“Get your butts back into the dugout!” Coach Kingwood ordered as he dragged the two real combatants to the locker room.
After the game, he gathered us around him in the locker room.
“I’m not even going to discuss this game. Tomorrow you have a day off. I want you to all think about the last three games. When we get to international play, we’ll be facing teams better than we’ve faced so far. I don’t think any of us wants to be embarrassed in front of our families and the country we represent.
“Take your day off and get refocused. I want everyone back on Monday, ready to go. It looks like we should be at full strength by then, so no more excuses,” Coach Kingwood said.
“We’ll be fine; David will play,” Mitch, our second baseman, said.
That got a laugh out of everyone. Somehow it had just worked out that when I played, we won. I doubted I could’ve prevented the butt-kicking Houston gave us, but baseball players are a superstitious bunch. Coach Kingwood just embraced the coincidence.
“See, no need to worry,” he confirmed. “Dawson, in my office.”
I decided I should probably follow him instead of taking a shower first. Everyone gave me sheepish grins as I held my head high to face the music.
“Sit down,” he barked, and then shut the door.
“Team Royce?!?”
“It seemed like the right thing to do at the time,” I said to show I wasn’t sorry about it.
He rolled his eyes.
“I was totally Team Logan,” he said in his best valley girl impersonation. “It was all I could do to keep from laughing when you jumped over the fence and ran out onto the field. If the guys hadn’t bought into the whole ‘when David plays’ BS, I’d bench you for that little stunt.”
“Team Logan?” I asked.
“Get out of here and tell them I chewed your butt,” he ordered.
◊◊◊ Sunday August 7
At breakfast, everyone wanted to know what my plans were for the day.
“Football” was my one-word answer.
Turns out that high-level high school baseball athletes play football, and they’re pretty good. My three Lincoln teammates agreed that today was all about fun. We’d get serious about getting ready for the season during the upcoming week. I needed something pleasurable after being sick for several days.
There was a park down the street, so we walked over. I was impressed that Chuck showed up in shorts and a t-shirt like the rest of us. I couldn’t blame him. It was only 88 out right now. My phone weather app said it felt like 100. By late afternoon, it was going to get to 96. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
We found a large open area that had soccer goals at each end. This looked like a suitable place for us to play some football. Roc had carried the bag of balls I’d brought. He dumped them out so I could grab one and start tossing it around.
I must have shown too much because it was decided that to make it fair, I had to play a receiver position. They also put Roc, Yuri, and Phil on the other team. Chuck even agreed to play to help us fill out our team. He was still in decent shape, though he was getting old.
I did notice that my sweat stunk. I think all the poison left in my body was seeping out through my pores. When we decided we’d had enough, I was tired. It felt good to get in some physical activity after being bedridden for three straight days. Yesterday, I’d felt a little weak, but my appetite started to come back. Today, I began to feel like my old self.
“I’m starved,” I announced.
“I know a little Mexican place,” Yuri announced.
Silly boy. I wasn’t Pam, who he could outrun. I chased him all over the field, and we both knew I was toying with him. He yelped when I wrapped my arm around his waist and picked him up like a bag of dog food. Yuri just went limp, admitting defeat. So I carried him back and deposited him in front of everyone like I’d made a big kill and wanted to show it off.
“Are there any other suggestions?” I asked.
“I hear there’s a steak place with a salad bar next to the hotel,” Allard suggested.
“Good choice. Now, if everyone would have listened to me …” I started with an I-told-you-so grin.
◊◊◊
We returned to the hotel and took showers. I sent a text to Coach Kingwood to tell him our plans for a late lunch, and he sent one out to everyone. I was happy to see the whole team in the lobby when I came down. The upside was that if Coach was with us, he was buying.
When we showed up at the steakhouse, they sent us to the banquet room. I think they were worried we would be a little too rowdy and wanted to separate a large group of teenage boys from their regular patrons. We all ordered the salad bar with our steak, and we demolished it. I didn’t know about the rest of them, but I had several days of not eating to make up for. Coach Kingwood was duly impressed.
“Dear lord! I thought college boys ate a lot,” he observed, and then offered some advice. “Don’t fill up on salad and bread.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll figure out some way to choke my steak down,” I said, between shoveling bites of a variety of salad-bar foods into my mouth.
When the main course arrived, he just shook his head as we all ate our steaks and huge baked potatoes. I think we showed some restraint when we skipped dessert. We had to watch our figures, after all. Coach announced, after observing us, that he was sure we were all over the virus that had afflicted us. I was just glad it happened this week instead of when we were in the middle of international play.
After lunch, we were sent to a large metroplex theater where we watched an action movie. I was pleased to see Will Smith in it. It gave me hope that when I was his age, I could be made to look like I still had it.
◊◊◊
The afternoon was spent by the pool.
“Phil has a girlfriend,” Roc said in a singsong voice.
Next, he would be singing that they were kissing in a tree. Where was Zoe when we needed her? Then I grinned when my little brother flushed with embarrassment.
“Who are you dating?” I asked, playing dumb.
“No one,” Phil grumped.
“Everyone knows. You might as well admit it,” Yuri advised.
“Guys,” Phil whined.
Oh, my God! He was so not a Dawson. He’d just opened the door for them to torment him forever. I remembered my freshman year when the team had been taking showers after football practice. Magic had looked down at Luke.
“Is that a hickey on your dick?”
Luke had slapped his hand over his package as everyone pointed and laughed. I hadn’t been there when it happened, so two weeks later, Luke decided that I needed to be tormented. When he asked me the same question, I just looked down and grinned.
“It could be,” I’d said with a straight face.
Greg had taught me to own it if they made fun of me. Poor Luke had been made fun of for looking at my junk, and I was made out as a hero for getting a hickey on Mr. Happy. Clearly, Phil had much to learn, or he’d be the butt of their jokes. I guess it was up to me to teach him. He needed to learn to stand up for himself.
“What are you complaining about? She’s the hottest girl in the freshman class,” I said in his defense.
“But I’m not sure if we’re going out or not,” Phil explained.
“Give me your phone,” I ordered.
I’d seen him sneaking off to talk on it, and I suspected he was calling Jill. I scrolled through his call record, hit the number he called the most, and put it on speaker.
“Hey, Cutie,” Jill answered.
I gave him a look to keep him quiet.
“Hey,” I said, imitating Phil’s voice. “I have a question.”