After football practice, I drove to Tim’s house to hang out with him and Wolf. We were in the backyard, grilling hamburgers for dinner, when all our dads showed up.
“We need to have a serious discussion,” Tim’s dad, Conner, said.
“David, you watch the grill,” Dad told me, and the five of them found seats around the patio.
“What’s up, Dad?” Tim asked.
“Carol, Jared, and I have been contacted by a recruiter from Southwest Central State for the three of you to visit to their campus.”
“Why would we do that?” Wolf asked. “I know I’ve received a lot of mail from them, but I never even thought of them as a place I’d want to go to school.”
“I agree with Wolf. Are they even a Division I program?” Tim asked.
“They moved up to Division I in the spring and joined the Interstate Conference. I did some research and found they have a group of donors who want to turn them into a major football program. They recently signed a shoe deal with Springbok,” Dad explained.
“Again, why would we be interested?” Wolf asked.
“There was a suggestion that if you did, it would be worth your while,” Jared answered his son.
“Now we’re talking,” Wolf said with a big grin. “How much?”
Wolf’s humor needed some work because no one was smiling.
“Oh, come on, that was funny,” Wolf complained.
We just ignored him.
“We wanted you to be aware that as this heats up, there might be some inappropriate offers. If someone approaches you, please tell your dad,” Dad said.
“Dad, there was a girl at Wisconsin who wanted to have sex with me,” Tim said with a straight face.
“Next time, send them our dads’ way,” Wolf suggested.
We kids thought that was funny. Our dads? Not so much.
◊◊◊ Friday September 16
I slipped away from my security and took a drive in the Demon before the game. I found myself eating up the country roads outside of town. Thanks mostly to my modeling and acting, I’d gotten a chance to travel from Canada to the Caribbean and Japan to the UK. There are some gorgeous places, but driving through cornfields had its own unique beauty.
The sight of the sun streaming down on an ocean of corn plants as they gently moved in the breeze was relaxing. To be honest, I needed that right now. Only our sadistic athletic director would schedule Unity this early in the season. I was glad we hadn’t faced them in the opening game because I had no doubt we would have lost.
I let my mind wander as I pushed my car to its limits. The Demon was meant to run. The cornstalks along the side of the car almost became a blur. I raised my eye line, and the straight road went on for miles. It looked like one of those paintings where you saw the road disappear into the horizon.
I spotted a farm up ahead, so I slowed down. There was no need for an accident. I saw a farmer on his tractor give me a wave. That was something that seemed to be a trait of Midwesterners; they were a friendly group. I chuckled when I thought of the kind of wave I would get in New York. It would more than likely be the one-finger variety.
Then a random thought entered my head. In my English Literature class, we’d had a lively discussion about form versus substance. In the book we were reading, one of the characters who seemed to be totally clueless got promoted. I think we could all relate to someone being put in charge for reasons other than merit. I was probably guilty of that to some extent when I put Caryn in charge of my company. Granted, it had worked out, but there were probably other people more qualified.
That was when we got into the discussion of form versus substance. Mrs. Hedge used me as an example.
“David, say I found another guy, built like you, better looking,” (giggles all around), “and put him in your uniform and sent him out to quarterback the team. What would happen?”
“It’d be a disaster! No thought even needed on that one.”
She smiled at me.
“Why?”
Getting into it, I stated the obvious.
“He’s had no training, hasn’t practiced, his muscles are probably for show only and aren’t athlete’s muscles, he hasn’t worked with the guys, doesn’t know the plays. Like I said, he’d be a disaster.”
“So, all form and no substance,” she replied with a grin. “Maybe like the guy with a Harvard MBA who’s never done a lick of honest work in his life. He’s good on paper, but how good is he going to be in reality?”
“Now, think of a guy who makes some outstanding products, teaming up with a terrific marketing guy. Form or substance?” she asked.
Wolf raised his hand.
“The product would be both, I’d think. As to the two guys, I’d say one was substance and the other form.”
Tracy countered.
“No, the marketing guy is bringing marketing expertise to the table. I’d say both guys have substance, as long as they’re working together and one’s not using the other.”
Mrs. Hedge loved the interaction.
“But what if one guy is doing all the work and another guy is taking all the credit and getting all the benefit?”
“I’d think that would only go on as long as the guy doing all the work lets himself get used,” I replied. “If he gets tired of it and walks away, the other guy will implode soon after.”
Mrs. Hedge grinned.
“Can anyone summarize?”
“Well,” Tracy started, “I guess substance is more important, but sometimes it needs to be presented properly—it needs form.”
Tracy hesitated and then continued.
“Form without substance is like a flash in the pan. It doesn’t last long unless it has some substance to latch onto. Even then, it’ll only last as long as the substance is there to back it up.”
Mrs. Hedge nodded approvingly as the bell rang.
“I think that’s enough for today.”
Thinking about that farmer waving cheerfully as he was doing his work, I had a sudden understanding. Farming was substance. Hollywood was mostly form, even though there was substance there. Jessup worked hard at his craft and created a good product, but there were a lot of posers there, too. The trick was not to get used by them.
I realized some of what I did had form, like modeling and acting. But those professions also required substance to back them up. For example, always showing up on time and being ready to go, sticking to your poses, learning your lines, knowing camera angles and lighting, etc. Football, baseball, and grades, when it came down to it, were all about substance. You couldn’t do it if you didn’t put the work in, and you couldn’t do it well if you didn’t work at it hard and steadily. Friendship was like that, too, for that matter.
I hoped I’d always be a substance kind of guy. Yeah, form was important, especially for acting and modeling, but I hoped I’d still have the substance to back it up.
I smiled and looked around one more time at the fields I was driving through as I made my way home to get ready for the game.
◊◊◊
During the week, Coach Mason showed me video of Unity from both our State Championship game and last week when they creamed their first opponent. He walked me through my reads for Unity and pointed out some of the schemes they ran for our different offensive sets. They were quick, athletic, and swarmed to the ball. Typically, we would want to run right at them to help negate their speed. The problem was that last year and this, that was exactly what other teams had done and failed.
What made them different from other teams with speed was that they played with discipline. They weren’t fooled by trick plays or misdirection. Coach Mason had decided that if we ran our routes correctly, combined with our own speed, we would be fine.
What made me smile was that they’d had last week’s quarterback running for his life. When they got him out of his comfort zone, he’d made mistakes that turned what should have been a good game into a rout. In my case, it might be an excellent opportunity for Captain Chaos.