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Message-ID: <40612asstr$1043698206@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Rev. Cotton Mather" <RevCottonMather@hotmail.dot.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Playing the Game II: Playing to Win, Ch. 31 (mf rom)
Date: Mon, 27 Jan 2003 15:10:06 -0500
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And now, the continuing saga of Sean Porter, Soccer Kid, brought to
you by The Church of the Erotic Redemption.  Tithes cheerfully
accepted.

Enjoy!



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Welcome to the Church of The Reverend Cotton Mather. This story is
the sole property of the author, and may not be copied or downloaded
for the intent of profit. Permission is freely given for anyone to
download or copy for their personal pleasure or use, as long as there
is no intent to charge money or barter for the privilege of acquiring
this material.

(Copyright 2003, Rev. Cotton Mather)

E-Mail all comments to RevCottonMather@hotmail.com
Don't be shy!  I enjoy hearing from you.
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PLAYING TO WIN:
PLAYING THE GAME, BOOK II


by Reverend Cotton Mather




- 31 -

THE ROLLING LOVEMOBILE



By Christmas, I had received so many offers and calls from scouts
and coaches from around the country, that even I was convinced that I
would be able to play college soccer on a scholarship.  Pick's offer
sheet arrived, and he followed up with several phone calls.  Florida
was offering me a full scholarship, room and board, reimbursement for
books and fees, plus an employment package that would pay me for
working about 10 hours a week in one of the stadium gift shops.

I also got offers from Minnesota and Indiana in the Big Ten, from
Creighton, Maryland, Rhode Island, Boston College, UConn, NYU, Texas,
UCLA, Oregon, and Arizona.  Some offers, I was sure, were a result of
working with Katrina Sorenno, who played on the UCLA women's team,
and James Bricker, the starting keeper for UConn, as well as Tasha
Wallace of Arizona, all of whom I knew from working for Duane Olchick
over the summer.  I also got offers with incentives from other SEC
schools, including some under the table offers that were very
generous.  My dad thought those offers were more to keep me from
going to Pick's program than anything else.  He said that one scout
from one of the schools had told him in confidence that they were
afraid Pick was building up a dynasty, kind of like what John Wooden
had built for the UCLA basketball program.

My parents knew, and probably Pick knew, but nobody else was aware
that I had every intention of signing up with Florida.  Pick Cropper
was the first to show his faith in me, and he had Jesse Wilhoit
playing for him.  I thought I would fit in well there.

My dad, meanwhile, was so happy that he wouldn't have to pony up for
my college education, that he broke into my college fund and bought
me a nice used car for Christmas, a two year old VW Rabbit.  No more
begging rides to school from Jake or taking the dreaded school bus. 
Freedom!  The only problem was that the Rabbit had bucket seats in
front, so Luscious couldn't cuddle up next to me as we drove
somewhere.  The back seat was a little cramped, too, not that it
mattered much.  Kay and I were just fooling around a little.  She had
already made it quite clear that she wasn't about to give up her
virginity in the back seat of a rolling lovemobile, though she was
certainly open to considerable latitude when it came to other worldly
pleasures.  Yes, the Rabbit served us quite nicely.

Another big event among my friends came early in the spring, when
Jaimie and Jake came out as a couple.  Everybody at school already
knew about it, of course, but, with Prom coming up, they both decided
that it was past time for them to quit hiding their relationship from
their parents.  To that end, things were made much easier for them
inadvertently by Jaimie's younger sister, Tara.

Tara had always been the wild child of the neighborhood, a tomboyish
girl who wanted to play sports.  She loved playing basketball,
baseball, football, soccer, even hockey, but what she really excelled
at was running.  She could run faster than any other girl I knew of,
and was by far the fastest kid in junior high.  She might even have
been faster than Eric Johnson was when he was her age.  Now, 14 years
old and in eighth grade, she still was a fast runner.

And, from what I had heard from my younger brother Stephen, Tara was
getting pretty fast in other ways, too, having discovered the
pleasures of the flesh.  In fact, even her parents had heard or seen
some things, and were trying to intervene to head off her pattern of
behavior and experimentation.  The two sisters, meanwhile, were in a
stalemate.  Jaimie knew some things about Tara, which kept Tara's
mouth shut about Jaimie's involvement with Jake, around and around
and around.  After Mr. and Mrs. Jacks found out about some of Tara's
activities, however, their concern focused on Tara, and somehow
Jaimie's deceptions seemed pretty minor.  Once they found out about
it, when Jake and Jaimie went to them and told them about their plans
to attend Prom together, they reluctantly accepted the fact that the
two of them, next door neighbors, were dating.

One Saturday evening in April, Jaimie and Jake were sharing a booth
with us at Mike's Pizza.

"So, Tara's been acting up again, Jaimie?" I asked.  Stephen had
told me that Tara was known as the Blowjob Queen of Central Junior
High.

"I don't know what's going through the tiny brains of junior high
kids," Jaimie said disgustedly.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I try to talk to her and all, and she's like, 'All the kids are
doing it, it's no big deal.'  I'm trying to tell her that it is a big
deal, but she doesn't believe me."

"What, having sex and all?" asked Kayla.

"No, it's not like that," replied Jaimie.  "They're not having sex. 
I mean, they're not, like, screwing or anything, but they are
engaging in other sex acts.  But she doesn't think oral sex and stuff
is the same thing as sex.  It's just like it's something casual and
friendly, like a hug or something."

"Some hug," said Jake, waggling his eyebrows.

Jaimie slugged him in the arm, almost a reflexive action, and then
continued.  "She says that a lot of girls at her school treat it the
same way.  It's not just her giving a boy she knows some head, it's
mutual.  She even says that some girls even go down on other girls,
just so they can each get off.  It's not sex, it's just fun and
games."

"Wow.  It seems like it could be a pretty dangerous game," said Kayla.

"Yeah.  I just don't get it.  I mean, I would feel really strange
doing something like that with somebody I really didn't have any
feelings about, you know?  I mean, putting your mouth next to
somebody else's genitals seems a lot more... personal... than they
are considering."

Jake and I both laughed.  "Yes, it seems pretty personal, all
right," I agreed with a chuckle.  Luscious kicked me under the table
and gave me a quick look of warning.

"I agree with you," said Kayla after a moment.  "But these kids
don't see it the same way.  It's what, social instead of personal? 
Something like that, anyway.  I'm glad I'm not in junior high
anymore.  I just don't understand it."

"It's their method of birth control, maybe," suggested Jake.  "I
mean, if you're just engaging in oral sex, or even... um... mutual
masturbation, you're really staying, technically speaking, a virgin. 
It's a way of having the pleasure, and at the same time, escaping the
possibility of getting pregnant."

"Birth control?"  Jaimie was startled by the suggestion.  Her eyes
got wide as she looked at Jake, but I could see her concentration
shift inward as she considered what he was saying.  "Hmmm... maybe
that's true," she murmured, almost to herself.

"And there's still the worry about passing around diseases," said
Kayla.  "I mean, VD is still around, and, unless they lied during Sex
Ed, it can still be passed through oral contact."

"Hey, have you guys heard about this new disease they've been
reporting about lately?"  I had just remembered a news report I had
seen on TV.  "Something about a new gay disease, I forget what it's
called, but it shows up as odd, rare forms of cancers."

"A gay disease?"  Jake asked.  "Some kind of fudge-packer's cancer?"

"Ewww.  That's really gross," complained Jaimie, as she hit his
bicep again.

"I don't think they know how it's passed, but it seems to be most
common among gays, primarily in New York and London."

"Yes, I remember hearing about that," said Kayla.  "And now it's
showing up in Haiti, too, right?"

"Yeah, I think I heard that, too," I replied.

"Well, if it's a homo disease, so what?" asked Jake.

"Nothing," I said.  "Unless it's passed through homosexual oral sex.
I mean, how does a disease stay confined to a lifestyle like that? 
What's to keep it from spreading to girls, then?"

That wasn't a very pleasant thought for any of us.  We could only
hope that it stayed confined to the gay community, and that they
found a cure quickly.





Later that night, Kayla and I were sitting together, mostly naked in
the back seat of my car, catching our breath after an intense session
of touching and stroking each other to completion.  I had my arm
around her, and she was leaning on my shoulder, idly doodling with
the arrow of hair running from my belly button down to my pubic hair.

"You've never done that, have you, Sean?" she asked quietly.  "Been
casual about oral sex like Tara, I mean."

"No, of course not," I replied.

She lifted up and looked into my eyes.  "I'm not going to ask you
about your sex partners, Sean.  I know that you and Molly... had
sex... I mean, you guys fucked.  Right?"  I simply nodded, wary about
where she was going with this line of conversation.  "I don't care if
there's been anyone else you've... done anything... with," she
continued.  "I want you to know, Sean, that I..."

"Shhhh," I said, putting a finger to her lips.  "You don't have to
tell me anything, Kay."

She shook her head, and gently pushed my finger away from her.  "I
know.  You know that I've never... that I'm a virgin... at least,
technically."  She giggled a little embarrassedly, perhaps thinking,
as I was, that she certainly was an experienced virgin.  "And you
were the first boy I ever did... anything... with."  She put her head
back down on my shoulder, perhaps so she wouldn't have to look at me
while she confessed.  "But I also did a few... things... with
Brandon."

For some reason, my heart was trip-hammering in my chest.  "Oh?" I
said, trying to be nonchalant about this new information.

She looked up briefly, gauging my reaction, before resting her head
back down and continuing.  "Not much, really.  I... I did take him
into my... my mouth... a couple of times.  And I let him... touch
me... once or twice."

She sat up, facing straight ahead, looking out the front windshield,
but seeing something other than the trees and the starlight that was
all that was visible through the glass.  She crossed her arms beneath
her breasts, hugging herself as if she was cold.

"It was kind of like what Tara's doing, and that bothers me," she
whispered.  "It didn't mean anything.  We were friends, that's all. 
He knew I was in love with you, and I would drop him for you at a
moment's notice, but we did it anyway.  I mean, at the time I didn't
think of it as anything more than... I don't know, maybe using him to
experiment on?  Recreation?  But now, thinking back, I feel kind
of... slimy.  Dirty."  She shivered.

I put my arm around her and drew her back to me.  She resisted for
just a moment, and then allowed me to comfort her.

"It's okay, my luscious sweetheart," I crooned.  "It doesn't matter
to me at all.  Don't feel that way, Kay.  I did stuff, too, but I was
lost, and didn't know it.  Once I figured out it was you all along,
nothing else mattered."

She hiccupped just once, an effort to hold back a sob, and buried
her head against my chest, her arm holding my shoulder.  I could feel
her tears against my bare chest as I did my best to make her feel
better.

She was very introspective on the drive back to her house, and a
little distracted when she kissed me goodnight.  I really hoped this
didn't eat at her for very long.  She was too important to me, just
the way she was.  I had to convince her that I really didn't care
about her and Brandon.  I only cared about her and me.





I started working with Davey and Kip again early in April, and I had
called Coach Bill and let him know I would be glad to help out his
team again this season.  Davey was now 10 years old, and Kip was 9,
and their increased coordination and cognitive skills were becoming
more apparent, and more important.  I had to devise a bunch of new
drills to ramp up their skills, commensurate with their abilities. 
It helped to keep me sharp, too, watching how quickly they were
developing.

I never heard from Wendy about having Justin join us, like he did
the previous couple of seasons, and I asked Davey about it at our
first practice together.

"Justin moved away," he said.

"Oh, really?  Where did he move to?"

"Don't know.  Away.  I think far away."

"Oh."

"He said me and Kip could come and visit him some day, though," he
added helpfully.

"That's great," I said.

Some afternoons Eric would come along and help me with the boys, and
other days Trent would come over.  When either of them was there, we
would play an active game of 2-on-2, taking turns partnering with
each of the younger boys.  They quickly picked up on the hows and
whys of passing into open space, getting rid of the ball fast, and
moving from coverage into open field in anticipation.  Their ball
sense was getting to be very impressive, and I knew Coach Bill would
be anxious to take advantage of their new skills.

Once practice with the full team started, I found out about one of
the basic tenets of recreational sports, that of parity among teams. 
The Warriors only had four returning players from our old team.  The
rest were reassigned to other teams in the league, in an attempt to
even out the competition.  We had become such a powerhouse that it
was only fair that our team was broken up.  If it had been a
competitive or club team, we could have stayed together, but in a
recreational league, fair play ruled.  It was fine by both Bill and
me.  I had the feeling that, once the other kids saw how Davey and
Kip and the other two returning boys played the game, they would find
their own skills improving, and the Warriors would be a strong team
again.

We taught the newer kids the Warrior Warm-Up, and spent a lot of
time on drilling the discipline of zones and lanes into them.  We
used cornstarch to mark lanes on the practice field, varying the
width of the lane each time, but staying strict about the players
staying within their areas.  Once they had the lane concept down, we
expanded it by marking zones on the field.  Sometimes our cornstarch
markers were straight, sometimes they bulged in the middle, sometimes
the lines were narrower toward midfield than they were toward the
net.  We named these zones "even", "fat boy", and "funny funnel", so
Bill or I could change the dimension of one or all the zones or
lanes, just by calling out a new code name.

Another drill I tried with Davey and Kip worked so well that I
persuaded Bill to use it during practice.  After garbage day in our
neighborhood, I borrowed a couple of big garbage cans from neighbors,
washed them out, and took them with me to the field.  I set them up
about 15 meters from the sideline of the practice field.

"Okay, guys, here's what you have to do."  I stood next to them, my
own soccer ball on the line.  "You kick your ball in the air, and
into the garbage can.  Like this."  I kicked my ball, and it went
sailing over the cans.  Jorge, who was helping out with the keepers
again for us, ran it down and punted it back to me.

"See?" I said.  "It's not that easy.  Go ahead and try it."  I ran
down to help Jorge and Bill shag balls as all the boys on the team
let loose, aiming for one of the four garbage cans I had set up.

After about 10 minutes of yelling and laughing and trying to make a
basket, the drill started to disintegrate.  I stopped them for a
moment.

"Hold on, guys," I yelled, waving my arms to get their attention. 
Once they had stopped, I asked Bill and Jorge to move the cans
closer, so that they were about 10 meters away.

"If anybody gets the ball into a can on the fly, I will owe them a
pizza," I told them.  And off they went, trying to win a pizza. 
There were a lot of shots that hit a can, either on the fly or
bouncing into it, but nobody made it in.

"Have you ever made a basket this way, Sean?" asked Davey.

I grinned at him.  "Nope," I said.

"So it's impossible!" shouted Kip.

"No, I didn't say that, either," I said.  "I've tried it maybe a
couple of dozen times, but I haven't done it yet.  But I will, if I
take enough shots and work on being precise.  But that's not the
point.  The whole reason why we're even trying to do this is to get
more accurate in our passes and our shots.  You want the ball to fly
over somebody's head and hit the ground 10 meters away?  Just think
about trying to make a basket."

"Hey, good trick!" exclaimed Jorge.  He took a couple of steps and
kicked one of the team practice balls, and it arced up and hit the
rim of one of the garbage cans, nearly rattling in before the can
tipped over.

I very nearly owed him a pizza, and I knew he would have insisted I
pay up right then and there.





There were lots of other events that spring that Luscious and I
participated in, or attended.  Prom, for instance, was a lavish
affair, held in the ballroom of one of the fanciest hotels in the
city the first weekend of May.  It was pretty exciting to see
everybody get all dressed up, including Dr. Osgood, many of our
teachers, and even a few parents who chaperoned.

Kay and I went out to dinner with a big group before the dance. 
Twenty of us pretty much took over an entire room at Domenico's, an
Italian restaurant in Monticello, one of the many bedroom communities
surrounding the city.  Eric and Keisha, Trent and Danielle, Anthony
and Ayesha, Jake and Jaimie, Josh and Andrea, Tiny and Erica, Austin
and Tessa, joined us in a spaghetti extravaganza.  Also in attendance
was Jorge Mendoza and his date, Marissa Montoya, a junior who was on
the cheerleading squad, and Molly O'Toole, accompanied by Alex
Baumgartner, another member of the Junior Class.  Alex was tall, with
an unruly shock of bright red hair.  He was so smart he was almost
scary, and was generally considered the most likely kid in school to
discover something that would change the world.  Even with his grades
and his appearance, though, Alex had just enough street smarts that
he was able to avoid most accusations of geekiness.  He wasn't
popular, but he wasn't picked on, either.  Now, taking Molly to Prom,
his stock would rise considerably.  I wondered how they got hooked
up; Molly hadn't told me anything, other than they were going to Prom
together.  It was a mystery I was determined to solve.

Even though our school was considered to be a medium-sized school,
Junior-Senior Prom was only open to upperclassmen.  Freshmen and
Sophomores could only attend if they were invited by a Junior or
Senior.  So, without Jake, or Marissa, or me, our dates would not be
attending.

Not that it mattered at all.  I wouldn't be attending, either, if
Kayla wasn't allowed to be there, and I knew that Jake felt the same
way about his date.  All the same, I was glad we all could be
together for this night.

There actually were two separate events planned around Prom.  The
dance, in the Grand Ballroom of the hotel, was scheduled for the
evening, until 10:00 PM.  From there, buses were lined up to take
those participants who signed up for the second activity, which was
most of the kids, back to our home town.

The Parent-Teacher's Association, the organizers of Prom, had
arranged for a lock-in at our local YMCA, a supervised overnight that
took advantage of all that the Y had to offer.  The two swimming
pools were open and staffed with lifeguards, and so were the
racquetball and handball courts, basketball courts, and weight rooms.
There were also rooms set up with board games, and crafts rooms, all
supervised by teachers or parents.  They even arranged for several
classrooms to be used as quiet rooms, with dim lights and blankets on
the floors.  No hanky-panky was allowed, however, as these rooms were
constantly monitored by at least four adults each.  It sounded pretty
lame, but it was actually a lot of fun staying up all night and
goofing around with friends.  The fancy clothes were exchanged for
shorts and tee shirts, high heels were discarded in favor of
sneakers, and about 200 of us spent the night in youthful pursuit of
amusement.

The Junior-Senior Prom, even as big an event as it was, didn't
compare with the weekend that defined that spring and early summer
season of 1982 for us, however, an unforgettable weekend in early
June.




(Continued in Chapter 32)

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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