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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 
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   (Copyright 2005, revisions c. 2007, R.C. Mather)

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THE COMPETITIVE EDGE:
PLAYING THE GAME III

A Novel

by R.C. Mather



- 43 -

PREPARATIONS



Kayla and I had made a connection over the holidays, but it was much
weaker than I would have liked. Still, it was a connection. By the
time I got back to school, I was determined to keep up my writing
campaign. I didn't want her to forget me.

Lightspeed came over to my apartment the first week back, pulling up
on a big Japanese motorcycle. He took off his helmet and shook his
head, letting his long hair fly around and rearrange itself however
it wanted. Spencer and I were on the front steps, enjoying a beer. It
was cool out, cool enough for sweatshirts, but Lightspeed still had
on his baggy California shorts.

"Yo, dude, isn't it a little chilly to be riding around like that?"
asked Spencer with a smile.

Lightspeed came sauntering up to us. He deftly caught the can of
beer Spencer tossed to him. He popped it open. It began to foam all
over, but he didn't care. He tilted it up and drank, slurping up the
foam. He drank about half the can, sighed, and perched on the railing
beside us.

"It's cold, but it stops," he said finally.

"It stops?"

He smiled. "It's like hitting yourself on the head with a hammer,"
he replied. "It feels so good when you stop."

"Doesn't sound like much fun to me," I said. "Did you ride that
thing all the way from California?"

"Righteous," he said. "Followed Route 66 into Oklahoma, and then
kept moving south and east. Outasight trip."

Spencer sat up. "Really, dude? Let's see if I can do it backwards.
Hmmm... San Bernardino, Barstow, Kingman, don't forget Winona,
Flagstaff Arizona, Gallup New Mexico, Amarillo..."

"Oklahoma City is mighty pretty," they both sang. They laughed and
shook hands.

"Thirty thousand people on this campus, and I team up with the only
ones who can sing "Route 66" backwards," I grumbled.

"It could be worse," said Spencer.

"How?"

"You might still be rooming with Westy."

"Good point." I turned to Lightspeed. "It's a long time on a bike,"
I said.

Lightspeed smiled. "Think of it as a long time in the saddle," he
said. "Hey, you wanna go for a ride?"

"Too cold," said Spencer.

"Pussy," accused Lightspeed. "How about you, Boss? Wind in your
hair, freedom of the open road, all that bullshit?"

I looked at his bike. It was tempting. I loved riding around in
convertibles, and this looked to feel even more liberating. I started
to get up, but then I remembered a promise I had made, a promise that
Lori McMasters, Lori Wilkinson, had extracted from me in a fit of
grief over her lost husband.

'It was a long time ago,' I said to myself in a classic case of
rationalizing.

'Don't delude yourself, Self,' I fired back in my mind. 'Perhaps it 
was rash, maybe you were young, and nobody would probably care even if
they did find out, but it was still a promise.'

'Come on, let's go for it!' said the adventurous Sean, the one I
increasingly thought of as the Sean with the pitchfork and the horned
tail.

I sat back down. "Can't," I said.

"How come?" asked Lightspeed, clearly surprised.

I shook my head. "I made a promise a long time ago to a good friend
of mine," I said. "As much as I'd like to, I won't break that
promise."

I saw Lightspeed think about it. He shrugged and dismissed it,
reaching instead into our cooler for another beer. Out of the corner
of my eye, I noticed Spencer surreptitiously studying me. I was a
little uncomfortable with his examination, but the little devilish
Sean had disappeared in a self-righteous poof of smoke, and I felt
quite at ease with my decision.

"Good on you," said Harlan, and I saw Spencer nod once. He reached
in and grabbed two more beers. He opened them both, and silently
handed one of them to me.



* * * * * * * * * *



We had about five weeks before the spring clinics began. During that
time, Pick put on his dog-and-pony show for any of his prospects who
were still undecided. Among those was the defender from Texas, Rico
Montenegro. Pick was pinning a lot of his hopes for the future on
this kid, and he pulled out all the stops for Rico's campus visit.

Pick and Stan Harvard met Rico, along with his father, at the
airport, and ushered them into the offices. Jesse, Lightspeed,
Spencer, and I were waiting for them, per Pick's instructions. After
the introductions, we sat around a conference table.

Pick said, "This here is your opportunity to ask us anything, Rico.
These players are the core of what make the Gators a great team.
Jesse here is graduating, but as you can see, we still got quite a
cupful of talent to carry on with."

If Rico was intimidated by being the outsider at the table, he
didn't show it. He started out boldly by addressing Jesse.

"I've watched the tapes Coach Cropper sent to me. It's an unusual
system you got here. You won't be here next year. Will it still work?
Who's going to be the scoring power for the offense?"

Jesse leaned forward. "Our system was implemented by Sean Porter.
It'll work because he makes it work. The scoring will come from the
system. It doesn't depend on one player. Even though I was the
leading scorer, it could just as well have been Lightfine, or
Goldman, or even Porter. We tap into the strengths on the field, and
the game flows from that."

Rico nodded. "I could see that." He glanced at me, and then
continued talking with Jesse. "What you going to do next year? You
going to be an assistant here, maybe?"

Jesse smiled. "I don't know where I'll be next year," he said. "But
I'll be a Gator, no matter where I am."

"I get that," said Rico. He turned to Spencer. "I seen the tapes of
your finals in Illinois. You could be a great scorer, you moved up."

Spencer shrugged. "I like midfield. But I still have plenty of
chances at the net. Actually, you will, too. Want to be the highest-
scoring defender in the conference? This is the place to accomplish
it."

Rico looked a little startled. We finally managed to say something
he hadn't anticipated. He hadn't expected to be surprised by
anything, but Spencer's statement obviously piqued his interest.
"Really? They keep statistics like that?"

"Sure," said Spencer, pleased to be able to shake the kid. "You know
who it was this year?"

Rico looked at me. "Let me guess," he said.

I didn't say anything. Spencer chuckled. "It's his system. Who
better to use it to advantage?"

Everybody else faded from existence, as far as Rico was concerned.
"How did you come up with it?" he asked.

"It just made sense to me," I said. "When I explained the concept to
everybody, we all revised it until it seemed to be able to work for
us. It's been a work-in-progress ever since."

"It makes sense to me, too, but nobody at home could see how it
worked. You talk to each other a lot on the field, obviously."

"Of course. You can't play as a team otherwise."

"Yeah, well, I seen a lot of teams that didn't talk."

"But your team did, right?"

He shrugged. "Usually," he said.

"And you won because of it."

He gestured with his hand. "A lot of the time, I guess we did."

"And when you didn't win, those were the games somebody was in a bad
mood or something, and the communication broke down. Right?"

"Well... yeah."

"It's all in the communication."

"Okay. But on some of the plays on the tapes, it seems like you all
move without anybody saying anything."

I grinned. "Which schools are you still looking at?"

He looked at me quizzically, wondering at the change in the subject.
"Texas, Houston, Arizona. Why?"

"I just wanted to make sure there weren't any SEC teams on your list."

"Ah," he said admiringly. "Because you guys got a secret."

"Hand signals," I said. "We change them every few games, so teams
don't catch on to what they mean, but that's how we can send messages
anywhere on the field without letting the other team know what we're
up to."

Rico grinned. "Smart," he said.

"Credit Jesse and Bryan with that one," I said. "They're the ones
who came up with the idea."

I could see in his eyes he was impressed. The rest of the
conversation opened up to the table, but Rico was careful not to make
any statements implying a commitment to anywhere. He was a smart kid,
and he was working the advantage the best he could.

Mr. Montenegro and Pick got into a whispered conversation and
stepped over to the corner.

"Let's go get a soda," I suggested.

The five of us got up, and Jesse led the way to the machine outside
the locker room. I got a bunch of quarters from Eunice and began
feeding them into the machine. When we each had a can, we stood
around for a moment. I leaned against the wall and took a long drink.

"You're a talented player, Rico," I said. "And you had a good team
around you. You could go off to some school and be the star, but
unless you've got talent with you on the field, you can only carry
your team so far."

Rico didn't say anything, but he watched and listened. Spencer and
Lightspeed were standing on one side, and Jesse was opposite them,
bracketing Rico and me.

"One great player can carry a high school team pretty far, but
Division One is a different animal altogether."

"You ever been to Texas?" asked Rico.

I shook my head.

"High school sports in Texas is a different animal, too. 'Specially
football and soccer."

"And cheerleading," said Lightspeed. We all looked at him. "Well, it
is," he said, a little defensively. "Shit, don't you guys read the
paper? Murder-for-hire, parents from hell, it's all there in Texas."

Rico smiled. "He's right," he said. "It's a tough world out there in
the Lone Star State."

"All the more reason to have some good friends around you who can
keep up," I said. "You're right, it's a tough world out there. But
teammates make it better."

Jesse nodded. Rico saw it, and he slowly nodded, too.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Teammates make it better."

By the time Rico and his dad got on the plane to go back home two
days later, Pick had his signed letter of intent. The Gators had
another high school All-American wrapped up, and the other SEC
schools were probably gnashing their teeth. Spencer and I had spent
as much time with Rico as we could, even taking him along to a couple
of classes so he could get a feel for college life. His father was
content to let us monopolize Rico's time, and it helped us to get to
know him better. Rico gave the impression he was a hard and brash
guy, but it was really just a facade. Behind the confident exterior
he was just another teenaged kid, half scared out of his mind about
his future, just like the rest of us. The biggest thing was he Got
It, got what we were trying to accomplish as a team. He was another
integral piece of our puzzle, and he would work with Lightspeed,
Sugar, Spencer, and me to create what I hoped would be something very
special.



* * * * * * * * * *



I still spent a lot of time with Erin and Alex, but our flirtations
subsided. They seemed to be respecting my desire to see my plan
through to the conclusion, for good or ill. We went out to the
Warehouse to see some local bands occasionally on the weekends. A lot
of the time we were in a big group from school, and I danced with
Erin, or Alex, or one of a half-dozen other girls who happened to be
along at one time or another. No three-way kisses, no groping each
other on the dance floor - well, to be honest, no more groping with
Alex or Erin than with anybody else. We were college kids, after all.

I may have sinned in my mind, and my hand certainly got a workout
most nights, but I kept as true to my goal as I possibly could. It
was hard. It was very hard.

And there was another little nagging thought that insinuated itself
into my consciousness at times, especially when I was feeling
introspective or doubtful. It had to do with Kayla's Christmas gift,
which I kept in a prominent place in my room, on the top of my
bookshelf next to my desk.

I had it faced backwards, though, because I wanted to look at her
inscription every day.



"To My First Love"



Not "To My One and Only Love," or "To My True Love." The implications
worked on me, like little dogs working over a rawhide bone.

Of course I couldn't expect Kayla to remain dateless all this time.
Lord knew I certainly didn't. Seeing this as an indication of her
personal growth beyond Sean Porter was difficult, though. Who was her
second love? Was there a third? Where did I stand in relation to her
subsequent lovers? Were there subsequent lovers? Or was this all just
a payback, one of several I deserved? Somehow, the thought of Kayla
twisting the knife just didn't seem to be right, but then I had been
wrong before. 'Am I wrong this time, too?'

On the good days I saw it in a different perspective, considering
that perhaps there wasn't a second meaning to her inscription. Maybe
she was just trying to tell me she cared for me in a special way. She
was honoring our past, and hoping for our future. On those days, I
remembered my Luscious, backlit by the dim light of a doorway,
innocent and desirable, making me ache with longing.

I was in turmoil, but there was nothing I could do about it. Soon it
would all be made clear. 

I hoped.



* * * * * * * * * *



Jesse, Frenchy, and the other seniors were excused from the spring
clinics. They had enough on their plates without being lame-duck
members of the team. It wasn't until our first full-team clinic that
it hit me: my playing days with my biggest supporter and one of my
best friends were over. He was still going to run clinics during the
coming summer back in his hometown, but we wouldn't ever play
competitively on the same team again. It was a shock.

Pick had to look constantly a couple of years ahead, though, and he
had his bases well covered. The addition of Sugar and Chris Bolden,
along with Lightspeed, helped, and knowing Montenegro was coming
helped to solidify our defensive side. If Pick was worried about
shoring up our offense, he didn't show it. If he wasn't worried, I
saw no need to obsess over it. Instead, I kicked back and enjoyed the
clinics season.

We were at Ole Miss for a series of clinics one weekend in early
March. Jesse came with us, and he brought his gear bag.

"You're missing the action already?" asked Luke as Jesse passed by
him in the aisle of the bus.

Jesse smiled. "Yeah, that's it," he replied. "I just couldn't stay
away from the smell of sweaty jerseys."

He flopped down in the seat next to me. I knew why he was coming
along, even if most of the others didn't. He had several interviews
and tryouts scheduled, since so many teams were going to be at the
clinics.

"You going to play in on some of the clinics?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Depends on how much time I have. I wouldn't mind."

"Gotta stay sharp," I said.

He nodded. "Working on some ideas, too."

It made me smile. "Anything you want to share?"

He shook his head and laughed. "Maybe you'll see them this summer."

"Do I detect a clinic challenge?"

He sat up straighter. "Hey, that's not a bad idea," he said. "You
could run a little mini-tournament for the Midwest clinics over a
weekend. Let everybody see how everybody else is doing."

I thought about it for a minute. "That is a good idea. Let me run it
by Dani and Keisha. I'm meeting with them in a couple of weeks to go
over the summer schedules. I'll see if there's room. And time."

Eric and his Maryland team were also attending the Ole Miss clinic.
After we got to town and checked into our hotel, I called him up and
asked him to meet me. We got together in a little cafe just off
campus, and I ran the idea past him.

"Logistics, man. It'll be tough getting it organized in time for
this summer. It can be done, but we might be better off putting it on
the schedule for the next summer."

"I bet we could use the school fields," I said. "It's really a
matter of convincing the parents to make the trip. We could do a
giant graduation that way, instead of me doing the Great Midwest Tour
by car."

Eric smiled. "And this year won't be any better, from what Keisha's
telling me."

I groaned. "Worse for me," I said. "Rec and competitive clinics in
South Bend, Merrillville, Hobart, Gary, Valparaiso, and Lafayette,
coaching clinics there and in Kankakee and Peoria, and ref clinics
along with four more locations added at home."

"You gonna need a jet before too long, Boss."

"Don't get too cocky, dude. You gotta come with me to train the
instructors at all those places."

I had the pleasure of watching Eric's face fall. "Shit, that's a lot
of traveling," he said.

"It's all okay. Trent will be with us, and Jesse will meet us at
some of them. We'll just trade off driving."

"It'll be what it'll be," he said.

"Hey," I said, "I read in "Soccer Today" that your coach resigned.
What's up with your team?"

Eric chuckled. "Yeah, he resigned, all right. If his letter of
resignation didn't land with a loud thud on the AD's desk by the time
we got back from Georgia, his ass was going to be fricasseed. Dawson
gave him an opportunity to save face, and he was smart enough to take
it."

"Dawson?"

"Iron Mike Dawson. Our Athletic Director."

"Iron Mike? Must have been a football player."

Eric smiled. "Tight end. Any tight end named Mike got to be called
Iron Mike, don't he?"

"Because of Number Eighty-Nine," I agreed.

"Yup. The best there was."

"Dawson was on the sidelines during the tournament, wasn't he?"

"Yeah. You saw him? Big guy? Arms like Popeye?"

"Yup. He was watching our conversation with... what were their names?"

"Danny and Chase," said Eric. "Yeah, he was standing there with
Coach Russo."

"Your assistant coach."

Eric grinned broadly. "And now the head coach."

I smiled, too. "Well, how about that. Good things come to those with
patience."

"Alan Russo wants to incorporate as much of the Porter System as the
team can handle. That's one of the reasons why we're here. We spying
on you, Boss."

"Ah, hell, I'm giving it away today. You know as well as I do, we're
not hiding anything. Anybody who wants to do better can do what we
do."

Eric studied me, an enigmatic grin on his face. "You make it sound
so simple, and yet it's one of the hardest lessons to learn for the
average grunt out there. You do know that, don't you?"

I thought about it for a moment. 'Is it really that hard to learn? It
seemed so natural to me, to Spencer, to Jesse. And yet Eric Johnson,
a persuasive guy when he wanted to be, had trouble getting his team
to see the advantages. Trent got it, but he didn't even try to get
his team to adopt the system. He was playing out his career according
to what his team wanted, instead of what they needed. Is that really
the difference?'

"Huh," I said. "I never thought of it that way. Maybe you're right.
Maybe I'm oversimplifying it."

"Nah, it ain't that," he said. "You know you got a gift. Maybe it's
that gift that prevents you from seeing how special it really is."

"That doesn't make any sense, dude."

Eric just shrugged. "It don't always have to make sense."

"Yeah," I said with a sigh. "You're right about that."



* * * * * * * * * *



Danielle and Keisha had their spring breaks the week before mine.
They drove down with their friends to spend the week at Daytona.
Spencer and I drove over to meet with them for a day to get caught up
on Porter Enterprises.

They were staying six girls to a motel room, so we met them at a
pancake house off the highway. We took over one of their big, round
tables and spread out our papers. We ordered big breakfasts, and told
the waitress to not spare the coffee.

"How come you're not staying with Eric?" I asked Keisha.

She smiled devilishly. "This is a girly week," she said, slipping
Dani a quick glance. "He coming down with some of his friends, too."

'Is Danielle actually blushing? They must really have some wild
plans,' I thought to myself.

"Let me guess," I said. "You're going to try to run across each
other on the beach and pretend you're just meeting for a spring break
fling?"

Danielle got even redder, and even Keisha's face turned a darker
shade. She favored me with a huge smile, but didn't say anything.

"And what about you, little miss?" I asked Danielle. I just couldn't
resist making her squirm a little.

"I'm just along for the ride," she said. She tried to sound
convincing, but nobody at that table bought it, which made her blush
a deeper crimson.

"Mmmm... hmmm," I said. I picked up my coffee cup and stared at her
as I took a sip.

"Oh, you are just awful," she said as she looked down at her empty
plate and fiddled with her silverware.

Danielle had lost weight over the winter. She looked good. She would
never be considered a beauty, but she had a presence about her that
transcended her looks. She was one of the nicest and smartest people
I knew, and I felt kind of bad about teasing her. Behind her
embarrassment, though, I thought she might have been enjoying the
guilty pleasure.

"So, tell me what we've got," I said. I piled my plates to the side
and put a yellow pad of paper in front of me.

Danielle smiled. "Okay. You already know about the additional
locations. Four more in the suburbs, the northern Indiana additions,
Kankakee and Peoria. On top of that, I've already asked sixteen more
AYSO organizations to wait a year."

"Sixteen! Holy shit!"

"And, at home, we're out of room again."

"No, I've got the contract for the school fields. We're okay at home."

Keisha laughed throatily. "All those classes are full as of right
now, and there's a waiting list of about fifty. You could add a whole
series of clinics if you had more fields available, besides the park
and the school."

I ran my hands through my hair, my elbows propped on the tabletop.
"Out of room already? And we haven't even run the school sessions
yet..."

Danielle's face was serious. She leaned in to make sure I was paying
attention. "You've got to recruit a lot of instructors for this year,
Sean. And you're going to double or triple in size again next year if
this keeps going the way it has."

"Jesse and I can work our contacts back home," said Spencer. "We
should be able to come up with enough qualified instructors."

"Wait a minute... let me think here for a minute..." Something Dr.
Osgood had mentioned to me over Christmas was nagging at me. 'Let it
go,' I told myself. 'It'll come to you.'

"There's one more thing," said Danielle.

I groaned. "Hit me," I said.

Dani glanced at Keisha. "This has gotten too big for us to do
offhandedly, the way we've been doing it," she said. "Even with
Keisha, it's growing bigger than we can handle during school. If you
are going to continue to operate Porter Enterprises, I think it's
time you set up an office and hired a full-time person."

I sat back. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I stared
off in the distance. "Full time? An office?"

This time both Danielle and Keisha laughed. "It's not a run-by-the-
seat-of-your-pants little business anymore, Sean Porter of Sean
Porter Enterprises," said Keisha. "You are a by-God businessman now."

"Shit, I'm only twenty," I said in astonishment. "I'm too young to
be a businessman. Hell, I only own one suit. How can I be a
businessman?"

Everybody laughed at me. "Yours isn't a suit and tie business,
dude," said Spencer. "Yours is, quite literally, a sweat equity
business. A business built on sweat."

We talked more about the business, but I was pretty much in a daze.
I was thinking about all we had to do in a very short amount of time.
We needed to find and train an entirely new generation of
instructors. I needed to refine the areas of responsibility and
assign key people to each area. I had to pay them well for the work
they had already done, and the work they would be doing, and I had to
make sure my time was well organized.

Sweat equity. That was an intriguing thought. I could offer my key
employees, Danielle and Trent and Eric and Jesse and a couple of
others, stock in the company. They could be owners, along with me. I
made a note to talk with my business professors about the advantages
and disadvantages of vesting key employees with ownership. I also
needed to talk again with a lawyer. I would ask Mr. Lehigh to get me
an appointment.

Suddenly it hit me. Theo Jameson! Dr. Osgood had told me Theo was
graduating from Northern. He would have great contacts throughout our
area for recruiting instructors. I had to talk to him as soon as I
could. He might be a good choice for supervising all the instructors
for Porter Enterprises.

So little time, so much to do!



* * * * * * * * * *


Time was getting away from me. Before I knew it, finals were
looming. I felt like my business was in disarray, though I knew
Danielle and Keisha were on top of things. I had called and written
to Theo, and he agreed to work with us through the summer as my head
of instructors. My senior instructors would still be used to dealing
directly with me, but it would be Theo's responsibility to set the
organization of instructors everywhere Porter Enterprises was
operating. He would accompany Eric, Trent, and me on our recruiting
and training trips, and he would choose all the supervising
instructors and direct them in their duties.

I worked on a chart of organization, and faxed revisions back and
forth to Keisha and Danielle until we were all comfortable with it.
We charted into the future as much as we could, so we could see where
we needed to focus our energies. It helped us to understand the
pressures of such rapid growth in a new and untested business.

I met with one of my business professors, Dr. Mel Sanford, and he
gave me a preview of a couple of my future classes by helping me
develop some simple spreadsheets and pro formas. They really helped
me understand the path I was on, and he agreed to continue to be my
advisor. When I showed him the growth from the first year to the
second, and then the continued patterns evidenced by the signups for
the coming season, he helped me to evaluate the distribution of
assets, both money and personnel, to achieve the growth I was
anticipating. My meetings with him were a huge help, getting me to
focus on each problem individually instead of seeing the whole thing
as a conglomeration of issues.

This also helped me get ready for finals. I had always approached
finals week with trepidation, looking at all the work that had to be
done to get ready. Dr. Sanford showed me that if I concentrated on
one test at a time, instead of seeing the entire week as a huge and
nearly insurmountable challenge, I could break it down into smaller,
individual problems that were easier to solve.

It got me through the week without a mental breakdown. In fact, I
even managed to pack my car a day ahead of time. I wanted to be ready
to leave town as soon as my last test was over, on Thursday morning.

After all, I had a date with an angel.





(Continued in Chapter 44)


  
CE43