the ready.
The field clock signaled the end of warm-up practice. Onto the field marched the band, color guard and drill corps. It was obvious they had something special in store for the evening as well. The band and color guard had the entire home crowd engaged in the Cougar Fight Song to a point of volume that the crowd's thunder boomed across the Rock River, the echo ricocheting back off the old GM plant. The band major strutted proudly while impossibly large banners unfurled and swirled across the field with the drill corps standing center field, flawlessly executing a portion of the U.S. Marine Corps silent drill.
"LAAAAAAAAAAAADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" the game announcer boomed. "Welcome to the final game of the regular season! Give yourselves a hand – we have a record tonight! We have a standing room only home crowd tonight of 16,134 tickets sold. OK, and now the moment we've all been waiting for! Tonight we are proud to host the Madison West Regents for a game that will determine the Big Eight Championship! Introducing the Regents, at..."
The crowd was fairly silent as Madison West was introduced. That changed suddenly as one-by-one the Cougars took the field. Tim and Sean decided they'd be introduced and take the field together. They wanted the crowd in as high a state as they could get them.
"And finally, ladies and gentlemen, starting at Quarterback for the Cougars, 6'2" and 185lbs, Senior Tim Dickson. Calling the plays tonight will be backup Quarterback Sean Wyman!"
Again, the cannonade of the crowd reflected in deafening echo back across the river. The fireworks barge fired off a blue-and-white show worthy of a Fourth of July grand finale, and the game was underway. The Cougars won the toss, but elected to defer. As expected, the size of the West offensive linemen gave Craig fits in the first series of downs. West employed a conventional running attack which netted them on average five yards a carry. Coach Slater was not displeased with that so early in the game. He figured it could have been worse. His men did not appear nervous, nor did they appear as if they were being fooled by any of West's offensive plays.
Nevertheless, West with their sheer size effectively moved the ball down the field. A crucial play came at the Cougar 20-yard line with West facing a third down and four yards to go. They had not run one passing play so far, but this time lined up unmistakably in pass formation, their Quarterback in the shotgun with only one blocking Back, four Receivers and a Tight End. That still left five men on the line which would make a defensive blitz on the Quarterback challenging. Coach Slater signaled man coverage and the Middle Linebacker to blitz.
At the snap, the West Quarterback faded back to pass. The West Receivers proved to be as good as any the Cougar Defense had faced. The line of scrimmage was a blur, with no Cougar Lineman able to penetrate, but putting so many receivers out left fewer men on the line and the Craig Middle Linebacker eventually got through. The West Quarterback was now being harassed and had not yet located an open Receiver. With no option left, he threw the ball away bringing up fourth down, and no reasonable option for West but to send in their Place Kicker to attempt a 39-yard field goal. While a chip-shot for a professional Kicker, 39 yards was a bit long for a High School team, and as the field faced North-South, there was a bit of a cross-breeze that night.
Both teams lined up, the ball was snapped, and the field goal was good. It only just barely went through the uprights, but that's all it had to do. Again, Coach Slater was not displeased and at least at this point knew the limit of the opposing Kicker. The score stood Madison West 3, Janesville Craig 0.
On the kickoff, the Cougar run back enabled respectable field position at their own 32-yard line. The Offense and their star Quarterback took the field. For the first play, Sean thought he'd keep West honest. He called the Power Sweep, and while smaller than the West Defensive line, when at the snap the entire Craig Offensive line shifted in unison it sufficiently confused the West Defense who were less quick to net a seven-yard gain. Sean was happy with this as in the first play the Cougars managed to send a message. They knew West recognized their vaunted passing attack, but they made a statement that they could just as easily run the ball at will.
Knowing that West favored zone coverage while on defense, Sean on second-and-three called a play designed to send out the maximum number of Receivers allowing Tim to hit one of them at the point they changed zones. The play would depend on the Craig offensive line being able to provide at least three seconds of protection for Tim. For this play, Tim would line up under center giving the impression that it was a running play. The play worked. The superior quickness of the Craig line meant that Tim got the time he needed to roll out and find a man open. The result of the play was a seventeen-yard gain and a first down.
Marching down the field, the Cougars used their superior quickness, ability to run a no-huddle offense, and their full playbook. On the final play of the drive, which was a third-and-goal-to-go from the West one-yard line they employed a play they had not yet run all season. For this play, Sean entered the game and lined up at Quarterback. To the confusion of the West Defense, Tim remained on the field lining up as a blocking back. Three Receivers and a Tight End were on the line of scrimmage. Sean hard counted the snap and to his surprise drew the West Defense into a neutral zone infraction moving the ball half the distance to the goal line making it third down and about a foot. Once, again, no-huddling, Craig was right back at the line of scrimmage. Barely even giving the West Defense time to set, Sean began the count.
He took the snap, faded back to pass drawing the West Linebackers to attempt a blitz and at the last second pitched the ball to Tim. The West Defensive backfield occupied, still thinking this was a pass play, and the West Defensive line and Linebackers drawn in created a hole in the line for Tim who merely ran straight across the goal line for a touchdown and the score after the extra point now standing Janesville Craig 7, Madison West 3. The GM factory whistle sounded a long blast.
The game then settled into a defensive slug-fest. Neither team could decisively get the better of the other before halftime, and at mid-game the score still stood at 7-3. In the locker room, Coach Slater went around to his starting players asking them for one, or two sentences on how they thought the game was going and if there were any changes they thought were needed before the second half started. Tim was the only one to offer a suggestion.
"Coach, I've got one."
"Go ahead, Mr. Dickson."
"We get the ball to start the half. Let's put Wymo in instead of me. They've already taken my reading and I'm the guy they'll be expecting. If they have to get used to basically a new Quarterback it might just confuse them, especially since Wymo's a leftie."
"Yes. I see what you're saying. What say you, Mr. Wyman?"
"Let's give it a shot, Coach. I'm ready. And guys, we're ahead. Not by enough, but we're ahead. We got two quarters of football left to go. This is what we've all worked for. I believe in you, guys. Let's do it."
Tim's suggestion proved sagacious as Sean managed to catch the West Defense off guard enough of the time. The Cougars, in workmanlike fashion, moved the ball down the field, managing to chew six minutes off the game clock and scoring another touchdown making the score 14-3.
West came back scoring a touchdown of their own, but abandoning their passing game. Not having the ability to run a no-huddle offense and the stinginess of the Craig Defense meant that their touchdown came at the expense of using up a lot of the game clock. So much so, that by the time their touchdown was scored the game was in the fourth quarter.
Coach Slater put Tim back in at Quarterback letting him know that the best thing to do would be to take the ball down the field as quickly as possible both tiring out the West Defense and using the clock to their advantage given that even if West scored on their next possession it wouldn't be enough and at that point the Cougars with any luck could run out the clock when they got the ball back. But, he also let Tim know that this strategy depended on scoring a touchdown on this possession. Sean was advised that he had the green light to call any play in the arsenal as he saw fit and to use any player.
In an awesome demonstration of everything they'd practiced all year long, and all the advice, coaching and talent they had, Tim did exactly as Coach Slater hoped. In a possession where the Cougars were only in a second down situation three times and never in a third down situation, the ball was hurled down the field, and a Craig touchdown scored. The score was Janesville Craig 21, Madison West 10 with seven minutes left to go in the game. Coach Slater reminded his team that for an opponent like West, seven minutes was more than enough time for them to win the game, or at least throw it into overtime. "Make them work for every inch, gentlemen!" was Coach's final admonishment to his Defense.
And make them work for every inch is exactly what the Cougar Defense did. On the few plays where West attempted to pass, the passes were either wide of the mark, or batted down. They were sentenced to use their running attack. They managed to score a touchdown, which Coach Slater was not alarmed at for in doing so they had done exactly as was hoped, expending precious game time. When Coach Slater's team got the ball back after the kickoff and with the score 21-17 there remained but 1:57 on the game clock. All the Cougars had to do was run 37 seconds off the clock in plays, and then take two knees until time ran out.
For the final play of the game, Coach sent both of his Quarterbacks in with Tim under center and Sean in the offensive backfield. The time ticked away, finally running out, and the hometown crowd at the venerable stadium were in paroxysms of glory as a deafening thunder of fireworks shot from the barge in the river combined with the blast of the GM factory siren.
The team could hardly believe it. By the score of 21-17 they had hung on. They had won their Conference. Madly jumping, fist-bumping, reveling in the sheer testosterone of late teenage male victory, they collected themselves, took out to the field and shook hands with their vanquished opponents. As a final salute to the crowd, the entire team together with their coaches and managers lined up center field facing the home stands and took a bow as the Big Eight Conference Football Champions. Tears filled most of their eyes, not least of which was Coach Slater who was seen wiping his eyes.
In the locker room, the mayhem continued until Coach Slater entered blowing his whistle. "Congratulations, gentlemen. You are the champions. You worked for it and you earned it. Be proud of yourselves because I'm damn proud of you. Damn proud. That is all I have for now. On Monday, we shall begin going over our playoff strategy. Have fun tonight."
Rather than busses, the Fire Department sent down four of their hook and ladder trucks to transport the team back to school. Entering the parking lot was a massive crowd overflowing onto the school lawn and into the practice fields north of the school. A stage in the middle of the parking lot beckoned, and Coach Slater took the stage. Someone handed him a bullhorn. Coach stared at the bullhorn for a few seconds, looked out over the crowd, then back at his team.
"Thank you, Janesville," Coach began. "We're delighted to bring home the Big Eight Championship this year, and we're doubly delighted to have done it here at home. As a crowd, you were our twelfth man on the field tonight, and that means so much. I'd like to invite the team up here right now, the whole team. And when they're all up here I want you to give them a huge round of applause. I've told these men all season long, and I'll tell you now the same thing: they are the finest team I've ever had the privilege to coach. Period. I mean that. For a guy like me, it's a once-in-a-career team. It would be for any coach. Please give them a hand, they earned it."
On the stage, Coach handed off the bullhorn to Tim who didn't want it, getting rid of it like a hot potato to Sean. Sean judged it unright that he address the crowd as he was only the backup Quarterback so he handed it off to Cunns. He knew Cunns with his innate swagger wouldn't have any issues addressing a crowd.
"Evening folks!" Cunns gamely chuckled into the microphone. "I guess the two Quarterbacks are a little shy tonight! Well, don't let that bother ya. They gave me the mic because I'm ten times as annoying as they are! Anyway, this is your night folks. We brought home a trophy that next week will be presented to our school and that's how it should be. Now, it's on to State and we're gonna need good luck and good wishes there, for sure. Please believe in us! Thanks again!"
The crowd roared their approval. The entire team waved, soaking up their newly-won glory but also knowing that with playoffs looming this was not the end. Not even close.
Later that evening, most of the team reveled in a huge party thrown at a large farm on the edge of town. The party was raucous with just about the entire upper class of the school there, or at least those that had access to vehicles which pretty much weeded out the Freshmen and half the Sophomores. There was a band, the party-goers happily paying the $5.00 cover charge. The boys strode in to universal accolades. Tim and Andy were exuberant, Brett smiling, John quietly observing and Sean, ever the showman, with his aw-shucks smile.
Making their way around the crowd, it looked like there were a fair number of people from out-of-town. Even a few of the Madison West players, perhaps those who might have relatives in Janesville, were seen at the party. Unlike their cross-town rivals at Madison LaFollette, the West payers were sportsmen, congratulating the Craig players on a game well-played and wishing them well in the playoffs. The West Quarterback, Kevin Masterson, and Sean had a particularly friendly conversation, noting that as both were Juniors they'd see each other for a rematch next year. Sean demurred, letting his opposite-number know that with graduations, the Cougar team that he would likely Captain in his Senior year most likely would be an order of magnitude less strong, letting Masterson know, "This is our one shot. This is it."
Andy who was in on the conversation as well excused himself to use one of the Port-A-Potties set up in back of the barn. "Be back in two shakes... Well, you know what I mean," Andy said as he squeezed Sean's shoulder. "Nice to meet you, Kevin!" Andy said as he sauntered off.
"Who's that guy?" Masterson asked.
"My boyfriend," Sean answered matter-of-factly.
"No kidding..."
"Nope."
"You the only gay guy on the team?"
"Nope. There's a few of us. I won't tell you who they are, though. I mean, you seem like a nice guy to me and everything, butcha gotta understand, it's not my place to give out information like that..."
"Oh, I know, and I wasn't askin' ya to. It's just that I'm gay, too and no one else on the team knows about it. I'm in the closet. And I don't have a boyfriend. My secret's safe with you? I mean, I know this is stupid, but I'm just kinda scared about it all..."
"Yup. Your secret's safe with me. I mean, who would I tell anyway? I don't know anyone who knows you... Tell ya what, if you can get away from home me and Andy will invite you down sometime, maybe for a weekend, or something. That is, if ya want..."
"That would be awesome! I have my own car and my mom and dad won't care as long as they know where I am. Wow! How about after the playoffs? That good?"
"I'd say so. There's a guy, or two I could maybe introduce you to as well if you think that would be good... I mean, I'm not trying to play matchmaker, or anything..."
"That would be fucking awesome! I mean, well, I um...I never had sex with a guy before. Or even a girl. Just my right hand," Kevin sheepishly laughed, extending his right arm with hand palm up. "I never had a boyfriend, either. I'd really like to, ya know...like maybe someday..."
"OK, well, then, just between us? What are you scared about, anyway?"
"Just between us..." Masterson nodded at Sean. "Well, see my family knows, and that's not it..."
"Your family knows? So, what is it, then?
"Well, it's just really weird. See, I was planning on coming out at school last year, but here's what happened. There were a couple of other guys, and they came out and everything..."
"OK, this is as clear as mud so far..."
"Just stay with me here... So, these guys come out but they decided they didn't wanna join all the gay clubs at school and shit. They're not even really clubs, anyway. They're just political crap and they just weren't into that. One of em was a Senior on the football team and the other guy was a basketball player. I mean, nobody on the teams cared, that's not it, but since they didn't play Little Mister Conformist with all the busybodies around school they were called all kinds of names, stupid shit like "self-loathing," "Neanderthal," and a shitload of other words that all those people throw around like they're all holier-than-thou, or something. They got treated like shit. Like every day. One chick would follow them around saying they weren't really gay and yelling Keep your hands off my uterus' at them.
"What?" Sean guffawed. "That's too funny, keep your hands off my uterus..."
"Yeah, she yelled it at them like she was a fucking PEZ dispenser, or something. It was annoying as fuck. I saw what happened, so sorry, but not sorry, I'm not goin' down that road. I mean, I got nuthin' against those people if they'd just shut the fuck up, but who needs that shit, ya know? I just stay in my own lane..."
"Wow! I mean, I thought Madison was supposed to be like this really Liberal town and all, you know..."
"That's the problem, it is, but there's no tolerance. A lot of people are like lemmings. Everyone's supposed to look different but everyone's supposed to think the same. Like a bunch of fuckin' robots. I mean, what kind of bullshit is that? If you don't conform to all their stuff they descend on you like the flying monkeys in The Wizard of Oz... I mean, ya know, I got football, I got a job, I like to ski in the Winter, I gotta get good grades so I can get into college so I like just don't have time to be bossed around by their crap. I mean, they get a hair across their asses and all you hear is I'm offended,' or you're in my space,' or `or you're not really gay,' or whatever the fuck the slogan of the day is... It's a fucking joke, and even the school is in on it. You can't say anything different than what the Teachers wanna hear or you get a worse grade than you should. Oh, and get this! They decided that the coffee we had in the cafeteria wasn't PC enough so instead of the usual stuff that was fifty cents a cup last year now it's a buck seventy-five and we get to look at some stupid-ass poster of some Mexican guy who's probably an actor picking coffee beans because it's like fair trade, or some shit. I mean, who has two bucks every morning for a cup of fucking cafeteria coffee? It's probably the same fucking shit as they had last year anyway! So, I decide to bring some from home in a Thermos one day and they tell me I can't do it and take it away from me like it's this huge deal and call my parents and stuff... I was like, really? A thermos of coffee? You guys have any of that shit goin' on at Craig?"
"Fuck no! I mean, I never heard of shit like that before. That's bizarre, man... So, what about your family?"
"They're cool. I mean, mom and dad were cool with it, and I have three younger brothers. They all thought it was funny, if ya can believe it."
"You got THREE brothers? That's awesome!"
"Yup. I'm the oldest, and then there's Konrad, Kenton and Kieran. We're all K's... Our middle names are all J's: John, Joseph, James and Jeffrey. And we're all two years apart: seventeen, fifteen, thirteen and eleven. They're great brothers..."
"Sweet! Look, I mean it, when the season's done you plan on coming down for a weekend. You can even be extra gay," Sean laughed. "You can be out about it, too, and you won't have any loony-tunes following you around. Like I said, I'll introduce you to some of the guys..."
"Awesome! I'll be at all the playoff games to cheer for you guys, too. I'm, um, I'm like glad we met tonight, Sean..." he said, blushing somewhat.
"Me, too. Like I said, you seem like a nice guy. Let's exchange contact info, OK?"
The boys exchanged their information, promising to stay in touch. Sean started out to find Andy as he was tired and wanted to get home. He set out for the Port-A-Potty area where Andy said he was going, rounded the corner of the barn and immediately began running.
Causing Sean to run was seeing Andy exit one of the Port-A-Potties, stumble and fall to the ground.
A small group of other party goers gathered around Andy, one of them making the remark that he must have had too much to drink. Sean didn't concern himself with other people's uninformed remarks. His concern was with his lover, and again he wondered about it. When he got up to Andy, he pulled him up in a sitting position, shook him lightly all the while repeating his name.
In a couple seconds, Andy opened his eyes. "Hey, sorry, Sean-o. Just lost my balance is all. I forgot ya gotta step down when ya come out of these things..."
"Well, fine. Hey, it's time to go anyway. Lemme help ya up and we'll go to the car... I'll text J.R. to meet us there. Gimme the keys, I'll drive."
"You sure?"
"Um, yeah... And, this is like the second time you've done this. I'm not sure this is normal. I want you to get checked out, OK?"
"I feel fine, Sean-o... I've kinda had enough of Doctors for a while if ya know what I mean."
"I get that, but one more appointment ain't gonna kill ya. If it's nothing, then fine, OK? Please?"
"Oh, alright... You suck, Blondie! You know I can't say `no' to you... I'll call Doc Shroeder on Monday if that'll get you off my ass..."
"When we get home, I'm gonna be on your ass... Well, in it anyway..."
"You better!"
Once at Andy's Cruze, John showed up with Kathleen.
"You coming over, Kath?" Sean asked.
"Nah, I better get home. It's late. Besides, I gotta keep Johnny on his toes, ya know?" She then leaned over and gave John a kiss on the cheek.
"Suitcher self, there, Kath! OK, home it is..."
"Gather round, gentlemen," Coach Slater announced at the beginning of Monday's practice. "I wanna start to talk a little about our playoff schedule here. You will be pleased to know that we are the Number One Seed and we have home field advantage. That means for the first series of games which is this week we have a bye. A bye is a huge deal, and I can't say enough about home field advantage, either. This is where our preparation and hard work all season long pays off. We will, of course, use that time constructively. The week after that we will be playing the winner of the Milwaukee Rufus King - Racine Horlick game, and if we win that game we play for the State Championship. I believe that given our skill set two weeks is adequate time to prepare for either one of those teams. Just so you know, the Number Two Seed this year is the Neenah Red Rockets. We will be watching their progress closely. Do not let up, gentlemen. We are on the wings of victory. We can't see those wings just yet, but we can hear them beating, and if we all do our duty that's where we'll be. That is all, gentlemen."
That night at dinner, Andy let everyone know he had an appointment with Doctor Schroeder on Wednesday. While not having said much, Joe was at least a tad bit concerned that Andy had had two fainting spells and while having shot up a little bit in height, seemed to maybe have lost a little weight. At the same time, though, his appetite was good and his grades if anything had improved a little bit since the last time they'd talked. As far as Joe knew, people generally fainted most likely from low blood sugar, or low blood pressure. He hadn't alerted Andy's mother because he had nothing really to tell her, and although Andy had called her several times since the move, Kathy only called back twice and hadn't visited. As old a friend as Kathy was, Joe was nevertheless somewhat appalled by that.
Wednesday morning Andy walked into his appointment at Mercy Hospital. Doctor Schroeder came out himself to greet Andy and bade him follow him back into an examination room. "Well, there, Andrew, what can I do for you today?"
"Sean made me come down. He said I had to come because I fainted twice in the last couple of weeks, or so..."
"OK, well, tell me what you felt like before you fainted."
"I dunno, I mean normal, I guess. It just happened..."
"Let's get your height and weight. Step on the scale over there."
"OK, we got 5'11 ½ and 146 pounds... You've grown an inch and a half, Andy, but I am a little concerned that your weight is down. You were close to 160 before, so I'd expect you at this point to be 165, or so. How's your eating?"
"I eat like normal, no complaints there..."
"Very well. I'm going to draw a blood sample and we'll do a quick check for blood sugar and iron. Stick your arm out." Doctor Schroeder drew some blood; told Andy he was going back to the lab and he would be back once he got the results.
Andy spent the next half hour thinking how much shit he was going to give Sean for making him waste this time. As he was contemplating, Doctor Schroeder returned.
"Andrew, here's what we have. Your blood sugar is normal; however, you are somewhat anemic. That means the iron level in your blood is lower than it should be. That can explain the fainting and the weight loss. What I'm going to do is give you an iron supplement injection today and a prescription for an oral supplement. OK, so that's the symptom, low iron. What concerns me is WHY you present as anemic. So, to satisfy me on that one, we're going to have you back here in two weeks to do this all over again and see what we have at that point."
"So, is there something wrong with me?"
"As far as I can tell, as you sit here today the answer would have to be no, Andy. What I mean is that there doesn't seem to be anything terribly out of whack, but you understand we need to follow up."
"Yeah... OK, Doc, hit me with the shot..."
"There ya go, Andy. Now here's the prescription and you can have it filled on your way out. Just tell `em you have to get back to school right away and it shouldn't take them too long..."
"OK, thanks Doc. I guess I'll see you in two weeks, then..."
"See ya then, Andy."
Walking to his car, Andy thought to himself, "Well, I'm glad that's over with...
At lunch Sean was interested to know how the Doctor's appointment went. "OK, I guess," Andy replied. "I mean, he said I was anemic, you know, my iron is low, so he gave me a shot and I picked up some iron pills. That's all he said, really..."
"That's all?"
"Yeah, and that in two weeks he's gonna check me again..."
"OK, well, that's good I guess. I'm glad there's nothing wrong, Brown Eyes. I wanna get old together, you know..."
"You're fucking stuck with me, Blondie!" Andy smiled as he leaned in and gave Sean a peck on the cheek.
"Good. I better be!"
In the meantime, Peggy Dickson and Marilyn Dowling were beginning planning Tim and Brett's wedding. Tim and Brett had given them the general outline of what they envisioned. Tim already picked out the hymns, and had the Craig Honors Choir set up to go as well as two kettle drummers and four trumpeters from the school orchestra. Andy was to be Brett's best man, and Tim with his oldest brother Kevin's understanding and approval asked his brother David to be his best man, and to wear his Marine dress uniform. Kevin would be the usher for the wedding. Brett selected conservative, gray morning dress as the attire for the wedding party as he hated tuxedos and thought they looked cheap and crass. All four boys would be escorted into the church during the processional by their mothers, Jim Nolan having against all odds and with a special request from Danny secured agreement from his `mother' to walk him into the church.
Peggy and Marilyn agreed that the ceremony would be easy as long as it was choreographed and practiced a few times, so fell to planning the reception for which Peggy had Ginny intervene with the City for the use of the North Pavilion at Riverside Park complete with a beer permit, which was unheard of in a City Park, as long as the wedding party agreed to pay for the time of a uniformed Police officer to be present.
"Well, I think this isn't so hard, don'tcha know," Peggy said. "About all we need to know yet is who the boys are gonna invite. I told Timmy why doesn't he keep it on the smaller side. The Church did him a favor is how I see it there..."
"I'm not sure Brett wants a lot of people, either. He's so happy, Peggy. I know we had a rough start of it and all, but Herb and I have really gotten to love Tim as if he was our own son. He's a fine young man," Marilyn said, wiping a tear from her eye.
"Well, ya know, we love Brett, too. He's done more for Timmy than any of us will probably ever know. George says that when Brett finishes school he'll make him a partnership offer in the law firm if he's interested. Timmy will be a partner once he's admitted to The Bar, and our other two sons aren't interested in the firm. Kevin's already got an offer from Harris Bank in Chicago once he's done this Spring, and David says that when his tour in Afghanistan is up he's going to the Marine Academy to be an Officer. I guess he's already been accepted..."
"Do you worry about him? I mean David?"
"All the time, hey... I mean what mother wouldn't? But his tour is up in July, so I'll keep my fingers crossed. He says they're short of men, and all, but he's always been confident, so..." It was Peggy's turn to wipe a tear.
Just then, Tim and Brett burst in. "Hi, mom! Hi Marilyn," Tim greeted them. "So, what's going on?"
"We're plannin' yer wedding there, Einstein!" Peggy shot back. "What are you two urchins up to?"
"We're just gonna hang out..." Brett smiled.
"Of course ya are! Well, when we finish up here, I'm goin' out to the Mall, so you can just keep your clothes on that long, OK?"
"Peggy! I never!" Brett said, feigning a southern accent.
"Yeah, of course ya didn't, and I never did, either there, handsome!" Peggy retorted which made Marilyn laugh.
"We get the point, mom..." Tim said, blushing, as they excused themselves to Tim's room at the far end of the long, low ranch home.
Once in Tim's room, Brett opened one of Tim's dresser drawers withdrawing a bandana, four sets of handcuffs, a buttplug and a jar of lube. He roughly ordered Tim to undress.
Once naked, Brett gagged Tim with the bandana, and ordered him to get on the bed and lie on his back with his arms and legs spread, which Brett proceeded to shackle to the bedposts. Tim was at Brett's total mercy.
"You can't cum until I say so!" Brett sternly whispered in Tim's ear. "And when you do, I'm going to feed you your own cum, and then I'm going to fuck you. But first, I'm going to edge you, and you can't cum!" Brett went back to the dresser drawer, retrieving a clear masturbator toy with a jelly-like consistency. At the bedside, he lubed Tim's now-rock-hard cock, jacking it until the head was purple then releasing it all at once pointing straight up in the air. Next, Brett lubed the buttplug, then lubed Tim's asshole, carefully and lovingly inserting the buttplug until he knew it was massaging Tim's prostate as Tim's cock leaked a fat stream of clear liquid.
Behind the gag, Tim could be heard groaning in ecstasy, but Brett was only beginning. He applied the jelly-like cylinder around Tim's and began to jack it as he placed two fingertips on the base of the buttplug rotating it slightly in order to drive Tim closer to the edge. He jerked faster, then sensed by Tim's tightening abs that he was getting close.
Brett pulled the masturbator off Tim's cock which again stood straight up. Tim whined through the bandana. Brett made a flat plane out of his hand, applying it to the area of Tim's pubes just above his engorged shaft making circular motions while bending down and taking Tim's cock into his mouth. He swirled and swallowed Tim's big cock all the while moving the buttplug and his fingertips above the base of Tim's raging dick. Feeling the head expand, Brett withdrew his mouth and hands, again to Tim's fierce, but gagged protestations.
Every few seconds, Brett tugged at the foreskin on Tim's cock, or ran his fingertip feather-light over the length of it paying special attention to the underside of the glans. He was rewarded with copious streams of precum which he scooped up and fed to himself and to Tim.
Through the gag, Tim begged and implored Brett to continue stimulating him. For that, he earned a gentle yet reprimanding slap on the bottom of his ball sack to which Tim physically replied by lying helpless chained in front of his lover.
A knock came at the door. Peggy announced she was leaving for the Mall. "When I move the gag, you just say `OK' and nothing else, or you'll pay!' Brett commanded while sliding the gag up.
"OK..." Tim said breathlessly. The gag was swiftly stuck back into Tim's mouth.
"See you guys later!"
"Bye!" Brett said, leering at Tim.
Brett reapplied the masturbator to Tim's penis and resumed swirling the buttplug inside Tim's ass. Tim's sexual tension grew to fever-pitch as he writhed on the bed as far as his restraints let him, groaning through the gag in his mouth, face purple. His groans grew closer together and higher pitched as Brett increased the speed at which he jacked Tim off. Faster and faster he went until he knew his man was on the edge. Then he stopped, yanking the masturbator off Tim's cock. Tim moaned his displeasure, looking up at Brett with begging eyes.
"Will you seed my mouth, Timothy?" Brett asked, looking into Tim's pleading eyes.
Tim nodded.
"Do you want to cum now? Should I let you cum now?"
Again, Tim nodded, faster this time.
Brett slapped the masturbator back on Tim's still-hard pole, beginning jacking slowly then gradually raising the pace. Again, he rocked the buttplug back and forth inside Tim and stimulated Tim's abdomen above his cock. Tim thrashed under the ministrations, groaning in low, animal tones. Sensing Tim getting close, Brett slowed down the pace, again to Tim's disapproval. By and by, Brett removed the masturbator taking Tim's swollen, angry penis into his mouth. He swirled the head, continuing the secondary stimuli knowing that Tim was in a twilight world somewhere between reality and nirvana. The head of Tim's cock expanded in girth inside Brett's mouth pulsating with a life of its own. Tim's breathing became labored and ragged. His abs contracted and his back went stiff. With a gasp he unloaded his sperm into his lovers mouth in an orgasm that seemed never to end. He breath was desperate at this point.
As his orgasm subsided, Brett kept stimulating him and even before his orgasm high wore off another one shattered his body filling Brett's mouth yet again. He was rewarded with an open-mouthed kiss from his lover filling his own mouth with the musky taste of his own sperm. Back and forth between them they rolled Tim's sperm in their mouths. Presently, and without a word, Brett released Tim from his captivity.
"I love you..." Tim whispered.
"I know you do, and I'll fuck you later. I'll breed your ass, lover."
Tim smiled, his cock stiffening again. He began furiously jacking off, his had a blur. In not more than thirty seconds he covered Brett's leg with yet more ropes of creamy cum. "You drive me crazy, Brett. I couldn't help it..."
"I'm still fucking you later, Mr. Quarterback. Tonight your ass is mine."
"A hundred percent, husband..."
In Kenosha, a shop door opened and a customer walked to their car...
END CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR