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Email feedback can be sent to trager2275@gmail.com. © 2015 by Eric Trager.
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CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
As the 2015 football preseason progressed, there were both similarities and differences between this year's team and last year's. As a group, like its predecessor Championship team, there was outstanding cohesiveness, the players had fun and they were coachable. The biggest difference, and it was no surprise, was that with losses from graduating Seniors, the team's raw talent level wasn't quite as high. The Coaching staff knew that they would field a good team once again, but were smart enough to know that dreams of a repeat as Division I State Champions were most likely not in the cards, although a repeat as Big Eight Conference Champions looked like it might be reachable. At least, that was the general consensus.
Andy returned in his role as team Manager, but John did not return as Assistant Manager still having his lawn company to run which he did after school and on weekends, and which would take him into October.
At Quarterback, it was also no surprise that Kevin Masterson got the job at starting Quarterback. Unlike last year where Coach Slater was presented with basically a tie, this time the decision was clear. That didn't mean Sean viewed Kris Krieger as a less-than-quality player, it was merely that statistically in practice as well as experience-wise, Kevin Masterson was the clear choice. And as Coach Slater had done the year before, Sean held a meeting with his two prospective starting Quarterbacks prior to informing the rest of the team.
"Thanks for coming," Sean started out. "I'd like you to know that now I can see how hard of a decision stuff like this is for a Coach, but you didn't come here to hear that, did you gentlemen... I want you both to know that no one else knows what the decision is yet. None of the other players, and none of the other Coaches, not even Coach Slater."
Sean went on borrowing a line from Coach Slater's meeting a year ago. "I'm giving you the courtesy of this meeting because of the sportsmanship you've shown. And as a Rookie Coach, I thank you for that. Anyway. I'll cut to the chase here. I had to decide on which one of you is going to begin the season as our starting Quarterback. I want you both to know that the decision came down to practice statistics, and experience. I'm sorry, Mister Krieger, but," in another almost verbatim repeat of Coach Slater the year before, "Mister Masterson will be leading the Offense. Tell me what you think."
"That's fine, Coach," Krieger said. "In practice, Masts was better than me and he's got the experience anyway. We all knew that... I'd just like to get in some playing time if you think that's gonna be possible..."
"Mister Krieger," Sean replied. "You're good enough so that you're going to see a lot of playing time. There will be times when Mister Masterson will need a rest, and there might be a few times when we play opponents where your skill set might be superior in terms of game strategy, and in that case, you could very well start. Your development during preseason has been shockingly good for a guy who was Jayvee last year, and we want to keep developing you. You've got what it takes."
"Coach?" Masterson asked.
"Mister Masterson?"
"Well, Kriegs and me were talking about it and we want to know if it's OK if we wear jerseys Number One and Number Two like you and Dix did last year..."
"I appreciate that, and I'd say yes except that my number and Dix's number were retired at the end of last season. How about Numbers Three and Four, or Eleven and Twelve?"
"Eleven and Twelve," Krieger said without hesitation.
"I agree," Masterson said.
"Consider it done, gentlemen," Sean said not failing to note that is was Krieger who spoke his mind first. "And one more thing..."
"Yes, Coach?" both said.
"When you're out there on the field, believe in yourself. You've got to believe in yourself. If it's the biggest benefit of my experience I can pass along, it's that. You'll be running the Offense when you're on the field. No one else. And ask your team mates to believe in you. Everyone needs something to believe in. Butcha can't tell em to believe in you. Ya gotta ask em. And ya gotta earn it. I know that you will and that they will. And ya gotta let `em know that you believe in them, too. The last play in the Championship game last year, I was out of it. I had a concussion. I was dizzy and puking. We were down by three points with just a few seconds left to go and no time outs. But we won, and we only won because we believed in each other a hundred percent. We won because, as Cunns said before the game, we knew we'd either win it as a team, or we would die as individuals. That was the choice we had. You guys have it in you to go the whole distance. So, it wasn't any one individual. At any rate, I wouldn't say any of this stuff if I didn't believe in you."
"Yeah, you did win that game, Coach..." Krieger said.
"Au contraire, Mister Krieger. The team won that game. Don't forget, Mister Krieger, it was you who kept us alive in that game when Dix couldn't play and I had my bell rung. If you hadn't, we'd have lost. But I know that's what you meant..." Sean said, winking at Krieger. "Anyway, gentlemen, I think that's all."
Indicating that they didn't have anything more, Krieger and Masterson took their leave. Sean informed Coach Slater of the meeting, and that it went well. Coach Slater let Sean know that he felt the correct decision had been made, and indicated to Sean that they'd need to meet one day during school hours in the coming week to go over changes to the playbook for the new season.
"Oh, by the way, Coach Wyman, you'll never guess in a million years who we've drawn for our first game this year..."
"Who..."
"LaFollette. Same as last year. Except that this time we play at Monterey, so we're at home. As ugly as their season was last year – they didn't win a single game – they didn't replace their Head Coach. Go figure... Anyway, I want you to be prepared, but do not say anything to the players in advance, that at the first sign of dirty play, or play that could cause us injuries like they tried to last year, I'll want you to have the Offense open up a can of whoop-ass, and I'll have the Defense shut `em down just like we did last time. I don't give a fuck. I won't tolerate that sort of thing. That game last year still pisses me off. Anyone who thinks that's what High School football is all about can stick it right in their ass. We'll be at Monterey to play football, not act like a bunch of fucking Rubes."
"Don't worry, the Offense will be ready."
"Of that I have no doubt, Coach Wyman. I really gotta hand it to you, I never thought you'd have this year's Offense running not only the Power Sweep, but the Reverse Sweep, too. Those plays are money makers. No one else can run `em, and last year the only opponent we had that could effectively defend against them at all was Neenah in the Championship game."
"That's why I believe in these guys. Masterson's got the talent to do it, and Krieger's just about there. There are some teams I think Krieger could start against. He's grown a lot this preseason. I'm pleased with where the Quarterback staff is right now."
"Between you and me, Coach Wyman? We're starting the season significantly stronger at Quarterback than I thought we would be. We've got a great starter, and a capable back-up. That's a lot more than I'd hoped for. If the team has a weakness I can see at this point, I think it's in the defensive backfield which means extra work for the Linebackers. Can you find me another Dowling...? Please? Well, like I said, we'll see where this season goes..."
"That we will, Coach. That we will..."
"Very good. If there's nothing else, then?"
"Well, there is..."
"And that would be..."
"I want the entire team to take ballroom dance lessons."
"What?!"
"How do you think me and Dix did some of the things we were able to do last year? Now, I know this will sound dumb, but you came to Homecoming. We danced up a storm that night. And you saw how good we were... I don't think you knew we took ballroom dance lessons every Saturday. We never told anyone. Not even you. But it's not the dancing, it's the fine muscle control, the jumping, the turning on a dime when the music does. And it's good conditioning as well. One dance practice is like a hundred wind sprints. The team has to function as an orchestra. Our formations, and the plays and everything else are only the sheet music, but on the field the team has to play it... And they have to do so reliably..."
Coach Slater chuckled, "Coach Wyman, I've told you before what a pair you and Mister Dickson were. I guess I didn't know the half of it... I'll leave it up to you make arrangements for ballroom dance to be included as part of our physical conditioning. Between you and me, that's how I'm gonna hafta sell it... Sometimes, Coach, you're the kind of guy who I swear will give me an ulcer, but then I have to remember that you're worth it..."
"The day I'm not worth it, hand me my walking papers..."
"Very well, have we finally exhausted everything for now, Coach?"
"I think it's a wrap, Coach."
"Alright, go home and have a beer. You've earned it. I shall need several..."
On his way out of the building, Sean spied Kevin Masterson. It looked like he was talking to someone, but Sean was a distance where it was difficult to tell who it might be. Drawing closer, he could see that Kevin was engaged in a conversation with Scott Branson. Sean's lips drew into a half-smirk, and he decided he'd crash their little party for a second, or two.
Walking up unnoticed, Sean greeted the two, "Hey what are you guys doing out here?"
"Um, we're just talking, Coach..." Kevin said.
"Coach?" Scott asked, with a highly inquisitive look.
"Yeah, Scott. I can't play this year because I'm brain damaged. So, I'm the Quarterback Coach. My job is to torture Kevin, but I see you've already met..."
"Yeah, we were just gonna go get something to eat," Scott said. "I stayed late to do some tutoring for the Special Classes, and well, we just kinda ran into each other..."
"Alright, well, be good, cuz!" Sean said.
"Wait! You guys are related?" Kevin asked.
"Yeah, we're like seventeenth cousins fourteen times removed, or something like that," Sean smirked. "Kevin can tell ya all about it. Anyway, don't do anybody I wouldn't do!" Sean then winked, and departed.
"So, you are REALLY related?"
"Yes, we are. We are second cousins once removed. I think. Or maybe just second cousins... But, yeah, we are..."
"Cool, I mean it's kinda weird for me because we kinda got to be friends, I mean Sean and me, and now he's my Coach so we can't be friends until the season is over. That's kind of a bummer in a way because I really like him, but I guess that's just how it's gonna hafta be..."
"My mom's a genealogy nut, and yeah, Sean inherited the best of the Branson traits for sure. Tall, blonde, that angular face, confident, smart, maybe even a little cocky. If he wasn't related to me I might..."
"Oh, please, if he wasn't all but married I WOULD!"
"What are you telling me, Kevin?"
"I'm gay."
"Is it OK if I am, too?"
"Yeah, I mean I'd like a gay friend here now that Sean's my Coach and all... Who knows, maybe I'll find a boyfriend sometime, too..."
"Yeah, maybe so will I... Anyway, should we go grab a bite?"
"Yeah, and thanks for asking me..."
The two sat at the restaurant far longer than they thought they would. Long enough so that they both phoned home to say not to wait dinner on them.
When it was time to leave, Scott was the one to ask for a second meeting. "So, um, wanna maybe meet up again sometime?"
"I'd like that," Kevin replied. "How about Saturday? I mean, our first game is Friday night and I don't have anything set for Saturday, do you?"
"Nope."
"Whadya wanna do?"
"I got an idea. I know this spot along the river north of town. Nobody goes there. At least not early in the day... It's like a little swimming hole. There's a big tree with a rope on it so you can swing out and land in the river. It's nice. I could pack us some food and we could swim around and have a little picnic and stuff..."
"I'd like that. So, are you, like, out at school?"
"Well, I'm not out and I'm not `not out'... See, last year I kinda thought maybe I was bi, or maybe I didn't know what I was. I think it was over the Summer when I figured out that I'm gay. I mean, I know that's a little bit late and everything because I'll be eighteen soon, but, hey... So, are you out?"
"To my family, yeah. I wasn't out in school at all. West just wasn't conducive to it, at least not for me. I mean, if you're out at West you're expected to be one of those social justice warrior types, and that's just not how I roll. They're, well, they're really no fun, anyway... I don't think I necessarily wanna be out here at Craig, either, or at least not until football season's over. I mean, I'm not gonna hide it, or anything, but I'm new here and I think right now I got a new team and a new athletic program to get used to, so that has to be my priority for now... Does that make sense?"
"Yeah. It does."
"Plus, I gotta do college applications before the Semester is out, too..."
"Where you thinkin' of going?"
"Well, I could probably get into UW-Madison, butcha know, I grew up in Madison so I'm kinda thinking of going somewhere else. I don't think UW-Milwaukee because it's not as good of a school. Marquette's private, so it's too expensive. I got three brothers behind me, ya know... I was thinking maybe University of Minnesota. There's reciprocity, so it would still be in-state tuition. Right now, that seems like the best bet to me..."
"Really? Wow! U of M is my first choice! My mom's from Minneapolis so I've got family there, and my Uncle's a Chemistry Professor at U of M... It's really a great town if you don't mind Winter..."
"I ski."
"Me, too! Wow!"
"So, Saturday then?"
"Consider it a date, Mister! I mean, it is a date, right?"
"It's a date... And, um, I'm really glad you asked..."
"I'm glad I asked, too."
With that, the two boys left the restaurant and went their own separate ways, but not before Scott pulled Kevin in and gave him a kiss. "Think about that while you're doing your homework tonight!"
"I don't think I'll have a choice. See you tomorrow at school, Scott, and thanks again. You made my day..."
At the Alamo dinner was just finishing up. In the past week, over many an objection, Joe and Sean finally convinced Mrs. Cheadle to take her dinner with the family. They relented to her point that breakfast would be impractical and she was the only person around for lunch except on weekends, but they insisted and she gave in. In the end, she found that she enjoyed the family's company, and they found her to be an entertaining addition to the dinner table.
That evening, she filled the rest of them in on the Twins' latest checkup at Doctor Schroeder's office. According to the Doctor, both were within the normal weight range for babies their age, and were slightly longer than average. There were no issues to report. And both continued to have voracious appetites. They still insisted on being in the same bassinet, though. Mrs. Cheadle said she didn't see anything wrong with that, at least not at this early stage, and in her estimation, they were "good babies" who didn't fuss.
Sean and Andy read to them every day, and sometimes Joe did as well. John was still somewhat spooked about holding something so tiny and delicate in his arms, so instead of reading to them, he played with them with bright, shiny toys thinking that would be good for their vision, helping them to focus, and they could grab things in their hands never-mind that once they grabbed at them there wasn't much they could do with the toys.
Sean and Andy noted that when they were picked up to be read to, they boys smiled, and that they seemed to be most at ease when they were read Doctor Seuss, even though they obviously understood none of it. They smiled most at Green Eggs and Ham. Whether it was Mrs. Cheadle, or family members, the two little boys were showing that they were happy babies, and enjoyed knowing that there were other people nearby.
Mrs. Cheadle said that if there was one slightly odd thing she noticed it was that they tended to do the same things at the same times. She reported that they slept and woke together, wanted to be fed together, and even pooped their diapers together. On a, for her, humorous note she simply said it made her job easier because if one wanted, or needed something, then so did the other.
Sean asked if she thought once they started to talk, if it would be with an English accent.
"I never thought about that, Sir," Mrs. Cheadle answered. "They might... But you Americans all talk like someone put a clothespin over your noses..."
"Bugger me!" Sean said which made even Mrs. Cheadle laugh heartily, especially when Andy replied, "I'll bugger you, alright..."
"TMI," Joe said through his laughter.
FRIDAY NIGHT – FIRST GAME OF THE 2015 SEASON
In the locker room, ready to take the field for the first game of the new season, the Cougars huddled. They heard the announcer call the crowd to attention.
"Ladies, and gentlemen! Welcome to Monterey Stadium and the 2015 season opener! Tonight, our Cougars are hosting the Madison LaFollette Lancers! Introducing the Lancers..."
The crowd responded with polite, albeit subdued applause.
"And now.... Introducing your defending Division I State Champion Couuuuuuugarrrrrrs!!!!!!" The crowd went wild as Royal Blue and White fireworks lit up the night sky while the old General Motors plant on the opposite bank of the river bellowed sustained blasts on its ancient steam whistles.
The coaches were introduced first, with a two-minute standing ovation for Sean at Quarterback Coach dressed in his Number Two jersey from last season, saluting his home crowd as he jogged out to mid-field. The rest of the team was introduced to raucous applause and cheers.
The announcer let the crowd know that, as in last year's opener, both Coaches waived the mercy rule and there would be four quarters of football played that evening. With that, the Referee and both teams' Captains were at mid-field for the coin toss.
The Cougars won the toss and elected to receive. Coach Slater wasn't one for deferring in front of a home crowd unless it was absolutely necessary for strategic reasons, and this was a game he expected his men to win handily.
In the event, the Cougars did win handily, and just like last year LaFollette racked up a mind-boggling number of penalties while the Cougars had none. At game's end, the score showed Cougars 56, Lancers 6. Sean made sure both of his Quarterbacks saw playing time, and both acquitted themselves well, avoiding sacks and throwing no interceptions. It may not have been quite the drubbing of last year's 71-0 shutout at Breese Stevens Field in Madison, but it was a thumping blowout nonetheless. Coach Slater, never one for reinventing the wheel, gave the team the exact same speech he gave after last year's opener.
Sean and Andy avoided the after-game parties. Sean didn't think he should go due to his position now as a Coach, and Andy had an early morning appointment with Rosemary Kennedy to finalize the restoration plans for her house. She had, in fact, consulted others who were in that business, but at the end of the day she felt that Andy's plans best reflected what she envisioned, and that he was the easiest to deal with. The first thing to be done would be the garage and the space over the garage which would be converted into a two- bedroom guest suite allowing her and Kathleen to move into it while the main house was being done. The entire project would take four months once the garage was done. The City initially balked at allowing living space above the garage because the house was in the Courthouse Hill Historic District until Andy was able to prove to them that it would be both up to code for living space, and that from an outside street view no one would be able to tell that any modifications had been made to the structure.
The total cost of the down-to-the-studs restoration was estimated to be $374,000, of which Andy's cut as General Contractor was ten percent, or $37,400. At first Andy declined the General Contractor's cut, but Mrs. Kennedy insisted on paying him. As much as Andy protested he didn't need the money, she wouldn't take no for an answer, so Andy agreed not telling her that he would put it toward an idea he and Sean had been hatching for some time.
In addition, Mrs. Kennedy appeared to be keeping to her word with respect to playing the role of Grandmother. Twice since she and Sean had come to a tentative agreement she visited the Alamo in the company of Ginny and while they were there they gave Mrs. Cheadle a break for a half-hour each time and they held the babies doing as Sean and Andy did, reading to them. It was not lost on Ginny that the twins seemed unusually aware of each other and as Mrs. Cheadle observed seemed to do everything at the same time. At the end of their first visit, she whispered in both of their ears for only them to hear that they'd want for nothing in life, then chivvying Mrs. Kennedy along as she had a meeting with George Dickson at her house.
At the end of her business meeting with George she mentioned she had another subject she wanted to bring up. "It has to do with the old Monterey Hotel..."
"I thought you were done with all that," George said.
"It's not for me, George, but I just want your input about what the best way would be for the City to basically force them to sell it. I mean, after all it's been sitting there since you were in High School, if not longer, just rotting away and gathering dust..."
"Well, as long as the owner isn't violating City Code, there's nothing anyone can do. It's not against the law to own a vacant building..."
"What about something like a Neighborhood Commission? I mean, could there be a Neighborhood Commission set up with eminent domain powers?"
"That's a very good question. I'm honestly not sure. Tell ya what, I know a few people in the State Attorney General's Office. I'll give them a shout and see what they say. To the best of my limited knowledge on the subject, there may be instances such as you suggest, but as I say it's not really my area of the law. If state law permits it, I suppose it could be done, but the flip side to it is that it may be a case ripe for litigation if the owner should resist. That's my best guess right now..."
"Well, let's see what can be done. I have a feeling if the City set it up and then it was litigated they wouldn't want to spend money having the City Attorney litigate it. If they did that, could I litigate it?"
"I don't see why not... After all, you're the President of the Citizens Finance Committee... You might either be able to do it yourself as a concerned citizen, or offer to pay the City's cost if they agreed to go forward. Either way. What's your interest in that old pile of crap anyway?"
"Oh, I'm not interested, George, but a couple young men I know are..."
"Oh, Jeez... Well, why don't we see what we can do... I'm not sure it's a good investment, but..."
"Not as a Hotel it's not a good investment, but as a Condo development project it seems to be. I've run the numbers using very high figures for conversion costs and conservative numbers for resale pricing, and there's a decent profit to be made... Even rented as high-end apartments it turns a profit. Plus, you know what a do- gooder I am..."
"Yes, we all do, Ginny. No one can say that's not true. Anyway, we got that paperwork done for you, and like I said, I'll look into the Neighborhood Commission thing. You sure you can get it past the City Council?"
"There's seven of them, George. I flat-out OWN three of them, and all I need is one more... I can usually get the one more that I need with a paltry sweetener if need be. A little dinner, a little friendly persuasion, you know... Besides, it wouldn't be fair if I owned the whole Council..."
"Maybe not, but it would be more efficient. What if you can't get four?"
"If I can't get four, I'll put the fourth vote on the Council myself in this Spring's Council elections. And it's someone who would both do it and who would win walking away, trust me."
"You running for Council then?"
"Heavens no! You know I never exercise power overtly, George. I do it the old-fashioned way: behind the scenes. That way, I don't have to answer to anyone. If I've learned one thing over the years, it's that... That's why I've lasted all these years. That, and a person can use their power for good, or for bad. I've always tried to use mine for good. Like I told the boys, GM didn't reopen their plant here because they're nice people, and you and I both know it wasn't an accident they picked Joe Wyman to run it. I don't think anyone else but me could have pulled that one off."
"That's true. You've lasted how we've all lasted..."
"Us smart ones, anyway... But don't worry, you find out how we do this Monterey thing and I'll make it happen. It'll be my last hurrah, and then it'll be time to start to hand on to the next generation..."
"You sure about that?"
"As sure as I'll ever be, George... I've been asking myself lately if I still have anything left to offer. Well, I have. And that is to see to it that once I take my final curtain call, everything is left with those who are equipped to perform their duty. I had to do it on my own after I got rid of those bastards who thought they'd sweep me under the carpet once I was widowed, but after me it will revert to a consortium just like it always was before. This old broad's not gettin' any younger, George... I turned seventy a couple weeks ago... In five years' time, hopefully less, I'd like not to have to think about these things any more. It'll be time for old Ginny to hand on. Time to stop and smell the roses..."
"Yes, yes I suppose it is... In five, or ten years' time, I'd like to be in the same position."
At the Alamo, Joe called a meeting with Andy and Sean.
"Guys, I just wanna find out what your plans are for college next year..."
"Dad, I won't be going," Sean said. "I've got two kids now, and like I told Coach Slater they have to be the focus of my life. Maybe in a few years when they're in school I can go, but I just can't do it now. I have a responsibility. I didn't ask for it, but I have it all the same."
"I see," Joe said. "We'll come back to that. Andrew?"
"I'm gonna apply to Milwaukee School of Engineering."
"So, you'll be moving to Milwaukee?"
"No, no I won't. For the first two years I can do it online. After that, I'll need to commute, but it's only about an hour to Milwaukee and my car gets good mileage, so it'll be fine. I'll be getting a degree in Architecture. I've already looked over their entrance requirements. My grades are just a little better than they require, but if I do well on the SAT tests and if I can get a recommendation from somebody important I'm pretty sure I'll get in."
"Well, who do we know that's important?"
"Ginny told me she'd contact the Speaker of the House. I'd say other than the President himself, it doesn't get more important than that. She said the Speaker would want to meet me first, but he only lives right through the ravine and he's home every weekend..."
"Very good. Now, Sean... I'm not happy at your decision."
"I knew you wouldn't be, dad. And I'm sorry if it's disappointing, but like I said I have responsibilities now that I can't get out of. I know we have Mrs. Cheadle and all, but kids need parents. If I went away to school they'd practically be orphans. I can't do that to them, dad... I'm sorry, but I can't. I suppose I could take a few courses at U-Rock*, or Blackhawk Tech, and I know you think that's beneath me, but that's as far as I can go around here. Sure, I could go to UW-Whitewater but they don't have the majors I'd want. I'd want my major to be Civil Engineering. I can do two years of online at MSOE just like And's gonna do and then finish the rest by commuting... That is IF we still have Mrs. Cheadle..."
"Sean, son, that's acceptable. You made your case, and I understand. I was considerably older than you are when you were born. Had I been your age, honestly, I don't know what my choice would have been. My family had no money at all, in fact your grandfather was already dead, and your mother's family was hardly wealthy. You never knew it, but your mother never went to college. So, yeah, I understand. And I'm glad I never had to make that choice..."
"Well, everyone has to know that given the twins, I might not finish in four years. If it takes longer, it takes longer, and if I decide to do something else, I decide to do something else, but being a father comes first. That's my decision. I can't change it, dad. Those two little guys depend on me and I have to answer up to that."
"As I said, son, that's acceptable. And I guess I can be proud of both of you. You were right to make wills and you were right to have George marry you. That way you've protected each other. And by the luck of the draw, you're not starting out in life as paupers. You should realize just HOW lucky you are, and I know you have level heads and won't treat your money as if you were ghetto-rich, pardon my French. You should both be proud of the decisions that you've made so far. As long as I'm here, I'm here to help if you need the experience of an older man. It's never smart to reinvent the wheel, guys... You're good men both of you. Sean, get us each a beer and pour us each a shot, will ya?"
"Sure thing, dad..."
"By the way, Andrew, what have you heard so far from your Uncle Dean?"
"Well, according to George his Lawyer says he refuses to pay. But he won't offer any proof of payment. So, a foreclosure suit was filed against him. If he doesn't pay, I'll end up with his house..."
"Why would you want it?"
"That's not the point. First, he screwed my mom out of the money and we had to go live in an apartment after dad died. Now, I was too young to really know the difference, but mom was mortified. Can you imagine what the neighbors said about her when we lost our house? Uncle Dean never paid her back. I had Crossman get a hold of ALL of her banking records from the date she loaned him the money forward and send them to George. There is no record of him paying her back a penny. His house? Absolutely I don't want it... But I might end up with it, or I might make him a deal..."
"And that deal would be?" George asked.
"He either pays up, or the foreclosure goes through and I take title to the property. I'll be eighteen by that time so it's OK. I'll let him stay in the house as my Tenant for a monthly payment equal to the $350,000 he owes my mom at 5% interest just like the note he signed amortized over maybe five or ten years depending on what I decide plus property taxes, water bill and insurance. When he's done paying up I'll give him title back. He can take my deal, or leave it. I don't give a shit where he lives... He's not married and doesn't have any kids... Anyway, if he doesn't want to take my deal, the Sheriff will kick him out and I'll hire a Broker down there to sell the place. According to what Ginny pulled up, it's worth about $650,000 – $700,000 right now so I'd make money and he'd end up with a foreclosure on his credit. That's my deal. Period."
"That is a stringent deal, Andrew, however it is not unfair. Your Uncle is a prick."
"All I know is mom never had a good word to say about him. I guess I found out why. I'm not asking for anything he didn't sign for... And I'd be giving him extra time to pay, too, so who gets the better deal here? He does... And he must have a dumbass for a Lawyer if he thinks he has a case to get out of the foreclosure... He fuckin' doesn't..."
"Again, I am proud of your maturity. It appears the man rightfully owes the money and is unwilling to pay. There is no shame in collecting a contracted debt. And for what it's worth, I believe he's got the money to pay it, or at least to pay a good portion of it and has an income stream to support paying off the rest of it over an agreeably short amount of time. Collect your debt, Andrew."
"I intend to."
"Anyway, we've got beers getting warm and shots sitting here, so should we raise a toast?"
All three raised their shot glasses and Joe proposed a toast. "To Sean and Andy. Two fine young men. Here's mud in your eye!"
Down their hatches the shots went followed by deep draughts on all parts of the local Gray's Oatmeal Stout.
At that moment, Sean heard his cell phone go off. He picked it up to see who was calling, and the caller was identified as "Slater, R." He wondered why on Earth Coach Slater would be calling him at that hour on a Saturday night. Sean shrugged and answered.
"Hello?"
"Sean, this is June Slater, Coach's wife," she said, sounding to Sean to be either a bit harried, or a bit distraught. "I'm sorry to bother you, but Coach asked me to call you. He's been taken to Mercy Hospital. He's had a stroke..."
"Good God!" Sean gasped. "How is he?"
"We don't know yet," she said, voice still quavering, "but according to the Doctors it's not a minor stroke. Before they put him in the ambulance, he said, `Call Wyman.' He can talk. A little. But he can't use anything on the left side of his body."
"Let me know when he can have visitors. I won't say anything to anyone unless I hear different. Does anyone else know?"
"Just you, Sean. Please go to see him in the morning. If he asked me to call you that means he wants to see you."
"I'm so sorry. Let Coach know I'm praying for him. And for you, Mrs. Coach. And let me know if there's anything you need. Tell him I'll be there tomorrow at some point."
"I will."
"God bless you."
"You too, Sean."
Sean then hung up. "Holy shit!"
"What?" Joe and Andy said in unison.
"Um... That was Coach Slater's wife. She said, well... She said Coach had a stroke."
"WHAT THE FUUUUUUCK!" Andy gasped.
"Yeah, and she said Coach told her to call me. Not anyone else. Me. And that I should go see him in the morning..."
"What do you suppose that means?" Andy asked.
"The fuck if I know... She said no one else knows. At least not yet. I said I wouldn't tell anyone, I mean, it's not my place..."
"No, it isn't, son," Joe agreed.
"So," Andy said, "If Coach can't finish out the season what are we gonna do?"
"I don't know... I guess we'd hafta get a new Head Coach. But Coach isn't dead, so whoever it is, they're gonna hafta be smart enough to leave the title with Coach. He took us to a State Championship last year. He ran the show. I pity whoever gets the job..."
"Sean-o? Do you see any of the other Coaches being able to fill his shoes?"
"Want my honest answer?"
"Honesty is always the best policy, son," Joe said, stating the obvious.
"I don't. I don't see any of the other Coaches filling Coach's shoes... They're good at their segment during practice and all that, but when it comes to game strategy, inspiring the team, and everything else, I just don't see one... I'm sorry, I don't. I have my job and it's Quarterback Coach. I'll do my job. My Quarterbacks will be ready..."
"That's all you can do, son..." Joe said.
"I have to be responsible to the team. Coach trusted me... Sometimes, shit happens..."
"That's the attitude," Joe agreed.
Sean made but one phone call, and that was to Tim. He swore Tim to secrecy that he'd tell no one other than Brett about Coach.
"Well, other than that, how are you guys settling in?" Sean asked.
"OK, I guess. It's already the second week of classes and it's not that hard so far... I mean, it's a lot of work, but I just stay with the syllabus in every class and it's fine. We're really glad dad bought a house instead of making us live in the dorms, though... We didn't want that much noise and shit. Everyone talks about the college experience. We're here for one reason, to get it over with..."
"How's Brett doing?"
"Fine, he had a late lab so he's not home yet. Typical Brett, he's taking twenty credits his first semester... He tested out of so much shit that by the time this year's done with, he'll have enough credits to be considered going into his Junior year next year."
"Jesus Christ... That guy's something else..."
"Well, he doesn't want it to take forever. He wants to be done with everything by the time he's 24. That means LLD and MD. I just hope he doesn't kill himself in the process..."
"Support him, Dix... By the way, I'm not going to college..."
"WHAT?"
"Can't. Gotta be a dad. I'll take online courses from Milwaukee School of Engineering. It's fine. At least you'll know where to find me..."
"Yeah, I guess so... Heard you guys kicked LaFollette's ass again."
"Pretty much, yeah," Sean laughed. "Why do they always suck? I mean, it's like it's not even fun beating them they suck so bad, and they just play dirty... That gets old."
"If it was up to me, the WIAA would put their program on probation."
"I agree. I mean, is it just because it's Madison?"
"Prolly. I mean, so far, I like Madison, but it is a little bit like living in a bubble... What's the saying? The People's Republic of Madistan, sixty square miles surrounded by reality?"
"Dunno, Dix... Anyway, when you guys gonna come down and see my sons..."
"We'll be down Wednesday. We're both done with classes and stuff by 2:00, so we can get our study time and be there about dinner time. That good?"
"Yeah, and you're stayin' for dinner, too... Bring your books and shit if you think you might stay over..."
"Ya know, we just might... Hey, heard that Colleen died and Old Kennedy shot himself. Too bad and all, butcha know, Wymo, in life ya get whatcha play for... We're all gonna die someday anyway and the way I figure it is they only fuckin' dug their own graves."
"That's what I figure, too. I mean, it's like you say, but I ain't gonna lose any sleep over it. I could get hit by a bus tomorrow for all I know... My responsibility is to my sons, not to the memories of some shitty meth slut and her asshole father. They fucked me over, ya know..."
"They did. And I'm glad to hear ya say you've moved on. Yeah, those two little guys you got? They're all that matters... They are ALL that matters, Wymo."
"They ARE all that matters... Them and And..."
"Exactly. And I'm sorry Coach had a stroke. Should we come down tomorrow, too? I mean, I'll come down, me and Brett and we'll go with ya tomorrow. Wanna go about 9:00 in the morning? We can drive down and be there by then... But, Wymo, there's only one guy who can take charge of the entire team until Coach is better and make it work and that's you. Sorry, bud, but not sorry. We both know it."
"Don't even go there... Don't EVEN... You're fucking nuts, Dix... And 9:00 is fine. Come to the Alamo and you can see the boys. I'll have a quick breakfast ready for ya, too."
"Fine, and look, dude, I might be nuts, but I'm only tellin' ya what I see... Take it for whatcha will..."
"Just make sure both you guys are wearing your Jerseys from last year. Wear the home field Jerseys. I'll have mine on and And's gonna have his Manager's Jersey on."
"Will do. Now, about what I said, wait and see, that's all I'm sayin'...
"Deal, but don't hold your breath..."
The next morning, Sean was up at 7:30 preparing breakfast. He said he'd have a quick breakfast ready for everyone, so the menu was spinach and cream cheese omelets, English bangers that he'd taken a liking to after some prompting from Mrs. Cheadle, he had bacon strips cooking off in a parchment-lined jelly roll pan inside one of the ovens of the sixty-inch Wolf gas range, and there were English muffins ready to toast. The omelets and bangers were waiting in the Wolf warming drawer while he did clean up duty, the bacon he reckoned would be ready when Tim and Brett showed up and as soon as they did he'd drop the muffins down the twin four-slice Dualit toasters. Two pots of coffee were ready to go on the warmers of the hard-plumbed Bunn coffee maker.
Sean's definition of a "quick breakfast" meant easy to prepare, and it was, but it still had to meet his standards of food well-prepared.
The alarm system signaled two people walking up the front walk, a quick glance at the monitor confirming it was Tim and Brett. Sean pushed the button to unlock the door and through the intercom told them simply to come to the kitchen. Then he paged Andy in the bathroom, hearing that he was just finishing his shower, letting him know breakfast was ready and he should get his ass to the kitchen.
All sitting down to breakfast, they wolfed it down as in true Sean style it was exceedingly well made, and it was tasty. A self-taught cook Sean was, but he took the time on his own and out of necessity after his mother died, to learn basic cooking techniques and he had a lot of them mastered. It was a safe bet that he could walk into any restaurant kitchen in Janesville, including the Country Club, and know what he was doing.
The boys didn't talk much over breakfast other than catching up on things such as whether, or not Tim and Brett were finding college to be challenging, what was going on with the football team, and other scuttlebutt, but making no mention of Coach Slater's stroke.
Once they were done eating, Tim volunteered that they should take Tim and Brett's car. As good as his word, George bought the newly-married couple a car, but as he warned Tim it was one car, not one apiece for each of them. It was a good car, though, a 2015 Buick Regal GS with all-wheel-drive in the candy-apple red color the factory called Crimson Red Tintcoat, a four-door sports sedan built by Opel in Germany and sold as a Buick in the United States. It suited Tim and Brett well, being sporty enough with its turbocharged 2.0 liter four-cylinder engine to satisfy young drivers, yet practical enough, not over-powered and with all-wheel-drive to be a safe car, and as Tim preferred, they got the stick-shift option. In a General Motors town like Janesville, it let both boys show good face. Not for them the de rigueur BMW, or Audi.
Arriving at the Hospital, they were given Coach's room number. Sean said he'd knock and enter first as Coach wasn't expecting the others, and he'd see how things looked before inviting the rest of them in. Giving his customary "shake-and-a-haircut-two-bits" knock, he heard a voice unmistakably Coach Slater's, but rather muted.
"Enter, Mishter Wyman..." Coach said, slightly slurred.
Entering, Sean saw his Coach and mentor looking ashen and somewhat weak, in a hospital bed, back inclined with a pillow behind his head. The left side of Coach's face appeared to be drooping. He bade Sean sit down.
"Thank you for coming, Coasch," he told Sean. "I ashked you to come for a reazhon..."
"I figured that, Coach... Before we get into that, I brought you a surprise. Is it OK?"
"Yesh..."
Sean then turned around and motioned the others to enter. In strode Tim in his #1 Jersey, Brett in his #88, and Andy with his Manager's Jersey. Coach Slaters mouth quivered a little and a tear came to his eye. Instinctively, Sean reached over, grabbed a Kleenex and handed it to Coach Slater so he could wipe his eyes.
"Shank you, Mishter Wyman... Coasch Wyman I mean. Men, it meanzh a lot to me that you came to shee me today. I'm doing OK, don't let anyshing scare you."
"It's good to see you, too, Coach..." Brett said. "Get better soon. You mean a lot to us."
"Yes, you do," Tim and Andy agreed.
"Thanksh, guyzh... I have something to shay and I'm glad you're all here to hear me shay it."
The boys simply stood quietly other than Sean who remained seated.
"Guyzh, I'll be back but not for a while. Doctor says two monsh. Shomeone hazh to run the show. Coasch Wyman, it'sh in my contract that I can name an Acting Head Coasch if I am phyzhically dishabled, whisch I am. You are to be Acting Head Coasch effective immediately. I... Mishter Wyman, I believe in you..."
"Coach, I mean, well, I mean..."
"Coasch Wyman, in the Schampionship Game you told me to put you back in becauzhe nobody elshe but you could do it. Nobody elshe but you can do thish, either. Do you accshept..."
"I... I don't have a choice, Coach. You believed in me then, and you say you believe in me now. Do you think the other Coaches will believe in me?"
"They have no choishe, son... I believe in you, and that'sh all she wrote. I had Mishter Dickshon'zh dad scheck on the legality of it, and you're good. God Shpeed, Head Coasch Wyman..."
"I will do my best, Coach. That's all I can do."
"Son, your besht will be better than anybody elshe's besht. That'sh why I picked you."
"OK, fine, well, how am I supposed to explain this tomorrow when I show up to run practice?"
"Everyone'zh been notified, Coasch... It'sh up to you to take charge. Shay something to the team, and then give them a normal Monday's practische... Afterwardzh you come see me and let me know how it went. I left inshtructionzh zhat you have a standing invitation to shee me. Anytime."
"I'll do that, Coach. Can I be honest here?"
"Of course."
"I'm scared. I mean, will the other Coaches be OK with this..."
"You should be shcared. But you should not be pet... petr... pet-ri-fied. You do what you know to do. Go ahead and do it. I shaid already I believe in you. I told them to fucking believe in you, too. I already fucking told them... I already shaid that... Shtop worrying about it."
"OK, well what about the Superintendant? What about the School Board?"
"The Shuperintendant knows I have dirt on her for how she let shtudent club money be mishmanaged. And it'sh big time. The Shchool Board? Union hacksh izh all they are. Dronezh... They don't give shit about thish crap... Only for your earzh - the Board givezh you shit, tell `em talk to Ginny Miller, you got that?"
Sean smiled, extended his hand, saying, "I'll do my best, Coach. That's all I can do."
"Yesh, you will. If that'sh all, I'm rather tired, guyzh... It'sh gonna be a long road back, but I'll be back. Thanksh for coming..." With that, Coach Slater nodded off and the boys took their leave.
"Dix," Sean said, "can you get Father Taylor to say a few prayers for me? I think I'm gonna need `em..."
"Wymo," Tim answered, "for what it's worth here's what I'd do if it were me. I'd walk into practice tomorrow, tell the guys what's going on and without any flash just start to run the show. The train's left the station..."
"That's what I planned on doing... I don't think I'm gonna tell my dad about it just yet, maybe tomorrow night. That way he can't try to talk me out of it if that's what he thinks."
"That's prolly a good idea," Andy said.
"Wish me luck," Sean said with more than a hint of gallow's humor.
The next day, Monday, at the start of practice, Sean blew his whistle and had the team gather round. "Gentlemen, I need to tell you that over this past weekend Coach Slater sustained a stroke. It was not a minor one. He's in the hospital and resting comfortably." The huddled team gasped. Several started to ask questions. "I saw him yesterday. He'll be back, but probably not for six to eight weeks. In the meantime, our season goes on. That's what Coach wants us to do. He told me so. He said, `The show must go on.' I also need to tell you that, and it came as a total shock to me, he appointed me Acting Head Coach until he returns.
"When a man like Coach Slater asks you to shoulder such a responsibility, you do it. For loyalty and for the team. I won't lie to you. I've got butterflies in my stomach, but I've also got a job to do and I intend to do it the best I can. All I'm gonna ask you, Gentlemen, is to believe in me as much as I believe in you. I think at this time we all have the right to claim the aid and support of one another. We've still got a job to do so let's get down to business and do it. What are we gonna do, guys..."
Sean's team answered back with thunderous cheers, slaps on the back and assurances that the team would pull together both for the sake of their stricken Coach, and for his stand-in. In the background, there was at least one sound of grumbling from one of the other Coaches that did not go lost on Sean. He'd deal with that after practice.
Practice proceeded as normal, and afterwards the team broke but not before Sean asked both his starting Quarterback and his Defensive Captain to a meeting the next morning before school. The topic of discussion was to be a game plan for this week's game, and to help develop plans going forward. Afterwards, Sean approached the Defensive Line Coach and asked for a word.
"If I'm not mistaken, it appears as if my appointment as Acting Head Coach doesn't thrill you. Am I wrong?"
"You are not."
"Why's that?"
"You're only a kid. You've got no experience. I've been at this for over ten years. I'd question Coach Slaters thinking here. I mean, he has had a stroke..."
"Coach Slater informed me yesterday that all of the other Coaches were informed of his decision in advance of his telling me about it. Is that true?"
"Yeah, he called around..."
"Alright, well then, I fail to see what the issue is. I need to know if I have your support. This isn't about us, Coach. It's not about the Coaches. It's about the team. It's about the players. So, no, this isn't about me, or about you. I didn't ask for this, you know. But I was asked to do it, and do it I will. I need to know if that's clear."
"For now, yeah, it's clear."
"I'm only gonna ask of you what I asked of our men. Believe in me. I believe in you, Coach, and all of us have to hang together and deliver. We're a team. Again, I wish to be clear."
"You have management skill, Coach Wyman. And you've got stones. I'll give you that much. And you cut to the chase. You need help with anything, you let me know."
"Thank you, Coach."
With that, Sean breathed a sigh of relief. Truthfully, he didn't know if he had managerial skill, or not. He simply stood his ground and began to do what he had been asked to do in the way he knew how to do it. He resigned himself to thinking if that showed skill in some way it was only down to him being the kind of person who simply went ahead with what was put in front of him. He went into the locker room, made the rounds, locked what he still considered to be Coach Slater's office door and went home.
The next morning, Sean was asked to see Principal McVay. McVay wanted to know what he thought about removing Coach Slater's name from the Head Coach's office and having Sean's name in replacement. Sean recoiled. Who would pay for it, he asked. When told he said in no uncertain terms even though he knew it would be a relatively small expenditure he viewed it as a waste of taxpayer's money and expressed his surprise the Principal who never tired of complaining about `budget cuts' had considered it. "Any money that is spent on the team is to be spent on the players, and I will have final say over that," Sean stated matter-of- factly.
In addition to that, Sean reminded McVay that he was not the Head Coach, he was merely the Acting Head Coach, and Coach Slater's name would remain on the office door. He left the meeting with Principal McVay's head spinning that a student could be so businesslike. In truth, McVay was one of the better Principals in the district. He was offering Sean something that was worth about a hundred dollars at the most and Sean's reaction came as a bit of a surprise to him. For his part, Sean knew all that but simply didn't wish to get sucked into what he termed "the BS." He aimed to have his temporary stewardship of the team be as simple as possible. He considered it his job to produce a winning record, not have his name on an office door and certainly not to usurp Coach Slater's position earned over so many years.
Sean walked off to his first hour class wanting to get everyone off his back and leave him to be the student and Coach he needed to be. That was not to last as long as he hoped.
END CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
*U-Rock is short for University of Wisconsin-Rock County, a two-year campus located in Janesville. It is a feeder school for some of the University of Wisconsin four-year campuses, but not for the flagship campuses at Madison and Milwaukee.