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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 2002, revisions c. 2007, R.C. Mather)

E-Mail all comments to RevCottonMather at hotmail dot com
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PLAYING THE GAME

A Novel

by R.C. Mather




- 20 -

SKIP AND THEO



I picked up the phone and dialed the number on the slip of paper. An
unfamiliar female voice at the other end answered after three rings.

"Hello? This is Sean Porter. I got a message to call this number
when I got home."

"Just a minute, Sean," the voice said. There was a thump as the
phone was set down on the other end.

"Hello, Sean?"

"This is Sean. Who is this?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's Coach Neville, Sean. I've been on the phone
with so many people tonight, I forget who I've talked to and who I
haven't."

"That's okay, Coach." I was puzzled. Why is Coach Neville trying to
contact me this late on a Saturday night? "What's up?"

"Sean, this is very hard." He paused for a moment. His voice sounded
gravelly. "There's been a terrible car accident. Skip and Theo..." He
paused again, perhaps to collect himself. My own heart was beating
like a triphammer, and my palms were suddenly sweaty. "Skip and Theo
were on their way to pick up their dates earlier tonight, when they
got into an accident. Another car was involved; Theo's car got pushed
off the road and into a tree..." His voice was rising in pitch, his
emotions raw. He stopped to take a deep breath. "Sean, Skip was
killed instantly, and Theo is in very serious condition at the
hospital."

"What?" My knees gave out, and I hit the floor with a thump. "What
did you say, Coach?"

"Skip is dead, son, and Theo is very badly hurt. I'm trying to
contact everybody on the team to let them know. I've talked to almost
everyone by now. I've been over to the hospital to meet with Theo's
family, and Skip's parents were there, also. It's all so unreal. I
don't think anyone realizes quite yet what's happened. Anyway, I've
already talked to the principal at school, and he is arranging to
have counselors available to anybody on Monday morning. I would like
you to get to school early on Monday if you can, and we'll meet as a
team, varsity and junior varsity, in the locker room for a few
minutes before school starts."

"Okay, Coach. Is there anything else I can do?"

"Not right now, Sean. Just pray, pray for Skip's family, pray for
Theo and his family. I'll be at the hospital as much as I can
tomorrow."

"I'll be there, too, as early as I can."

"Thanks, Sean. It's going to be a very sad week next week, I'm
afraid." With that, he hung up the phone. I sat on the floor, the
dead receiver forgotten in my hand, until the dial tone brought me
back to the here and now. I struggled to my feet, hanging up the
telephone, and turned to see my mother and father, and my brother
Mike, all looking at me, concern on their faces.

"We heard sirens earlier tonight. Is this something connected to
them?" My mom stood up and came over to wrap me in her arms.

I nodded, not sure if I could speak quite yet. My eyes were burning,
and my vision was blurred.

I sniffled a couple of times, and got myself under control. I let
them know what had happened, and about Coach's plan to meet early on
Monday morning. We sat up together, the four of us, for about an
hour, talking about the accident and how much our town was going to
be affected by the tragic news.

Finally, exhaustion set in, and I slowly found my way to my room and
shut the door. I needed a shower. I was hoping the hot water would
wash away the last hour, clean it up and present it again with better
news. I spent about twenty minutes standing there, just letting the
scalding water rush over me. The water started cooling as the water
heater ran out, so I finally turned the water off and stepped out to
dry off. I flopped into bed, the lights off, but it was many hours
before I finally drifted off into a troubled sleep.

I was feeling pretty awful when I got up in the morning. My sleep
was fitful and restless. I couldn't remember any of my dreams but
they left a bad aftertaste, a lingering sour discomfort. I wanted
more than anything to cancel soccer practice with Coach Bill's team,
but since I didn't have any of their phone numbers, I steeled myself
to go and do the best I could. I called Molly as early as I dared,
but their house was already up and aware of the bad news. Heather and
Evan had heard about it almost immediately. The two seniors ended up
at the hospital, where they stayed until the nursing staff finally
kicked them, and about half the rest of the senior class, out. She
had come home shortly after I had dropped Molly off and awakened the
family to give them the news.

Molly said she would call Tessa, and the two of them would meet me
at the park. My brother Mike dropped me off at the park with my gear
about fifteen minutes early, saying he would pick me up after 
practice.

The girls got there a few minutes later.  While we were waiting for
the team to show up, Coach Bill explained to us the drills he wanted
to work on today. It was hard to pay attention to him, as distracted
as the three of us were on that Sunday morning.

The boys on the team started straggling in to the park. Some of them
walked, parents dropped others off. Lori came with Davey and Kip and
immediately walked over to me and wrapped me up in a warm hug.

"I heard about the accident," she said. "I'm so sorry, Sean."

"Thanks," I said, "but I'm not sure I should be the one to be
accepting condolences."

She kept on holding me tightly, as if the sheer strength of her arms
could hold off the relentless stroke of the clock.

"I'm sure," she said. "Just because you aren't a blood relation to
those boys doesn't mean you aren't hurting right now. They were
friends and teammates, and anybody that close is suffering."

"Maybe you're right," I said, and I hugged her back. I did
appreciate her concern.

We set the boys up in a four-way criss-cross passing pattern around
one of the netless goals in the park. There was a line of four boys
at each goalpost, and two lines about twelve meters out and ten
meters apart. The balls were kept at the posts and passed across to
one of the boys outside, who would trap it, pass it over to the other
boy in the other outside line. That player would take the pass,
dribble two steps, and take a shot on goal. There were three boys on
the team who divided up the goalkeeping duties for the team, and each
of the three took a turn in goal, with Tessa there the whole time to
give them tips on how to prevent the score. There was mass confusion
to start with, and the outside lines tended to drift closer together,
but with Molly, Tessa, and I coaxing them on, the drill started to
run smoothly. The boys were kept moving from position to position,
sometimes passing and sometimes shooting. 

When that drill started to wear down, we set up a drill known as
World Cup. We divided the team into groups of three, with one keeper.
There were sixteen players, so it worked out well for five teams. We
threw out four balls, and the five teams scrambled for a ball. The
object of this drill was to practice moving into open space, and
communicating with teammates. Any team that scored a goal came off
the field, and the remaining teams restarted with one less ball,
until there finally there were just two teams left, battling after
one ball.

By the end of practice, the boys were sweaty and puffing from the
drill, and feeling pretty good about how they had performed in the
World Cup drill. Before Coach Bill let them go, he talked to them for
a few minutes about what we had worked on that day. I hoped the
lessons would carry through to their next game day.

Michael picked us up after practice, and we dropped Tessa and Molly
off at their houses before going home. I wanted to take a shower and
get something to eat before I went to the hospital to see Theo.

That afternoon, my dad willingly gave up his NFL jones to drive
Molly and me to visit Theo. He waited in the lobby the whole
afternoon while we waited our turn to go in and see Theo. The waiting
area was milling with teammates and school friends of Skip and Theo,
the boys standing around trying to be stoic and strong, and the girls
weeping and hanging onto each other for support. It was no surprise
to me that Maggie, Skip's girlfriend, was not there, but I did notice
that Allison, the girl hanging on Theo's arm at the pool party, also
did not make an appearance.

When it was finally our turn to go into Theo's room, we found that
it was nearly as crowded as the waiting room. His parents, brother,
two sisters, grandparents, and Coach Neville were all there,
surrounding the bed. Theo was in a drug-induced coma, tubes running
everywhere, scary machines crowding the walls. He was in traction and
had multiple internal injuries. Coach whispered to me that the long-
term prognosis was favorable, but they didn't know if he would ever
run again until they could bring him out of the coma and get going on
his physical therapy. Theo looked so small and frail there, and Coach
was sunk in on himself, keeping going by sheer willpower. I felt
nearly as badly for him as I did for Theo's family.

Later that evening, we finally left the hospital. Dad drove us
slowly past the spot where the accident occurred. There were long
skid marks on the road, and the tree they had hit was badly scarred.
There were dozens of flowers and candles, tributes to Skip and
prayers for Theo, scattered around the tree. It gave the area a look
of peace and tranquility, a far cry from its reputation from that day
forward.

By the time I got home, I was completely wiped. I barely had the
energy to undress before I crawled between my sheets and fell almost
immediately into a dreamless slumber. The start of one of the
toughest weeks of my life was just ahead.





Continued in Chapter 21)


  
PTG20