By Valor and Arms.
By Valor and Arms.
Chapter Ten: Family Ties
The tension in the room was palpable as Leanne would alternate between calming down her middle son and her husband, both of which seesawed from an idling rage to all out screaming.
"He can take his ass down there!" James Sr. was unmoved by the duffel bag that was at Joshua's feet, "I'm sick of fighting his ass, they can have him!"
Elijah had been sent to his room a few times, only to return as a witness to all of the madness as it raged on into the early hours of Saturday morning. The two oldest, Pearl and James, watched on from the sidelines as well. Earlier on, they had been active participants, trying to reason with both sides but the argument had worn them down.
The killing of Jacoby Smalls outside of a Super 6 when police officer Arthur Weisbecker mistook him for a suspect was no longer a quiet whisper as Joshua's support group's protest had shaken the town, targeting Arthur's son and star football player Michael Weisbecker. They had to be physically removed from blocking entrance to the bus, both by police officers and members of the East Side coaching staff, including James Sr. who wrestled his son away.
With hundreds of students nearby, videos of the incident quickly made it to the internet and eventually the local late night news rundown. While the intent of the protest was initially lost on many at the scene, including the majority of East Side's coaching staff and all of its players outside of Michael, it didn't take too long with their screaming of Jacoby's name for the dots to be connected by the media.
"It could have been me!" Joshua kept repeating to his father, "It could have been any of us!"
"Your ass wouldn't have been down there," James Sr. gathered his breath, "And if your ass was down there, you would have had it coming. Ain't nothing good happening down there, just looking for trouble."
"Baby," Leanne pleaded with her husband, "Let's just all go to sleep, we're not going to solve anything tonight."
"You shed tears for Trayvon," Joshua directed at his father, "He don't deserve the same?"
"Now, hold on. That's different," James Sr. stuttered.
"How is it any fucking different?!" Joshua screamed at the top of his lungs.
"It just is," James Sr. stammered through, "I don't got to explain shit to you, boy!"
"Because he's gay?" Joshua pressed him, "Stop being a fucking bitch and just say it!"
Making his best read of the night, James quickly got up to his feet from sitting down on the couch and sprinted across the living room to intercept James Sr's attempted lunge. With the turning of his hips, James was able to use his father's weight against him, causing him to tumble down to the floor. James Sr.'s attempt only angered Joshua, who was now coming forward with both men severely outweighing James.
Luckily for James, his mother's screams stopped both of them in their tracks just as James Sr. was getting back to his feet.
"That's enough! That's enough!"
They both huffed and puffed, now just a feet away from each other with only James in between them which any of them could easily have thrown to the side. Pearl was still sitting by the kitchen counter with her hands covering her mouth. They had all witnessed Joshua's anger and rage, especially in the months leading to and after his coming out, but her father had always been a gentle giant in her eyes. Even at practices that she and her mother attended, James Sr. would go out of his way to limit his usual outbursts as a coach. He had never struck them as children, leaving the rearing and disciplining of kids to Leanne if it required anything more than a stern look.
"James, take your brother to your room. He's staying with you tonight," Leanne took over, "Elijah, get your butt in my bed and go to sleep like I've told you a hundred times. You can have your old room, Pearl, and I'll drive you back tomorrow."
Without a room assigned to him, James Sr. got the hint and grabbed his keys, exiting through the front door.
The tension in the room was palpable as Leanne would alternate between calming down her middle son and her husband, both of which seesawed from an idling rage to all out screaming.
"He can take his ass down there!" James Sr. was unmoved by the duffel bag that was at Joshua's feet, "I'm sick of fighting his ass, they can have him!"
Elijah had been sent to his room a few times, only to return as a witness to all of the madness as it raged on into the early hours of Saturday morning. The two oldest, Pearl and James, watched on from the sidelines as well. Earlier on, they had been active participants, trying to reason with both sides but the argument had worn them down.
The killing of Jacoby Smalls outside of a Super 6 when police officer Arthur Weisbecker mistook him for a suspect was no longer a quiet whisper as Joshua's support group's protest had shaken the town, targeting Arthur's son and star football player Michael Weisbecker. They had to be physically removed from blocking entrance to the bus, both by police officers and members of the East Side coaching staff, including James Sr. who wrestled his son away.
With hundreds of students nearby, videos of the incident quickly made it to the internet and eventually the local late night news rundown. While the intent of the protest was initially lost on many at the scene, including the majority of East Side's coaching staff and all of its players outside of Michael, it didn't take too long with their screaming of Jacoby's name for the dots to be connected by the media.
"It could have been me!" Joshua kept repeating to his father, "It could have been any of us!"
"Your ass wouldn't have been down there," James Sr. gathered his breath, "And if your ass was down there, you would have had it coming. Ain't nothing good happening down there, just looking for trouble."
"Baby," Leanne pleaded with her husband, "Let's just all go to sleep, we're not going to solve anything tonight."
"You shed tears for Trayvon," Joshua directed at his father, "He don't deserve the same?"
"Now, hold on. That's different," James Sr. stuttered.
"How is it any fucking different?!" Joshua screamed at the top of his lungs.
"It just is," James Sr. stammered through, "I don't got to explain shit to you, boy!"
"Because he's gay?" Joshua pressed him, "Stop being a fucking bitch and just say it!"
Making his best read of the night, James quickly got up to his feet from sitting down on the couch and sprinted across the living room to intercept James Sr's attempted lunge. With the turning of his hips, James was able to use his father's weight against him, causing him to tumble down to the floor. James Sr.'s attempt only angered Joshua, who was now coming forward with both men severely outweighing James.
Luckily for James, his mother's screams stopped both of them in their tracks just as James Sr. was getting back to his feet.
"That's enough! That's enough!"
They both huffed and puffed, now just a feet away from each other with only James in between them which any of them could easily have thrown to the side. Pearl was still sitting by the kitchen counter with her hands covering her mouth. They had all witnessed Joshua's anger and rage, especially in the months leading to and after his coming out, but her father had always been a gentle giant in her eyes. Even at practices that she and her mother attended, James Sr. would go out of his way to limit his usual outbursts as a coach. He had never struck them as children, leaving the rearing and disciplining of kids to Leanne if it required anything more than a stern look.
"James, take your brother to your room. He's staying with you tonight," Leanne took over, "Elijah, get your butt in my bed and go to sleep like I've told you a hundred times. You can have your old room, Pearl, and I'll drive you back tomorrow."
Without a room assigned to him, James Sr. got the hint and grabbed his keys, exiting through the front door.
By Valor and Arms.
Chapter Eleven: Ignobile, Juvenile and Unimaginative
If James Sr. had thought that his second family would be more warm and welcoming, he was sadly mistaken. He returned to campus on Sunday for an emergency team meeting to find a locker room fractured, divided and eventually emptied out as players began walking out following his speech that suggested they should support Michael during his time of need.
"Coach on some bullshit," Devon didn't hold his tongue as the players had dispersed into the courtyard that separated the rest of school grounds from the athletic facilities.
James awkwardly continued to walk among the bevy of players that shared similar sentiments. On the heels of Trayvon Martin, a Black teenager who was fatally shot by George Zimmerman after an unclear altercation with Zimmerman, Jacoby's shooting re-opened wounds that had not been fully healed, especially for the young people of Cleveland whose calluses had not yet been developed.
"Mike didn't even say anything," added Geo, "That's how you know his ass knows his dad killed that boy for no reason."
"I would have stole off on him if he showed up today," Devon sucked his teeth, "I know that's y'all boy but it's up for him."
"It ain't nothing," Jarvis didn't hesitate to turn on his long time friend, "That was some sucker shit."
"I know it's not my place," Craig sheepishly joined the conversation, "But I'm with you, Geo."
James felt as if the world was watching him, waiting for him to say something. He was the de facto leader of the team on account of being the team's starting quarterback, the coaches' son and Michael's closest friend on the team outside of Craig and Jarvis, both of whom had already separated themselves from him.
"He didn't even tell you?" Devon poignantly asked James, bringing him to the center of attention.
James shook his head, "I don't think he told anybody."
"We gotta do something," Chris jumped in, "Everybody gonna be looking at us like we on the wrong side of this shit because of Mike."
"He's gone," Devon dapped Chris up, "You better believe that, you might as well tell your daddy right now we ain't playing if Mike out there."
...
"But I didn't do anything," Michael's voice cracked as he held his hands up, "I was just trying to not distract the team, I don't even know what really happened so its not like I even have anything to hide."
The six-foot-five, 225-pound tight end sounded like a child as he tried to address the team leaders only to be shouted down every time. James Sr. tried his best to keep control of the situation but it was going from bad to worse by the minute. At every turn, he had misjudged the crisis from his tenor during the Sunday team meeting, not addressing it on Monday which led to a distracted and non-productive practice and then by Tuesday, Michael had returned to school to an adamant Devon that nearly struck him during their second period class together.
It was now Wednesday and instead of practicing, the rest of the team was waiting in the locker room while the team leaders -- Devon, Jarvis, Amari, Alex and James -- met with Michael to help determine if he'd be allowed back on the team. James Sr. had hoped that the situation would resolve itself, either with the team getting over it or Michael deciding not to play but the senior tight end was steadfast on getting back on the field as scholarship opportunities awaited him.
"You don't want to be judged by the color of your skin," Michael continued to make his case, "I don't want to be judged by what my dad may or may not have done."
"Fuck your daddy," Devon spat at him.
James sunk into his chair as Michael was continuously digging his own grave in front of a jury that had already turned in their guilty plea. The most vocal guys were Devon and Amari who were the defensive captains that had no real relationship with Michael given that he was on the other side of the ball. Alex, the team's senior running back, was in an awkward position as the only other white guy in the room and therefore deferred to the others. Jarvis had softened his tone over the course of the week and was accepting of Michael's apology for not telling the team but suggested that it should be a team wide vote, not just the leaders, that should decide on the matter.
And then there was James, who would have preferred to not be included in the meeting at all and therefore kept his thoughts to himself.
"It's a dead nigga in the street," Amari spoke harshly, "I know that don't mean nothing to you but that could have been me, Dev, Jarvis, James, any of us. You know who it never is? It's never you, it's never Alex, it's never Craig, it's never none of y'all, it's always us."
"I think we all have heard enough," Coach Snoop stepped in as James Sr. continued to press his index and middle finger against his temple in frustration, "We appreciate you coming in, Mike. Just go hang out in the locker room, man, we'll come get you after we're done."
"You might as well go home," Devon scoffed.
It proved to be the straw that broke the camel's back as James Sr. was now fuming.
"All of y'all head to the locker room," he angrily got up, "We got fucking practice, I'm sick of this shit."
They all looked at each other with confused looks on their faces, including the coaches.
"What about the vote?" Jarvis finally asked.
"Ain't no fucking vote," James Sr. swung the door open and looked back at the players, "If y'all don't want to fucking play, don't fucking play. Go fucking suit up, Mike, I know your ass wanna play."
...
"You're not playing, right?"
Anabelle's question lingered in the air, prompting her to ask it again, this time with an accusatory tone.
"You're not going to play, are you?"
"I don't know," James shrugged, knowing all too well the decision had been made seventeen years prior.
"We've been talking about some sort of a walkout," she continued, "Like right when the game starts, the entire student section just walks out so you guys could do something like that. Act like you're going to play and then just don't or walk out or something."
It was Thursday night but it had felt like it was a lifetime ago when the story first broke for James as it had weighed on him, turning minutes into hours and days into weeks. Wednesday's practice had barely any participants, mainly the underclassmen with Jarvis, James, Alex, and Thien as the only starters out there along with Michael. Attendance improved for Thursday's walk-through with most of the offensive starters returning but much of the defense continued to hold out, including Devon and Amari.
Ever the forceful leader, Devon sent a mass text to the team formally asking for a boycott of Friday's game which he then posted on social media just as James was on his way to Anabelle's weekly rehearsal. It was an effective strategy for his cause as several players that had been at practice on Thursday, including Jarvis and Alex, retweeting the post. By making it public, it put the Black players in focus and forced them to pick the right side or potentially be labelled a coon or a sellout.
"It's not that easy," James tried to explain to her, "Like for y'all it's just another Friday night but we only get so many of these to get on film and try to get a scholarship or something."
"You don't even care about that stuff. You're just doing it for your dad," she scoffed, "I know he's your dad but come on, Devon's right. If the only thing they care about y'all is how fast you can run, take that away from them."
"What the fuck does not playing accomplish? It's not going to fix racism."
"If everybody said that about every single protest, we'd still be slaves."
"Here y'all go again," James had grown tired of the slave analogies that were rampant throughout the week and particularly prevalent in Devon's posts, "He's about to go to college for free but yeah, he's a slave."
"I can't believe you're saying this," she argued as they sat on the porch outside of the church.
"I can't believe you're saying this," he flipped it on her, "You know Mike, this shit's not on him."
"He enabled it, though."
"Now you're just repeating buzzwords," James dismissed her, "I don't even know if I'm going to play but can everybody just chill the fuck out?"
If James Sr. had thought that his second family would be more warm and welcoming, he was sadly mistaken. He returned to campus on Sunday for an emergency team meeting to find a locker room fractured, divided and eventually emptied out as players began walking out following his speech that suggested they should support Michael during his time of need.
"Coach on some bullshit," Devon didn't hold his tongue as the players had dispersed into the courtyard that separated the rest of school grounds from the athletic facilities.
James awkwardly continued to walk among the bevy of players that shared similar sentiments. On the heels of Trayvon Martin, a Black teenager who was fatally shot by George Zimmerman after an unclear altercation with Zimmerman, Jacoby's shooting re-opened wounds that had not been fully healed, especially for the young people of Cleveland whose calluses had not yet been developed.
"Mike didn't even say anything," added Geo, "That's how you know his ass knows his dad killed that boy for no reason."
"I would have stole off on him if he showed up today," Devon sucked his teeth, "I know that's y'all boy but it's up for him."
"It ain't nothing," Jarvis didn't hesitate to turn on his long time friend, "That was some sucker shit."
"I know it's not my place," Craig sheepishly joined the conversation, "But I'm with you, Geo."
James felt as if the world was watching him, waiting for him to say something. He was the de facto leader of the team on account of being the team's starting quarterback, the coaches' son and Michael's closest friend on the team outside of Craig and Jarvis, both of whom had already separated themselves from him.
"He didn't even tell you?" Devon poignantly asked James, bringing him to the center of attention.
James shook his head, "I don't think he told anybody."
"We gotta do something," Chris jumped in, "Everybody gonna be looking at us like we on the wrong side of this shit because of Mike."
"He's gone," Devon dapped Chris up, "You better believe that, you might as well tell your daddy right now we ain't playing if Mike out there."
...
"But I didn't do anything," Michael's voice cracked as he held his hands up, "I was just trying to not distract the team, I don't even know what really happened so its not like I even have anything to hide."
The six-foot-five, 225-pound tight end sounded like a child as he tried to address the team leaders only to be shouted down every time. James Sr. tried his best to keep control of the situation but it was going from bad to worse by the minute. At every turn, he had misjudged the crisis from his tenor during the Sunday team meeting, not addressing it on Monday which led to a distracted and non-productive practice and then by Tuesday, Michael had returned to school to an adamant Devon that nearly struck him during their second period class together.
It was now Wednesday and instead of practicing, the rest of the team was waiting in the locker room while the team leaders -- Devon, Jarvis, Amari, Alex and James -- met with Michael to help determine if he'd be allowed back on the team. James Sr. had hoped that the situation would resolve itself, either with the team getting over it or Michael deciding not to play but the senior tight end was steadfast on getting back on the field as scholarship opportunities awaited him.
"You don't want to be judged by the color of your skin," Michael continued to make his case, "I don't want to be judged by what my dad may or may not have done."
"Fuck your daddy," Devon spat at him.
James sunk into his chair as Michael was continuously digging his own grave in front of a jury that had already turned in their guilty plea. The most vocal guys were Devon and Amari who were the defensive captains that had no real relationship with Michael given that he was on the other side of the ball. Alex, the team's senior running back, was in an awkward position as the only other white guy in the room and therefore deferred to the others. Jarvis had softened his tone over the course of the week and was accepting of Michael's apology for not telling the team but suggested that it should be a team wide vote, not just the leaders, that should decide on the matter.
And then there was James, who would have preferred to not be included in the meeting at all and therefore kept his thoughts to himself.
"It's a dead nigga in the street," Amari spoke harshly, "I know that don't mean nothing to you but that could have been me, Dev, Jarvis, James, any of us. You know who it never is? It's never you, it's never Alex, it's never Craig, it's never none of y'all, it's always us."
"I think we all have heard enough," Coach Snoop stepped in as James Sr. continued to press his index and middle finger against his temple in frustration, "We appreciate you coming in, Mike. Just go hang out in the locker room, man, we'll come get you after we're done."
"You might as well go home," Devon scoffed.
It proved to be the straw that broke the camel's back as James Sr. was now fuming.
"All of y'all head to the locker room," he angrily got up, "We got fucking practice, I'm sick of this shit."
They all looked at each other with confused looks on their faces, including the coaches.
"What about the vote?" Jarvis finally asked.
"Ain't no fucking vote," James Sr. swung the door open and looked back at the players, "If y'all don't want to fucking play, don't fucking play. Go fucking suit up, Mike, I know your ass wanna play."
...
"You're not playing, right?"
Anabelle's question lingered in the air, prompting her to ask it again, this time with an accusatory tone.
"You're not going to play, are you?"
"I don't know," James shrugged, knowing all too well the decision had been made seventeen years prior.
"We've been talking about some sort of a walkout," she continued, "Like right when the game starts, the entire student section just walks out so you guys could do something like that. Act like you're going to play and then just don't or walk out or something."
It was Thursday night but it had felt like it was a lifetime ago when the story first broke for James as it had weighed on him, turning minutes into hours and days into weeks. Wednesday's practice had barely any participants, mainly the underclassmen with Jarvis, James, Alex, and Thien as the only starters out there along with Michael. Attendance improved for Thursday's walk-through with most of the offensive starters returning but much of the defense continued to hold out, including Devon and Amari.
Ever the forceful leader, Devon sent a mass text to the team formally asking for a boycott of Friday's game which he then posted on social media just as James was on his way to Anabelle's weekly rehearsal. It was an effective strategy for his cause as several players that had been at practice on Thursday, including Jarvis and Alex, retweeting the post. By making it public, it put the Black players in focus and forced them to pick the right side or potentially be labelled a coon or a sellout.
"It's not that easy," James tried to explain to her, "Like for y'all it's just another Friday night but we only get so many of these to get on film and try to get a scholarship or something."
"You don't even care about that stuff. You're just doing it for your dad," she scoffed, "I know he's your dad but come on, Devon's right. If the only thing they care about y'all is how fast you can run, take that away from them."
"What the fuck does not playing accomplish? It's not going to fix racism."
"If everybody said that about every single protest, we'd still be slaves."
"Here y'all go again," James had grown tired of the slave analogies that were rampant throughout the week and particularly prevalent in Devon's posts, "He's about to go to college for free but yeah, he's a slave."
"I can't believe you're saying this," she argued as they sat on the porch outside of the church.
"I can't believe you're saying this," he flipped it on her, "You know Mike, this shit's not on him."
"He enabled it, though."
"Now you're just repeating buzzwords," James dismissed her, "I don't even know if I'm going to play but can everybody just chill the fuck out?"
-
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- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
By Valor and Arms.
Ahhh, such clarity in these last two updates. You can tell these characters are kids ![drose :drose:](./images/smilies/Dead.png)
![drose :drose:](./images/smilies/Dead.png)
By Valor and Arms.
Chapter Twelve: Volunteer Army
Every time the locker room doors swung open, James couldn't help but extend his neck to take a peak around the corner. He waited for the likes of Devon, Amari and Jarvis but they never came. Instead it was freshman after freshman with a few starters sprinkled in. Even going up against the winless Leland Cubs, it felt like an exercise in futility to go out there without a single real practice and half of the team.
Inside of the coaches office, James Sr. didn't seem to have a worry in the world as the clock continued to wind toward their appointed time to get on the bus. He was fortunate enough that the mutiny did not extend to the coaching staff, although much of the younger staff members agreed with the players that Michael probably shouldn't be playing or some sort of official statement should be made by the team. This was Cleveland, Mississippi and if James Earl Little Sr. was king -- and that he was -- the football team was the sword that he wields.
Growing up in the Deep South, football had always been an escape for James Sr. and he wanted to keep it that way. It wasn't the theater for political statements or acts of grandeur, it was where boys and men came collectivity to work as a unit. It would be the anthesis of the very thing he had dedicated his life to to jettison a player not because of his play or even his own character but because of outside factors.
He was a football coach, a damn good one and that's what he was going to do on Friday night, hell or high water. He was also fairly confident that when it came to nut cutting time, he'd have his army of foot soldiers, whether they wanted to be there or not.
James Sr's confidence began spreading to the rest of the team and coaching staff as the likes of Devon, Amari and Jarvis all came through that door. Some feign excitement while others kept their head and eyes low, checking in before making the shameful walk back to their locker to suit up.
Their youthful exuberance had been quelled by the harsh realities of life and responsibilities as their station in life was ultimately provided by what they did between those white lines, not as agents of change. One by one, they all got calls from the various college football coaching staffs that had expressed interest in them at the next level, impressing upon them that while they were sympathetic to the cause, they were recruiting football players and not activists.
James felt the need to say something to help unite the team but the words never came to him. Instead, he just went around the locker room dapping guys up as they got ready to suit up to play a game they had no interest in.
"Let's get it," James meekly approached Devon, who he had purposefully saved for last.
"Yeah," the usually spirited safety said without vigor, "Let's just get this shit over with, man."
...
As James went through his warm up on the field, he would occasional glance towards the stands where the student section was littered with red, the color of the shirt that Jacoby was wearing at the time of his shooting. It had become a hot topic of debate with the police report and Arthur's testimony mentioned that the suspect the officers were responding to at the Super 6 was noted as wearing a red colored shirt. However, the dispatch audio was subsequently leaked in which there were no mentions of any descriptive qualities of the suspect.
James was quickly able to spot Anabelle in the stands and she too was wearing a red colored shirt. He tried to find his brother Joshua but couldn't, at least not from where he was standing. Before he could give it any more thought, he was interrupted by his father.
"Just another game," his father assured him, "Love you, boy."
...
Throwing away the natural progression of the play call, James immediately zeroed in on Michael and delivered the ball to him in the flats in an effort to get him going. Any disillusion on James' part that the solidarity during the pre-game would be the end of it were quickly dispelled as boos came raining down as soon as Michael touched the ball and turned up field.
If they were bothering him, he showed no signs as he picked up the first down, tossed the ball to the official and hustled back to the huddle.
"All game," James gave him a fist bump as he reached back to the huddle.
...
After the defense had taken away the earlier opportunity which forced James to settle for tossing the touchdown to another receiver, James purposely locked down on Michael during the entire route as the tight end crossed the defender's face, giving himself an opening which James took.
The boos were as loud as they had been all night as Michael celebrated with a subdued touchdown signal before being joined by James who jumped up and slapped him on the helmet.
"I got your back," James reminded his long-time friend, "All game, baby."
...
"Leland desperately needs a stop here because their offense has gotten them back into this game to make it 21-14. It's another completion to Michael Weisbecker who gets the first down for the Trojans. There's some pushing and shoving going on down there."
...
"Fuck you, bitch!"
"Bitch ass nigga!"
"We're going to get your ass, pussy!"
Michael tried to break away from the fracas but everywhere he went, he would bump into a defender in white jersey that had decided that enough was enough. They had no answers for the agile and versatile big bodied tight end that was eating up their secondary and linebackers alike. If their cause wasn't going to be successful on the football field, they'd resort to a more noble one.
James jogged on over to the area where it was happening as it continued to escalate with Michael starting to push them back. It didn't take long for the fracas to turn into a brawl with both teams coming onto the field for some pushing and shoving, although no punches were thrown.
James Sr. was finally able to pull Michael away and placed him on the sidelines along with a few agitators on the Trojans that had come to their teammate's defense.
"Let's get back to football!" James Sr. yelled to his team.
"Get a fucking huddle going," James told Jarvis, trying to regain control of the situation.
"Huddle!" screamed the center at the top of his lungs which drew a chuckle from James and the others, lightning the mood.
"Let's light up their ass," James said brashly, "Up top."
...
"Little hands it off, no, it's a fake, he still has it....throws it deep and....is he in? Yes! Yes! Yes! Touchdown!"
...
"I don't know," Michael kept picking at his fries, "It's not like there is a manual for how to deal with this shit, I just didn't know how to react or what to do or what to say, any of it. It was just so fucking much and so much shit happening like fuck."
"I get you," James nodded as they sat in the McDonald's parking lot in Michael's blue pickup truck.
"Do I just come in and say 'hey, my dad shot someone?' I didn't know what to do, if I knew everyone was going to be so upset...I don't know, I don't know what I could have done. I also didn't want to tell you and put you in an awkward position of like not being able to tell everyone or whatever, I don't know."
Michael had yammered on for much of the night after their game while James just sat there, quietly nodding along as he let his friend vent. He had spent so much of the past week worrying and stressing about how to react to everything that was happening around him that he never stopped and thought about what Michael himself was going through. As stressful as it was for James, it must have been a hundred fold for him.
"It'll work out," James told Michael, not because he believed it or anything but simply because what else was there for him to say?
"Everything is just fucked up," he sighed.
Every time the locker room doors swung open, James couldn't help but extend his neck to take a peak around the corner. He waited for the likes of Devon, Amari and Jarvis but they never came. Instead it was freshman after freshman with a few starters sprinkled in. Even going up against the winless Leland Cubs, it felt like an exercise in futility to go out there without a single real practice and half of the team.
Inside of the coaches office, James Sr. didn't seem to have a worry in the world as the clock continued to wind toward their appointed time to get on the bus. He was fortunate enough that the mutiny did not extend to the coaching staff, although much of the younger staff members agreed with the players that Michael probably shouldn't be playing or some sort of official statement should be made by the team. This was Cleveland, Mississippi and if James Earl Little Sr. was king -- and that he was -- the football team was the sword that he wields.
Growing up in the Deep South, football had always been an escape for James Sr. and he wanted to keep it that way. It wasn't the theater for political statements or acts of grandeur, it was where boys and men came collectivity to work as a unit. It would be the anthesis of the very thing he had dedicated his life to to jettison a player not because of his play or even his own character but because of outside factors.
He was a football coach, a damn good one and that's what he was going to do on Friday night, hell or high water. He was also fairly confident that when it came to nut cutting time, he'd have his army of foot soldiers, whether they wanted to be there or not.
James Sr's confidence began spreading to the rest of the team and coaching staff as the likes of Devon, Amari and Jarvis all came through that door. Some feign excitement while others kept their head and eyes low, checking in before making the shameful walk back to their locker to suit up.
Their youthful exuberance had been quelled by the harsh realities of life and responsibilities as their station in life was ultimately provided by what they did between those white lines, not as agents of change. One by one, they all got calls from the various college football coaching staffs that had expressed interest in them at the next level, impressing upon them that while they were sympathetic to the cause, they were recruiting football players and not activists.
James felt the need to say something to help unite the team but the words never came to him. Instead, he just went around the locker room dapping guys up as they got ready to suit up to play a game they had no interest in.
"Let's get it," James meekly approached Devon, who he had purposefully saved for last.
"Yeah," the usually spirited safety said without vigor, "Let's just get this shit over with, man."
...
As James went through his warm up on the field, he would occasional glance towards the stands where the student section was littered with red, the color of the shirt that Jacoby was wearing at the time of his shooting. It had become a hot topic of debate with the police report and Arthur's testimony mentioned that the suspect the officers were responding to at the Super 6 was noted as wearing a red colored shirt. However, the dispatch audio was subsequently leaked in which there were no mentions of any descriptive qualities of the suspect.
James was quickly able to spot Anabelle in the stands and she too was wearing a red colored shirt. He tried to find his brother Joshua but couldn't, at least not from where he was standing. Before he could give it any more thought, he was interrupted by his father.
"Just another game," his father assured him, "Love you, boy."
...
Throwing away the natural progression of the play call, James immediately zeroed in on Michael and delivered the ball to him in the flats in an effort to get him going. Any disillusion on James' part that the solidarity during the pre-game would be the end of it were quickly dispelled as boos came raining down as soon as Michael touched the ball and turned up field.
If they were bothering him, he showed no signs as he picked up the first down, tossed the ball to the official and hustled back to the huddle.
"All game," James gave him a fist bump as he reached back to the huddle.
...
After the defense had taken away the earlier opportunity which forced James to settle for tossing the touchdown to another receiver, James purposely locked down on Michael during the entire route as the tight end crossed the defender's face, giving himself an opening which James took.
The boos were as loud as they had been all night as Michael celebrated with a subdued touchdown signal before being joined by James who jumped up and slapped him on the helmet.
"I got your back," James reminded his long-time friend, "All game, baby."
...
"Leland desperately needs a stop here because their offense has gotten them back into this game to make it 21-14. It's another completion to Michael Weisbecker who gets the first down for the Trojans. There's some pushing and shoving going on down there."
...
"Fuck you, bitch!"
"Bitch ass nigga!"
"We're going to get your ass, pussy!"
Michael tried to break away from the fracas but everywhere he went, he would bump into a defender in white jersey that had decided that enough was enough. They had no answers for the agile and versatile big bodied tight end that was eating up their secondary and linebackers alike. If their cause wasn't going to be successful on the football field, they'd resort to a more noble one.
James jogged on over to the area where it was happening as it continued to escalate with Michael starting to push them back. It didn't take long for the fracas to turn into a brawl with both teams coming onto the field for some pushing and shoving, although no punches were thrown.
James Sr. was finally able to pull Michael away and placed him on the sidelines along with a few agitators on the Trojans that had come to their teammate's defense.
"Let's get back to football!" James Sr. yelled to his team.
"Get a fucking huddle going," James told Jarvis, trying to regain control of the situation.
"Huddle!" screamed the center at the top of his lungs which drew a chuckle from James and the others, lightning the mood.
"Let's light up their ass," James said brashly, "Up top."
...
"Little hands it off, no, it's a fake, he still has it....throws it deep and....is he in? Yes! Yes! Yes! Touchdown!"
...
"I don't know," Michael kept picking at his fries, "It's not like there is a manual for how to deal with this shit, I just didn't know how to react or what to do or what to say, any of it. It was just so fucking much and so much shit happening like fuck."
"I get you," James nodded as they sat in the McDonald's parking lot in Michael's blue pickup truck.
"Do I just come in and say 'hey, my dad shot someone?' I didn't know what to do, if I knew everyone was going to be so upset...I don't know, I don't know what I could have done. I also didn't want to tell you and put you in an awkward position of like not being able to tell everyone or whatever, I don't know."
Michael had yammered on for much of the night after their game while James just sat there, quietly nodding along as he let his friend vent. He had spent so much of the past week worrying and stressing about how to react to everything that was happening around him that he never stopped and thought about what Michael himself was going through. As stressful as it was for James, it must have been a hundred fold for him.
"It'll work out," James told Michael, not because he believed it or anything but simply because what else was there for him to say?
"Everything is just fucked up," he sighed.
...
...
...
Last edited by Soapy on 25 Sep 2023, 11:29, edited 1 time in total.
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- Posts: 2225
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
By Valor and Arms.
Sometimes you just gotta ball. Good game, brodie.
By Valor and Arms.
Chapter Thirteen: All for Naught
Since they had began dating, it had been the longest time they had gone without seeing each other as James patiently waited to see her curly hair bouncing on her shoulders as she came down the porch steps.
Needless to be said, the Saturday night tradition on the diamond had gone by the wayside since the shooting so all parties involved stayed home that night, at least James did. He wasn't quite sure about Anabelle's whereabouts given the radio silence since Friday night. James' naivete led him to believe that once the game was over with, things would return to relative norm within the locker room, at school and in his relationship but as he stood in front of the porch waiting for someone that never came, he realized the error in his ways.
Plugging his earbuds in, he started his walk to school and used the opportunity as a way to clear his head. Seven weeks in, the grind of a season was starting to take a toll on James both physically and mentally as the thought of another install meeting with Coach Harrison was just as daunting as the countless hits he'd have to endure before the end of the season.
"You were really good on Friday," someone interrupted James' trek as he approached the school, eager to congratulate their starting quarterback.
"Thanks," he blanked on her name once more, a bit embarrassed this time. He looked through her towards the crowd of kids that were outside the school gates, meandering around as they delayed the inevitable. He tried to spot Anabelle as that was typically where she'd be waiting for him on the off-chance that they hadn't walked to school together but she was nowhere to be found.
He contemplated texting her but was soon interrupted.
"It's Jasmine," she laughed as she playfully punched James in the arm, "I hope that wasn't your throwing shoulder."
"It's not," he forced a chuckle, "You'll be alright although don't do it again, my linemen might be watching."
"Those are the guys that block," she said proudly, "I've been trying to like actually learn and know that the hell it is I'm watching."
"I thought your brother played?"
"You remembered!" she lit up, "But no, I mean, I went to a few games but I never bothered to learn anything."
"It's pretty simple once you get the hang of it," he was slightly distracted as he looked down at his phone but was dissapointed to find nothing. He finally pulled the trigger and texted her as he resumed his trek to his first period only to find Jasmine still by his side.
"When did you start playing?"
"I don't know, when I was born. The first team I actually remember being on was probably like five or six but there's pictures of me playing from before that, I just don't remember any of it."
"That's insane," she shook her head, "My parents didn't let my brother play until he was in high school with all of the head stuff and everything."
"I've actually never had a concussion," he mentioned, "I don't know, I think some of that stuff is overblown."
"You don't know that you've had a concussion," she corrected him, "That seems impossible with how much hitting you guys do. If I were to run full speed and just drop to the ground a few times, I'm sure as shit gonna be fucked up."
"We have helmets," he laughed as he was amused by her comparison, "It's definitely not for everybody."
"Are you calling me a punk ass bitch? Or a soft ass bitch?"
James was taken by surprise.
"I'm just kidding," she assured him with a smile, "I was just imitating how you guys talk to each other. I'm surprised y'all don't fight more."
"You clearly haven't met my dad," he explained to her, "If anyone throws a punch, the whole team gets punished for it and I'm not just talking running. Gassers, stairs, up downs, crab walk, anything you can think of, he thought of something worse."
"Is it worth it?"
"Punching someone? Fuck no."
"No," she scoffed, "Doing all of that to just play a game."
"I guess," he shrugged, although inside he had always been looking forward to being just a student.
The conversation had carried them to the courtyard where James' search for Anabelle was once again unsuccessful. Instead, his eyes landed on a teammate, Thien, who hurried over to him.
"Coach is looking for you," the junior receiver told James before redirecting his attention to the petite freshman next to him, "Hey, you're a trainer right?
She simply nodded before turning to James, "I guess I'll see you later."
"My dad?" James asked Thien as they started walking towards the locker room.
"Coach Harrison," Thien informed him, "I think someone's in there to see you."
...
"You pretty much stole our playbook," Coach Brown laughed as James continued to erase the whiteboard.
"If it works, it works. I wasn't about to rewrite the Bible," Coach Harrison shrugged off his former college teammate.
Neal Brown was a teammate of Coach Harrison's at Kentucky before transferring to UMass for his final two seasons. He began his coaching career there shortly after before finding his way down south at Troy as an offensive coordinator and eventually Texas Tech where the Red Raiders were in need of a signal caller for their 2013 recruiting class.
"What's your favorite concept?" Coach Brown asked James.
"I like Shallow," James quickly answered.
"He loves Shallow," Coach Harrison remarked with a smile.
"Any sort of crossing concepts really," James added.
Coach Brown sized up James who didn't impress him physically but his work on the board had as he was quickly able to draw up plays from memory that the team had ran. The Red Raiders were undefeated thanks in large part to the play of another physically unimpressive quarterback in Seth Doege whose quick decision making had turned him into one of college football's most prolific passers.
"We'd love to get you up there," Coach Brown started gathering his things as he had an extensive itinerary for the day, "I'm a straight shooter so we want you, we'd love for you to come by for a visit and we're officially offering you to be the next great quarterback at Texas Tech."
...
James' mind couldn't be further away as Mrs. Rojas lecture continued to go on deaf ears. He was a decent student by comparison to his peers, especially on the football team, but he was still coming off the high of his visit from coach Brown. It had been a tumultuous past few days which made it that much better and he genuinely enjoyed the time they had spent together.
Recruiting had started to pick up for the senior signal caller and once he got past the initial shock of a college football coach actually wanting him, they got pretty mundane but the visit from coach Brown as different as it wasn't just a constant sales pitch or cliché questions but actually football discussions on the whiteboard with the occasional trip down memory lane with coach Harrison. It was also the first extended conversation he had with a coach with his father not present.
There was also something about that black and red logo on coach Brown's polo. The first athlete -- college or pro -- that James was ever a fan of was Vince Young but his true idol, believe or not, came a few years later in Colt McCoy. Vince was an uber talented quarterback blessed with elite athleticism and a lively arm that would put most to shame. There was nothing overly impressive about McCoy just as there was nothing impressive at all about James which wasn't lost on him.
Texas Tech, led by another underwhelming talent at quarterback in Graham Harrell, were the first team to ever make James shed tears over a football game as his beloved Longhorns fell to the Red Raiders. He had long accepted that wearing burnt orange wasn't a possibility for him given his talent level but the chance to play for their in-state rival was becoming a reality.
The repetitive beeps from the school's communication system snapped James out of his Jones AT&T Stadium day dream and back into the real world. He glanced down at his phone as he started to gather his things and make his way downstairs while Jarvis and Summer continued to chat their ears off as they had done throughout class much to Mrs. Rojas chagrin.
James paid them no mind and instead was glad to be greeted by Anabelle as he made it to the bottom step where they shared a brief hug and kiss.
"I missed you this morning," James quickly addressed the giant tusk, "You must have been gone pretty early."
"Yeah," she replied flatly before turning to Summer, "Did you get started on the graphic design project for Paladino?"
"You know damn well I didn't," Summer rolled her eyes, "I was with you all weekend, I don't know why you acting brand new like we both not about to barely pass that class."
"It was supposed to be an easy A," Anabelle groaned, "Let's just go knock it out at the library."
"Right now?" Summer asked the same question that James was thinking.
"Yeah," she responded, much to James' surprise and disappointment as they hadn't spoken all morning.
"Well, alright. I guess a bitch ain't never going to eat," Summer complained before saying their goodbyes to the boys, leaving James in a heap of confusion.
...
Of all of the things that Joshua missed about football, not getting home in a timely manner wasn't one of them. Even with his occasional meetings with the support group, Joshua would still be home hours before any of his brothers or his father as they had practice to attend to. Instead, Joshua would get the house all to himself for a few hours to enjoy the peace and quiet or to experiment, whether in the kitchen or in the bedroom.
It was a kitchen day as he took a bite from the apple pie he had just spent hours tireless working over. He was glad to hear his mother come home as he rushed to the door with a plate and fork in hand.
"Let me breathe first," she laughed as Joshua tried to quickly stuff the piece of apple pie down her throat.
"Come on," he nagged as she took her sweet time getting settled in, taking a peak at the various ingredients that were on the kitchen countertop.
"It ain't half bad," she said as she took another bite, "It's actually pretty good, better than the one from last week for sure."
"I used the red apples this time," Joshua was proud of his adjustment, "It was just too tart with the green ones."
"It's a balance," Leanne began to clear out the kitchen to start prepping dinner, "Now some people might say that this one here is a bit sweet but I don't mind them that way. If you do use the green ones, you just gotta add a little bit more sugar, maybe some molasses to balance it out."
With a full day under his belt, Joshua attempted to take a seat but his mother quickly shot him a dirty look which got him back up to his feet, "What you need?"
"It's some pork in the fridge," she instructed him, "I was going to have you get started it but I forgot to text you, we might just need to grill them tonight."
"Chops?"
"Shoulder," she corrected, "I don't know, maybe with some mac and cheese or something?"
"I ain't never saying no to that," Joshua took out the bowl of pork and started seasoning it under the watchful eye of his mother.
"A little more," she added.
"I know," he nodded, "If I ain't sneezing, it ain't seasoned."
"That's the gospel," she cackled, "You do know part of cooking and baking is cleaning up, right?"
"I was going to," he defended himself.
"You should bake something for the fish fry on Sunday," she suggested, relentless but delicate in her pursuit to reel her son back to the church.
"I'm baking something for the fundraiser for Jacoby," he quickly shot back, "Besides, I don't think my presence would be welcomed by that man."
"You can't be mad at Pastor Carl forever," she sighed, "It's just complicated with the Bible and everything, you know that, you know the word."
"What I know is that a black man got killed and the church didn't say shit."
"Now," his mother's tone quickly changed, "Ain't no need for that kind of talk."
"Except there is!" he exclaimed, "Like, is everybody just going to forget what they did to him? Just move on? Like nothing happened?"
"Baby, you got to understand that this world ain't for us. We're just passing through," she continued, "Where men fail, the Lord will make things right."
"I'm sorry but that ain't enough," Joshua sucked his teeth before returning to the task at hand which they would finish up in complete silence.
Since they had began dating, it had been the longest time they had gone without seeing each other as James patiently waited to see her curly hair bouncing on her shoulders as she came down the porch steps.
Needless to be said, the Saturday night tradition on the diamond had gone by the wayside since the shooting so all parties involved stayed home that night, at least James did. He wasn't quite sure about Anabelle's whereabouts given the radio silence since Friday night. James' naivete led him to believe that once the game was over with, things would return to relative norm within the locker room, at school and in his relationship but as he stood in front of the porch waiting for someone that never came, he realized the error in his ways.
Plugging his earbuds in, he started his walk to school and used the opportunity as a way to clear his head. Seven weeks in, the grind of a season was starting to take a toll on James both physically and mentally as the thought of another install meeting with Coach Harrison was just as daunting as the countless hits he'd have to endure before the end of the season.
"You were really good on Friday," someone interrupted James' trek as he approached the school, eager to congratulate their starting quarterback.
"Thanks," he blanked on her name once more, a bit embarrassed this time. He looked through her towards the crowd of kids that were outside the school gates, meandering around as they delayed the inevitable. He tried to spot Anabelle as that was typically where she'd be waiting for him on the off-chance that they hadn't walked to school together but she was nowhere to be found.
He contemplated texting her but was soon interrupted.
"It's Jasmine," she laughed as she playfully punched James in the arm, "I hope that wasn't your throwing shoulder."
"It's not," he forced a chuckle, "You'll be alright although don't do it again, my linemen might be watching."
"Those are the guys that block," she said proudly, "I've been trying to like actually learn and know that the hell it is I'm watching."
"I thought your brother played?"
"You remembered!" she lit up, "But no, I mean, I went to a few games but I never bothered to learn anything."
"It's pretty simple once you get the hang of it," he was slightly distracted as he looked down at his phone but was dissapointed to find nothing. He finally pulled the trigger and texted her as he resumed his trek to his first period only to find Jasmine still by his side.
"When did you start playing?"
"I don't know, when I was born. The first team I actually remember being on was probably like five or six but there's pictures of me playing from before that, I just don't remember any of it."
"That's insane," she shook her head, "My parents didn't let my brother play until he was in high school with all of the head stuff and everything."
"I've actually never had a concussion," he mentioned, "I don't know, I think some of that stuff is overblown."
"You don't know that you've had a concussion," she corrected him, "That seems impossible with how much hitting you guys do. If I were to run full speed and just drop to the ground a few times, I'm sure as shit gonna be fucked up."
"We have helmets," he laughed as he was amused by her comparison, "It's definitely not for everybody."
"Are you calling me a punk ass bitch? Or a soft ass bitch?"
James was taken by surprise.
"I'm just kidding," she assured him with a smile, "I was just imitating how you guys talk to each other. I'm surprised y'all don't fight more."
"You clearly haven't met my dad," he explained to her, "If anyone throws a punch, the whole team gets punished for it and I'm not just talking running. Gassers, stairs, up downs, crab walk, anything you can think of, he thought of something worse."
"Is it worth it?"
"Punching someone? Fuck no."
"No," she scoffed, "Doing all of that to just play a game."
"I guess," he shrugged, although inside he had always been looking forward to being just a student.
The conversation had carried them to the courtyard where James' search for Anabelle was once again unsuccessful. Instead, his eyes landed on a teammate, Thien, who hurried over to him.
"Coach is looking for you," the junior receiver told James before redirecting his attention to the petite freshman next to him, "Hey, you're a trainer right?
She simply nodded before turning to James, "I guess I'll see you later."
"My dad?" James asked Thien as they started walking towards the locker room.
"Coach Harrison," Thien informed him, "I think someone's in there to see you."
...
"You pretty much stole our playbook," Coach Brown laughed as James continued to erase the whiteboard.
"If it works, it works. I wasn't about to rewrite the Bible," Coach Harrison shrugged off his former college teammate.
Neal Brown was a teammate of Coach Harrison's at Kentucky before transferring to UMass for his final two seasons. He began his coaching career there shortly after before finding his way down south at Troy as an offensive coordinator and eventually Texas Tech where the Red Raiders were in need of a signal caller for their 2013 recruiting class.
"What's your favorite concept?" Coach Brown asked James.
"I like Shallow," James quickly answered.
"He loves Shallow," Coach Harrison remarked with a smile.
"Any sort of crossing concepts really," James added.
Coach Brown sized up James who didn't impress him physically but his work on the board had as he was quickly able to draw up plays from memory that the team had ran. The Red Raiders were undefeated thanks in large part to the play of another physically unimpressive quarterback in Seth Doege whose quick decision making had turned him into one of college football's most prolific passers.
"We'd love to get you up there," Coach Brown started gathering his things as he had an extensive itinerary for the day, "I'm a straight shooter so we want you, we'd love for you to come by for a visit and we're officially offering you to be the next great quarterback at Texas Tech."
...
James' mind couldn't be further away as Mrs. Rojas lecture continued to go on deaf ears. He was a decent student by comparison to his peers, especially on the football team, but he was still coming off the high of his visit from coach Brown. It had been a tumultuous past few days which made it that much better and he genuinely enjoyed the time they had spent together.
Recruiting had started to pick up for the senior signal caller and once he got past the initial shock of a college football coach actually wanting him, they got pretty mundane but the visit from coach Brown as different as it wasn't just a constant sales pitch or cliché questions but actually football discussions on the whiteboard with the occasional trip down memory lane with coach Harrison. It was also the first extended conversation he had with a coach with his father not present.
There was also something about that black and red logo on coach Brown's polo. The first athlete -- college or pro -- that James was ever a fan of was Vince Young but his true idol, believe or not, came a few years later in Colt McCoy. Vince was an uber talented quarterback blessed with elite athleticism and a lively arm that would put most to shame. There was nothing overly impressive about McCoy just as there was nothing impressive at all about James which wasn't lost on him.
Texas Tech, led by another underwhelming talent at quarterback in Graham Harrell, were the first team to ever make James shed tears over a football game as his beloved Longhorns fell to the Red Raiders. He had long accepted that wearing burnt orange wasn't a possibility for him given his talent level but the chance to play for their in-state rival was becoming a reality.
The repetitive beeps from the school's communication system snapped James out of his Jones AT&T Stadium day dream and back into the real world. He glanced down at his phone as he started to gather his things and make his way downstairs while Jarvis and Summer continued to chat their ears off as they had done throughout class much to Mrs. Rojas chagrin.
James paid them no mind and instead was glad to be greeted by Anabelle as he made it to the bottom step where they shared a brief hug and kiss.
"I missed you this morning," James quickly addressed the giant tusk, "You must have been gone pretty early."
"Yeah," she replied flatly before turning to Summer, "Did you get started on the graphic design project for Paladino?"
"You know damn well I didn't," Summer rolled her eyes, "I was with you all weekend, I don't know why you acting brand new like we both not about to barely pass that class."
"It was supposed to be an easy A," Anabelle groaned, "Let's just go knock it out at the library."
"Right now?" Summer asked the same question that James was thinking.
"Yeah," she responded, much to James' surprise and disappointment as they hadn't spoken all morning.
"Well, alright. I guess a bitch ain't never going to eat," Summer complained before saying their goodbyes to the boys, leaving James in a heap of confusion.
...
Of all of the things that Joshua missed about football, not getting home in a timely manner wasn't one of them. Even with his occasional meetings with the support group, Joshua would still be home hours before any of his brothers or his father as they had practice to attend to. Instead, Joshua would get the house all to himself for a few hours to enjoy the peace and quiet or to experiment, whether in the kitchen or in the bedroom.
It was a kitchen day as he took a bite from the apple pie he had just spent hours tireless working over. He was glad to hear his mother come home as he rushed to the door with a plate and fork in hand.
"Let me breathe first," she laughed as Joshua tried to quickly stuff the piece of apple pie down her throat.
"Come on," he nagged as she took her sweet time getting settled in, taking a peak at the various ingredients that were on the kitchen countertop.
"It ain't half bad," she said as she took another bite, "It's actually pretty good, better than the one from last week for sure."
"I used the red apples this time," Joshua was proud of his adjustment, "It was just too tart with the green ones."
"It's a balance," Leanne began to clear out the kitchen to start prepping dinner, "Now some people might say that this one here is a bit sweet but I don't mind them that way. If you do use the green ones, you just gotta add a little bit more sugar, maybe some molasses to balance it out."
With a full day under his belt, Joshua attempted to take a seat but his mother quickly shot him a dirty look which got him back up to his feet, "What you need?"
"It's some pork in the fridge," she instructed him, "I was going to have you get started it but I forgot to text you, we might just need to grill them tonight."
"Chops?"
"Shoulder," she corrected, "I don't know, maybe with some mac and cheese or something?"
"I ain't never saying no to that," Joshua took out the bowl of pork and started seasoning it under the watchful eye of his mother.
"A little more," she added.
"I know," he nodded, "If I ain't sneezing, it ain't seasoned."
"That's the gospel," she cackled, "You do know part of cooking and baking is cleaning up, right?"
"I was going to," he defended himself.
"You should bake something for the fish fry on Sunday," she suggested, relentless but delicate in her pursuit to reel her son back to the church.
"I'm baking something for the fundraiser for Jacoby," he quickly shot back, "Besides, I don't think my presence would be welcomed by that man."
"You can't be mad at Pastor Carl forever," she sighed, "It's just complicated with the Bible and everything, you know that, you know the word."
"What I know is that a black man got killed and the church didn't say shit."
"Now," his mother's tone quickly changed, "Ain't no need for that kind of talk."
"Except there is!" he exclaimed, "Like, is everybody just going to forget what they did to him? Just move on? Like nothing happened?"
"Baby, you got to understand that this world ain't for us. We're just passing through," she continued, "Where men fail, the Lord will make things right."
"I'm sorry but that ain't enough," Joshua sucked his teeth before returning to the task at hand which they would finish up in complete silence.
Last edited by Soapy on 25 Sep 2023, 11:56, edited 1 time in total.
By Valor and Arms.
Chapter Fourteen: Captain Morgan
No one was better at dragging a long practice even longer than James Earl Little Sr. who had little use of wasted reps and would blow his whistle to start from the top.
The offense had completed its aim for the day as the starting unit watched from the sidelines while the first team defense continued to batter the second team offense but never quite to James Sr’s pleasure.
“Fucking spill that shit,” James Sr. commanded his sophomore outside linebacker as he trotted out onto the field to demonstrate the technique, “We want everything to the fucking outside, get your shoulder in there!”
“I’ll clean it up,” Devon assured his long-time coach who had grown to trust the talented safety, “Come on, tighten up D!”
“Your daddy on one today,” Jarvis remarked, squirting some water near the vicinity of his mouth as most of it ended on his jersey.
“When the fuck isn’t he?” James replied back, only half-joking as he leered at the cars driving past them in envy.
“What you on tonight, with your girl?” Jarvis asked, teasing a bit with the last part as he very well knew the answer.
James ignored him, simply shrugging his shoulders even though it was Thursday and Thursday’s meant their ritual of James’ walking her back home from rehearsal. They had been distant over the past few days and part of him wanted to use the opportunity to help mend relations while another part wasn’t overly excited about spending any more painstaking moments with her and the awkward silences.
He had decided not to inform her of the latest scholarship offer and the less time they spent together, the less it felt like he was hiding something from her.
“I was going to hangout with Summer and Alexis,” he moved closer to James, “Typically I’d invite Mike on the mission but he’s been fucking weird.”
“I wonder why,” James shook his head in disgust at Jarvis, who could be a bit of a goof at times.
“I’m just saying,” he groaned, “You know Alexis be hating on a nigga something serious, fucking cockblocking your boy.”
“You’ve been trying to fuck Summer for two years,” James laughed, “Some might say, two summers.”
“Haha, fuck you. Who says I haven’t smashed yet?”
“Yeah, aight. Get the fuck out of here. You did, nigga, by not telling anybody. You’d be the first one to tell somebody with your dick still inside her.”
“He’s not lying,” added Alex, who was a few feet away and overheard the conversation.
“Mind yours,” Jarvis playfully snapped at his running back, “Worry about hitting the hole and not dancing in that bitch, you could have had a 100-yards last game, making us look bad.”
“You need to worry about hitting the hole,” Alex couldn’t help himself, which sent everyone within hearing distance into a snickering frenzy.
It caught the brief attention of the coaching staff but they were quickly resumed to their on-field duties as the practice was coming to its conclusion.
“I’ll be your caddy,” James put his arm around his center, “We’re going to get you some tonight.”
...
Anabelle bit her top lip as the slight crack in Maxine’s voice during her solo drew a raised eyebrow from Cecille. Maxine was a talented singer but far from a soloist and the nerves appeared to be getting the better of her, even in front of the nearly empty crowd during rehearsal.
The crowd never bothered Anabelle, even when had first started singing as a child in the adult choir. Her mother warned her that it’d get tougher as her singing career progressed but it never did as each time, Anabelle would thrive under the spotlight as she was easy on the eyes and soft on the ears.
As Maxine was commanded by her mother to start from the top, Anabelle selfishly enjoyed watching someone else endure the wrath of her perfectionist ways, even if it meant an extended practice session.
While Anabelle typically enjoyed singing, whether rehearsing or otherwise, she was especially looking forward to this particular session as a way to clear her head and reset herself.
The shooting of Jacoby Smalls had impacted her more than she could have imagined as she never envisioned herself as a champion of social change. More personal than that, it had seemingly driven a wedge in her relationship with James with football -- the pesky little distraction it had always been -- serving as the catalyst. Or perhaps it was the other way around after all.
“I think you’ve got it,” Cecille forced a smile, much to Maxine’s relief and the rest of the choir as it was a sign that rehearsal was coming to an end.
Cecille went into her usual round of announcements before dismissing the crew with Anabelle walking over to Maxine.
“You did good,” she soothed her, “I can’t wait for Sunday.”
“I sure can,” Maxine let out a deep breath, not bothering to hide her anxiety.
“You’ll be just fine,” she rubbed her shoulder for comfort before exchanging goodbyes.
With her mom preoccupied by another churchgoer, Anabelle snuck off the podium and into the pews where James would typically be seated. While she was at best agnostic towards the sport, she did learn to have an understanding of it and the playoffs were right around the corner so extended practices were to be expected.
She grabbed her phone and was excited to see James’ name flash in her long list of missed notifications but her excitement was short lived as she received the news that he wasn’t going to be able to make it.
...
James was quite frankly regretting his decision as he continued to log hours on the Hudl app watching film of Leflore County while the girls watched another episode of America’s Next Top Model. Jarvis had excused himself to the kitchen where he was steadfast in his pursuit to make his renowned nachos.
Perhaps the reason for his large figure befitting of an SEC offensive lineman, Jarvis was quite the cook and quick to offer his culinary expertise as a way to sway favor with the ladies, although it never seemed to work.
During the early portions of fall camp, Michael and James would hurry over to Jarvis’ house for some food to refuel their body before the second half of two-a-days. His mother was rarely home as she never met a shift she didn’t want to pick up and when she wasn’t working, she was spending her hard money down at the docks where the Illegal Business Gambling Act was neither recognized nor adhered to.
“Finally,” Alexis jumped off the couch with excitement and headed towards the front door with her phone in hand.
“Who’s there?” Jarvis came out of the kitchen at the sound of the door opening and didn’t hide the displeasure from his face when he saw it was Rose, the third member of the quartet.
“Smells good in here,” Rose quickly remarked before being surprised to see James sitting there amongst them, “Hey!”
James smiled and nodded towards her general direction as he continued to feel out of place. He had met Summer, Alexis and Rose through Anabelle and couldn’t recount how many times they had hung out without Anabelle being there as much of his social life revolved around being her plus-one.
The true purpose of Rose’s arrival was made clear as she started pulling out travel-size bottles of alcohol out of her bag, all bottom shelf quality of course.
This didn’t deter any of the indulgers as Alexis’ quickly downed one and started offering them around as there seemed to be an endless supply coming from Rose’s backpack.
“Did you rob them folks?” Jarvis asked in amazement as he had joined the rest of the gathering in the living room, grabbing a bottle for himself and chugging it.
“You know your girl the fucking plug,” she bragged, “My girl needed me to come through and that’s what I do.”
“That’s right,” Alexis tightly hugged Rose before handing James a bottle, the only one that hadn’t partaken, “I know whiskey is your thing.”
“I don’t know how y’all drink that shit,” added Rose, drinking from a mini-vodka bottle.
“Tastes good to me,” James shrugged, half-lying to himself as he took a swig, killing nearly half of the bottle. His grandfather drank whiskey and so did his father so he just followed suit even though he was quite partial to a nicely flavored rum.
They all seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere as the bottles would go up and come back down empty.
...
“Come on,” Alexis waved another bottle in front of James, “Don’t be a little scaredy cat now.”
Jarvis’ plan to use James as a distraction for Alexis worked as the two had gotten into a heated drinking competition. Unfortunately for Jarvis, Rose was now serving as a distraction for Summer as well as they had spent most of the night together with Jarvis serving as the third wheel before eventually retiring to his room.
James was then left with a fierce competitor that was dead set on finishing the last of the mini bottles that never seemed to end.
“It’s just four more,” she emptied the bag on the couch where they were both lying on, trying to fight through.
Luckily for James, three of them were rums while the final one was a flavored vodka.
“You guys are crazy,” Rose laughed from afar as she continued to watch on, “Come on Lex, don’t let this nigga beat you.”
James hadn’t said much for the past hour, saving his energy on focusing on not passing out nor throwing up. He had tried to keep it consistent but the nature of the competition meant that he had been mixing alcohols for the better part of the past two hours.
“I’m going to hold it down for us,” James said to no one in particular as he aggressively grabbed the bottle from Alexis.
“Oooh, now this is the James that you save for Anabelle, huh?” she teased him as she unscrewed her bottle and quickly downed it, holding her hand over her mouth for a brief moment before taking a giant gulp.
James' stomach was already turning as he brought the bottle to his lip and tilted his head back, holding his breath in an effort to not smell or taste the alcohol as it went down his throat. It was unsuccessful as he felt himself ready to hurl but managed to hold it down.
He stood up and started pacing which drew some cheers from both Rose and Summer while Alexis was laughing on the couch.
“Anabelle needs to come get her man!” Rose joked, “He’s about to pass out!”
“No the fuck I ain’t!” James smiled back, “Don’t go down easy on me now, we got one more!”
“I’m done,” she motioned her hand across her neck, “I was done a long time ago, I thought the last one would have killed you.”
“Wow,” James said loudly, “That’s crazy, I thought y’all were the lit girls, popping bottles and shit.”
“You ain’t win yet,” Summer was quick to interject, “You got the finish the last one for you to win or else it’s just a draw, that’s how we always play it.”
With Leflore County being the last thing on his mind, James confidently grabbed the bottle, winked at the room and finished the job.
No one was better at dragging a long practice even longer than James Earl Little Sr. who had little use of wasted reps and would blow his whistle to start from the top.
The offense had completed its aim for the day as the starting unit watched from the sidelines while the first team defense continued to batter the second team offense but never quite to James Sr’s pleasure.
“Fucking spill that shit,” James Sr. commanded his sophomore outside linebacker as he trotted out onto the field to demonstrate the technique, “We want everything to the fucking outside, get your shoulder in there!”
“I’ll clean it up,” Devon assured his long-time coach who had grown to trust the talented safety, “Come on, tighten up D!”
“Your daddy on one today,” Jarvis remarked, squirting some water near the vicinity of his mouth as most of it ended on his jersey.
“When the fuck isn’t he?” James replied back, only half-joking as he leered at the cars driving past them in envy.
“What you on tonight, with your girl?” Jarvis asked, teasing a bit with the last part as he very well knew the answer.
James ignored him, simply shrugging his shoulders even though it was Thursday and Thursday’s meant their ritual of James’ walking her back home from rehearsal. They had been distant over the past few days and part of him wanted to use the opportunity to help mend relations while another part wasn’t overly excited about spending any more painstaking moments with her and the awkward silences.
He had decided not to inform her of the latest scholarship offer and the less time they spent together, the less it felt like he was hiding something from her.
“I was going to hangout with Summer and Alexis,” he moved closer to James, “Typically I’d invite Mike on the mission but he’s been fucking weird.”
“I wonder why,” James shook his head in disgust at Jarvis, who could be a bit of a goof at times.
“I’m just saying,” he groaned, “You know Alexis be hating on a nigga something serious, fucking cockblocking your boy.”
“You’ve been trying to fuck Summer for two years,” James laughed, “Some might say, two summers.”
“Haha, fuck you. Who says I haven’t smashed yet?”
“Yeah, aight. Get the fuck out of here. You did, nigga, by not telling anybody. You’d be the first one to tell somebody with your dick still inside her.”
“He’s not lying,” added Alex, who was a few feet away and overheard the conversation.
“Mind yours,” Jarvis playfully snapped at his running back, “Worry about hitting the hole and not dancing in that bitch, you could have had a 100-yards last game, making us look bad.”
“You need to worry about hitting the hole,” Alex couldn’t help himself, which sent everyone within hearing distance into a snickering frenzy.
It caught the brief attention of the coaching staff but they were quickly resumed to their on-field duties as the practice was coming to its conclusion.
“I’ll be your caddy,” James put his arm around his center, “We’re going to get you some tonight.”
...
Anabelle bit her top lip as the slight crack in Maxine’s voice during her solo drew a raised eyebrow from Cecille. Maxine was a talented singer but far from a soloist and the nerves appeared to be getting the better of her, even in front of the nearly empty crowd during rehearsal.
The crowd never bothered Anabelle, even when had first started singing as a child in the adult choir. Her mother warned her that it’d get tougher as her singing career progressed but it never did as each time, Anabelle would thrive under the spotlight as she was easy on the eyes and soft on the ears.
As Maxine was commanded by her mother to start from the top, Anabelle selfishly enjoyed watching someone else endure the wrath of her perfectionist ways, even if it meant an extended practice session.
While Anabelle typically enjoyed singing, whether rehearsing or otherwise, she was especially looking forward to this particular session as a way to clear her head and reset herself.
The shooting of Jacoby Smalls had impacted her more than she could have imagined as she never envisioned herself as a champion of social change. More personal than that, it had seemingly driven a wedge in her relationship with James with football -- the pesky little distraction it had always been -- serving as the catalyst. Or perhaps it was the other way around after all.
“I think you’ve got it,” Cecille forced a smile, much to Maxine’s relief and the rest of the choir as it was a sign that rehearsal was coming to an end.
Cecille went into her usual round of announcements before dismissing the crew with Anabelle walking over to Maxine.
“You did good,” she soothed her, “I can’t wait for Sunday.”
“I sure can,” Maxine let out a deep breath, not bothering to hide her anxiety.
“You’ll be just fine,” she rubbed her shoulder for comfort before exchanging goodbyes.
With her mom preoccupied by another churchgoer, Anabelle snuck off the podium and into the pews where James would typically be seated. While she was at best agnostic towards the sport, she did learn to have an understanding of it and the playoffs were right around the corner so extended practices were to be expected.
She grabbed her phone and was excited to see James’ name flash in her long list of missed notifications but her excitement was short lived as she received the news that he wasn’t going to be able to make it.
...
James was quite frankly regretting his decision as he continued to log hours on the Hudl app watching film of Leflore County while the girls watched another episode of America’s Next Top Model. Jarvis had excused himself to the kitchen where he was steadfast in his pursuit to make his renowned nachos.
Perhaps the reason for his large figure befitting of an SEC offensive lineman, Jarvis was quite the cook and quick to offer his culinary expertise as a way to sway favor with the ladies, although it never seemed to work.
During the early portions of fall camp, Michael and James would hurry over to Jarvis’ house for some food to refuel their body before the second half of two-a-days. His mother was rarely home as she never met a shift she didn’t want to pick up and when she wasn’t working, she was spending her hard money down at the docks where the Illegal Business Gambling Act was neither recognized nor adhered to.
“Finally,” Alexis jumped off the couch with excitement and headed towards the front door with her phone in hand.
“Who’s there?” Jarvis came out of the kitchen at the sound of the door opening and didn’t hide the displeasure from his face when he saw it was Rose, the third member of the quartet.
“Smells good in here,” Rose quickly remarked before being surprised to see James sitting there amongst them, “Hey!”
James smiled and nodded towards her general direction as he continued to feel out of place. He had met Summer, Alexis and Rose through Anabelle and couldn’t recount how many times they had hung out without Anabelle being there as much of his social life revolved around being her plus-one.
The true purpose of Rose’s arrival was made clear as she started pulling out travel-size bottles of alcohol out of her bag, all bottom shelf quality of course.
This didn’t deter any of the indulgers as Alexis’ quickly downed one and started offering them around as there seemed to be an endless supply coming from Rose’s backpack.
“Did you rob them folks?” Jarvis asked in amazement as he had joined the rest of the gathering in the living room, grabbing a bottle for himself and chugging it.
“You know your girl the fucking plug,” she bragged, “My girl needed me to come through and that’s what I do.”
“That’s right,” Alexis tightly hugged Rose before handing James a bottle, the only one that hadn’t partaken, “I know whiskey is your thing.”
“I don’t know how y’all drink that shit,” added Rose, drinking from a mini-vodka bottle.
“Tastes good to me,” James shrugged, half-lying to himself as he took a swig, killing nearly half of the bottle. His grandfather drank whiskey and so did his father so he just followed suit even though he was quite partial to a nicely flavored rum.
They all seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere as the bottles would go up and come back down empty.
...
“Come on,” Alexis waved another bottle in front of James, “Don’t be a little scaredy cat now.”
Jarvis’ plan to use James as a distraction for Alexis worked as the two had gotten into a heated drinking competition. Unfortunately for Jarvis, Rose was now serving as a distraction for Summer as well as they had spent most of the night together with Jarvis serving as the third wheel before eventually retiring to his room.
James was then left with a fierce competitor that was dead set on finishing the last of the mini bottles that never seemed to end.
“It’s just four more,” she emptied the bag on the couch where they were both lying on, trying to fight through.
Luckily for James, three of them were rums while the final one was a flavored vodka.
“You guys are crazy,” Rose laughed from afar as she continued to watch on, “Come on Lex, don’t let this nigga beat you.”
James hadn’t said much for the past hour, saving his energy on focusing on not passing out nor throwing up. He had tried to keep it consistent but the nature of the competition meant that he had been mixing alcohols for the better part of the past two hours.
“I’m going to hold it down for us,” James said to no one in particular as he aggressively grabbed the bottle from Alexis.
“Oooh, now this is the James that you save for Anabelle, huh?” she teased him as she unscrewed her bottle and quickly downed it, holding her hand over her mouth for a brief moment before taking a giant gulp.
James' stomach was already turning as he brought the bottle to his lip and tilted his head back, holding his breath in an effort to not smell or taste the alcohol as it went down his throat. It was unsuccessful as he felt himself ready to hurl but managed to hold it down.
He stood up and started pacing which drew some cheers from both Rose and Summer while Alexis was laughing on the couch.
“Anabelle needs to come get her man!” Rose joked, “He’s about to pass out!”
“No the fuck I ain’t!” James smiled back, “Don’t go down easy on me now, we got one more!”
“I’m done,” she motioned her hand across her neck, “I was done a long time ago, I thought the last one would have killed you.”
“Wow,” James said loudly, “That’s crazy, I thought y’all were the lit girls, popping bottles and shit.”
“You ain’t win yet,” Summer was quick to interject, “You got the finish the last one for you to win or else it’s just a draw, that’s how we always play it.”
With Leflore County being the last thing on his mind, James confidently grabbed the bottle, winked at the room and finished the job.
Last edited by Soapy on 25 Sep 2023, 13:24, edited 1 time in total.
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By Valor and Arms.
Oh this dude a demon huh ![Obama :obama:](./images/smilies/obama.png)
![Obama :obama:](./images/smilies/obama.png)
By Valor and Arms.
Chapter Fifteen: Pushing Through
A dry mouth and a heavy head was all that awaited James as he peeled himself off the couch, using his left arm to block out the sun that had peered through the blinds. He sat himself up, taking a moment to compose himself before forcing himself up to his feet. It didn't take long for reality to set in, just in time for his stomach to turn as he frantically reached for his phone.
It was of no use as it was as lifeless as the trio of girls that were bunched up together on the other end of the couch. He contemplated waking them up but instead dashed towards Jarvis' room, knocking on the door loud enough to accomplish the former.
"Fuck," Rose groaned, rolling away from the sound of James' fist meeting Jarvis' door to no avail.
Running out of patience, James turned the knob to reveal an empty room and the sight of Jarvis' bedside clock which unfortunately read 10:10 AM.
...
"Just bring it out here," Joshua instructed D'Ondre as he lingered around the kitchen, picking on some of the leftovers from the breakfast that his mother had cooked up as part of her usual gameday morning spread only for it to be left untouched by an angry James Sr. and an absent James Jr.
D'Ondre obliged, carrying the gaming system from James' room into the living room where they hooked it up to the projector in the living room. Joshua continued to pig out in the kitchen while D'Ondre diligently got everything set up.
"What we betting on?"
Joshua rolled his eyes at D'Ondre's remark as he retired from the kitchen, "You still owe me like $60 from our last bet, bitch."
"I got you food," D'Ondre rolled his eyes, "We starting over anyway, might as well count this as a brand new season."
"You still can't stop Cam," Joshua boasted as he grabbed one of the controllers, "Matter of fact, I might use the Niners on your bitch ass."
"You always use the best teams and then act like you did something."
"I beat you with the Redskins last time, fuck you talking about?"
"You just run around with RG3," D'Ondre shook his head as the two continued their constant bickering throughout the team selection process.
The playful banter was soon interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps followed by the tussling of keys near the door. Joshua froze as he went through the Rolodex of possibilities before he was relatively relieved to see his older brother come through the door.
"Damn nigga," Joshua scoffed, "You almost scared a nigga to death."
James didn't say anything as he was simply glad to be out of the unforgiven sunlight which had turned up the intensity on his throbbing headache. He took a seat in the kitchen which was when he realized that Joshua had company when they both locked eyes.
He had met D'Ondre before under very different circumstances when the diminutive freshman was hurling his guts out near the end of a grueling summer conditioning workout. D'Ondre didn't hide it as well as Joshua did so his time on the team was short lived but James always thought he could have potentially had a future in the sport especially in coach Harrison's offense where shifty receivers in the slot were always in need.
The same could have been said for Joshua.
"James," James introduced himself to D'Ondre, mustering up the energy to walk towards the living room and shake his hand.
"I know," D'Ondre smiled, "I was on the team for a minute, D'Ondre."
"I remember," James joined them in the living room, crashing on the couch.
"Dad gonna fuck you up," Joshua shook his head, "He might hate you more than me right now."
"Doubt it," James teased his brother, drawing a playful slap to the head, "Chill, man, I feel like dying right now."
"I'd recommend it," Joshua continued, "I'm serious, I ain't seen him that mad in a minute."
...
"He's here," coach Xavier walked in and added a check next to 'James Earl Little Jr' on the whiteboard, "I just got a text from his third period teacher."
"What you did that for?" James Sr. looked up at his former receiver, now receiver's coach, "He ain't playing."
Coach Xavier, the youngest coach on the staff, sheepishly erased the mark next to James' name before slipping out of the coaches office, leaving James Sr, coach Snoop and coach Harrison.
"Come on," coach Snoop reasoned, "The boy messed up but he still showed up and that's the policy."
"The policy isn't to not fucking come home," James Sr. quickly fired back at his long time confidant while coach Harrison watched on.
"Hold on, now. That ain't far to the kid," coach Snoop defended the senior quarterback, "Ain't no telling how many of them boys ain't come home plenty of nights and you know James, that ain't his character."
"It's not my place," coach Harrison chimed in, "But James is the ultimate pro, this isn't him, not in a million years would I have expected this from him. First one to every meeting since I've been here, even when he wasn't playing, didn't complain, always helpful, he's as good as they come."
"Who we need to be sitting is Jarvis' fat ass," coach Snoop sucked his teeth, "I got a third-year starter at center that's gonna leave his starting quarterback passed out at his house and then come tell me about it and not drag his ass in here? We done cut corners before for his ass, we ain't never need to do that for nephew. He don't mess up, he's the perfect kid."
The fact it was so out of character was exactly what was eating James Sr. up on the inside. Even with James' physical limitations, he had been everything a coach could ask for in a player and a son, even when he wasn't finding success on the practice field. Joshua and Elijah were the more gifted athletes but when everything blew up with Joshua, James Sr. grew a deeper appreciation for who James was despite not playing, remaining dedicated to the sport and by extension his father.
"Xavier!" James Sr. called out for his receivers coach who scurried his way back inside the coaches' office, "Get his ass down here."
...
James' knees were weak from exhaustion, dehydration and an added factor in fear as he made the walk down the steps and towards the athletic complex, a walk he had made plenty of times but not under those circumstances. He had powered through the worst of the hangover, taking a cold shower at the house before heading over to school but every now and then, he would feel dizzy and uneasy.
The throbbing headache had dissipated but now it was his heart that felt like it was about to come through his chest as he opened the double doors that led into the varsity locker room, bracing himself as he marched into the coaches' office.
He was glad to find coach Snoop and coach Harrison in there as well before meeting eyes with his father who laid back in his chair. He wasn't sure what to say or what to do, even with his hands as they just fiddled around before deciding to put them into his pocket.
"You don't have anything say?" James Sr. poignantly asked him.
"I'm sorry," James muttered.
"Speak up," coach Snoop used the laminated game plan that was in his hand to tap James on the leg.
"I messed up," James cleared his throat, "I wat at Jarvis' and we just lock track of the time and fell asleep and there's no excuses or anything. I let the team down, I let you guys down....it won't happen again, sir."
"You were smart enough to at least wash it off you," James Sr. scoffed, "You could smell that shit on him."
James Sr's lightened the mood, at least among coach Snoop and coach Harrison who shared a chuckle.
"If you were me, what would you do?" James Sr. asked his son.
It was a good question, one that James' thought hard and well on. He had spent plenty of Fridays on the sideline so one more would be no different but in many ways, it would be. The newfound success had relit James' passion for the sport and when it was nearly taken away due to the potential protest last week, it was the first time that James had realized just how much the game meant to him once more. The thought of not playing, once a given, was now a frightening one for James.
"I'd bench the player," James had no choice but to admit.
"You're goddamn right," James Sr. sat up, "But that'd be hurting the team, not just you. You're going to play but you and me, we got a date afterwards tonight. You're going to wish you ain't play tonight, that's for damn sure."
...
"If you don't see the problem, I don't even see the point of this back and forth."
Alexis had been dealt a losing hand in trying to explain to Anabelle what happened. It didn't help that she was still recovering from the previous night which had led her other co-defendants to sleeping in that day and foregoing school altogether even after they dragged themselves out of Jarvis' house.
"None of y'all would like it if I was getting drunk with your nigga," Anabelle insisted, "Like what is there not to get?"
"We didn't even know he was going to be there," Alexis tried to explain, "We always turn up at Jarvis' crib, you know this, it ain't nothing new. I guess Jarvis invited him instead of Mike since you know Mike ain't been hanging around like before. It's not like anything happened."
"But it could have," Anabelle shook her head, "Y'all didn't even tell me or nothing, that's some real snake shit for me to find out like this."
"We all figured you knew or something," Alexis was doing a pretty good job, considering the circumstances, "Girl, you know we're fucking twins, ain't nobody throwing that out for no nigga or nothing. We wasn't trying to disrespect you or come at you sideways or none of that, that wasn't the plan at all."
...
James winced as he completed another throw, taking a deep breath before receiving the ensuing snap from Jarvis followed by a 15-yard out route to Thien near the sidelines. He had been handed a concoction from Alyssa, the head trainer, to deal with the dehydration and had used the 45 minute bus ride to Leflore County Stadium to give him that final charge but there were still some lingering effects from the night before.
"You good?" Jarvis walked on over to James as warm-ups concluded, drawing nothing but a side eye from his quarterback, "You straight, man?"
"I can't believe your ass," James sucked his teeth, "How the fuck you gonna leave me and then go ahead and tell coach?"
"I told you your ass wouldn't wake up," Jarvis laughed, "I figured I let him know we was at my house before he thought something really was wrong with you, that's all."
James had to table his disdain for Jarvis for a later date as he had bigger fish to fry with their undefeated season on the line and an angry girlfriend blowing up his phone since the morning.
...
"It's a completion to the senior Ostrander on the outside but once again, Little Jr. a little bit inaccurate on that throw."
...
"Weisbecker has to reach back for the pass and he's quickly wrapped up."
...
"A high throw to Chris Husein in the flats and he's tackled, that'll be fourth down."
...
"Little starting to get it going, another completion to Ostrander who turns up field and it's a touchdown! The drought is over as the Trojans get on the scoreboard in the second quarter."
...
James practically walked off the field in an effort to keep his stomach in a stable condition. He had started to feel alright leading up to the game but the usual nerves he dealt with on game days combined with his less than ideal state led him to feel like complete shit from the first whistle.
It was going to be a long night.
...
"Little tries to escape the rush and he's brough....no, he's still standing! He looks, throws, touchdown! What a highlight play from the senior on that touchdown to put the Trojans back up heading into halftime!"
...
"The offense stays on the field and they're going to throw it on fourth and one....pressure's getting there and Little finds Ostrander once again, his man for the night!"
...
"It's a dot to Sarria to keep the drive alive on third down, what a throw and catch!"
...
"Wide open touchdown for the fullback there and East Side extends their lead in the fourth quarter, looks like it's going to hold!"
...
"The Trojans need a first down here on third and eight to ice the game after the interception. Little gets the snap, rolls to his left, nothing there and he's still going to throw it and it's nearly intercepted! What a missed opportunity for Leflore County!"
...
"What the fuck was that?!" James Sr. yelled at both his offensive coordinator and James as he came off the field.
Out of both exhaustion and annoyance, James didn't pay his father no mind as he took a seat on the bench, getting a few pats on the shoulder from his teammates.
"I need to bring that down," Thien defended his quarterback.
"He needs to not fucking throw it!" James Sr. was besides himself before returning his attention to the field where his defense was now tasked with finishing the game off.
"Just a bit more arc on it," coach Harrison assured his quarterback with a slight nod.
James didn't care about anything anyone of them were saying, he was just looking forward to laying in his bed for the first time in a while.
He started a slow trek before James Sr. continued to flash his lights, causing him to pick up the pace. He finished strong at the street sign before taking a breather and turning back around, sprinting until he reached the truck. He made the mistake of leaning on the trunk, causing James Sr. to honk the car before instructing him to run another one.
...
"They're still out there?" Joshua exclaimed to his mother as he came out of his room, "You're not going to do anything?"
"Y'all know the rules of this house," she presented a united front even though she too felt it was getting a bit excessive, "Y'all sleep in this house; point, blank, period."
"He ain't doing that shit as a dad," Joshua scoffed.
"Excuses me?!"
Before Leanne could get the opportunity to address her son, Joshua opened the front door and started walking towards James and James Sr. James was once again hunched over, this time near the truck as he tried to gather his breathe. James Sr. looked up from chastising James to see the sight of Joshua aggressively approaching them.
"You want to kill him or something?!" Joshua exclaimed towards James Sr.
"Who the fuck you think you're talking to?" James Sr. raised his voice as well, getting out of the truck.
James used the opportunity to crash on the floor, laying his head down on the pavement and looking towards the sky. It was now dawning on him that at this point the night before, he was surrounded by beautiful women and endless alcohol.
"He's dead already," Joshua pointed to his older brother, "You already proved your point! If you were so fucking mad, you shouldn't have played him."
"I know you think you got away with that little stunt you pulled," James Sr. placed his finger right in Joshua's face, "But don't think for a second you run anything under my fucking roof, you understand me?"
Just as James Sr. placed it there, Joshua was quick to slap his finger out of his face. James Sr. raised his hand once more, this time to smack Joshua across the face hard enough to cause him to lose his balance. Before James Sr. could continue to carry out his punishment, Joshua dove at his legs, bringing him down on the patchy grass area next to the sidewalk.
James watched on, too exhausted to do anything as he continued to laid there. They had both been itching for a fight ever since Joshua's 'coming out' which led to him quitting football. The recent incidents only added fuel to a fire that was slowly kindling for a few years.
They tussled around on the floor for a few minutes before James Sr. ended up on top, holding his son to the ground by grabbing the collar of his shirt and pushing it down. Joshua had size on his father but grown man strength was proving to be a real thing as he laid there, unable to turn the tide.
"I'm sparing you, you know that?!" James Sr. shouted at him, "You big bitch, don't you ever try no shit like that again!"
Joshua ignored his father's word as he continued to squirm, trying to lift James Sr. off of him but to no avail.
"Enough," James Sr. said calmly, appreciative that his son had no quit in him as he stood up, reaching down and helping Joshua get to his feet.
"Y'all get cleaned up," he instructed both of his sons as Joshua walked over to James, helping him get up as well, "Y'all momma cooked pork chops for us."
A dry mouth and a heavy head was all that awaited James as he peeled himself off the couch, using his left arm to block out the sun that had peered through the blinds. He sat himself up, taking a moment to compose himself before forcing himself up to his feet. It didn't take long for reality to set in, just in time for his stomach to turn as he frantically reached for his phone.
It was of no use as it was as lifeless as the trio of girls that were bunched up together on the other end of the couch. He contemplated waking them up but instead dashed towards Jarvis' room, knocking on the door loud enough to accomplish the former.
"Fuck," Rose groaned, rolling away from the sound of James' fist meeting Jarvis' door to no avail.
Running out of patience, James turned the knob to reveal an empty room and the sight of Jarvis' bedside clock which unfortunately read 10:10 AM.
...
"Just bring it out here," Joshua instructed D'Ondre as he lingered around the kitchen, picking on some of the leftovers from the breakfast that his mother had cooked up as part of her usual gameday morning spread only for it to be left untouched by an angry James Sr. and an absent James Jr.
D'Ondre obliged, carrying the gaming system from James' room into the living room where they hooked it up to the projector in the living room. Joshua continued to pig out in the kitchen while D'Ondre diligently got everything set up.
"What we betting on?"
Joshua rolled his eyes at D'Ondre's remark as he retired from the kitchen, "You still owe me like $60 from our last bet, bitch."
"I got you food," D'Ondre rolled his eyes, "We starting over anyway, might as well count this as a brand new season."
"You still can't stop Cam," Joshua boasted as he grabbed one of the controllers, "Matter of fact, I might use the Niners on your bitch ass."
"You always use the best teams and then act like you did something."
"I beat you with the Redskins last time, fuck you talking about?"
"You just run around with RG3," D'Ondre shook his head as the two continued their constant bickering throughout the team selection process.
The playful banter was soon interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps followed by the tussling of keys near the door. Joshua froze as he went through the Rolodex of possibilities before he was relatively relieved to see his older brother come through the door.
"Damn nigga," Joshua scoffed, "You almost scared a nigga to death."
James didn't say anything as he was simply glad to be out of the unforgiven sunlight which had turned up the intensity on his throbbing headache. He took a seat in the kitchen which was when he realized that Joshua had company when they both locked eyes.
He had met D'Ondre before under very different circumstances when the diminutive freshman was hurling his guts out near the end of a grueling summer conditioning workout. D'Ondre didn't hide it as well as Joshua did so his time on the team was short lived but James always thought he could have potentially had a future in the sport especially in coach Harrison's offense where shifty receivers in the slot were always in need.
The same could have been said for Joshua.
"James," James introduced himself to D'Ondre, mustering up the energy to walk towards the living room and shake his hand.
"I know," D'Ondre smiled, "I was on the team for a minute, D'Ondre."
"I remember," James joined them in the living room, crashing on the couch.
"Dad gonna fuck you up," Joshua shook his head, "He might hate you more than me right now."
"Doubt it," James teased his brother, drawing a playful slap to the head, "Chill, man, I feel like dying right now."
"I'd recommend it," Joshua continued, "I'm serious, I ain't seen him that mad in a minute."
...
"He's here," coach Xavier walked in and added a check next to 'James Earl Little Jr' on the whiteboard, "I just got a text from his third period teacher."
"What you did that for?" James Sr. looked up at his former receiver, now receiver's coach, "He ain't playing."
Coach Xavier, the youngest coach on the staff, sheepishly erased the mark next to James' name before slipping out of the coaches office, leaving James Sr, coach Snoop and coach Harrison.
"Come on," coach Snoop reasoned, "The boy messed up but he still showed up and that's the policy."
"The policy isn't to not fucking come home," James Sr. quickly fired back at his long time confidant while coach Harrison watched on.
"Hold on, now. That ain't far to the kid," coach Snoop defended the senior quarterback, "Ain't no telling how many of them boys ain't come home plenty of nights and you know James, that ain't his character."
"It's not my place," coach Harrison chimed in, "But James is the ultimate pro, this isn't him, not in a million years would I have expected this from him. First one to every meeting since I've been here, even when he wasn't playing, didn't complain, always helpful, he's as good as they come."
"Who we need to be sitting is Jarvis' fat ass," coach Snoop sucked his teeth, "I got a third-year starter at center that's gonna leave his starting quarterback passed out at his house and then come tell me about it and not drag his ass in here? We done cut corners before for his ass, we ain't never need to do that for nephew. He don't mess up, he's the perfect kid."
The fact it was so out of character was exactly what was eating James Sr. up on the inside. Even with James' physical limitations, he had been everything a coach could ask for in a player and a son, even when he wasn't finding success on the practice field. Joshua and Elijah were the more gifted athletes but when everything blew up with Joshua, James Sr. grew a deeper appreciation for who James was despite not playing, remaining dedicated to the sport and by extension his father.
"Xavier!" James Sr. called out for his receivers coach who scurried his way back inside the coaches' office, "Get his ass down here."
...
James' knees were weak from exhaustion, dehydration and an added factor in fear as he made the walk down the steps and towards the athletic complex, a walk he had made plenty of times but not under those circumstances. He had powered through the worst of the hangover, taking a cold shower at the house before heading over to school but every now and then, he would feel dizzy and uneasy.
The throbbing headache had dissipated but now it was his heart that felt like it was about to come through his chest as he opened the double doors that led into the varsity locker room, bracing himself as he marched into the coaches' office.
He was glad to find coach Snoop and coach Harrison in there as well before meeting eyes with his father who laid back in his chair. He wasn't sure what to say or what to do, even with his hands as they just fiddled around before deciding to put them into his pocket.
"You don't have anything say?" James Sr. poignantly asked him.
"I'm sorry," James muttered.
"Speak up," coach Snoop used the laminated game plan that was in his hand to tap James on the leg.
"I messed up," James cleared his throat, "I wat at Jarvis' and we just lock track of the time and fell asleep and there's no excuses or anything. I let the team down, I let you guys down....it won't happen again, sir."
"You were smart enough to at least wash it off you," James Sr. scoffed, "You could smell that shit on him."
James Sr's lightened the mood, at least among coach Snoop and coach Harrison who shared a chuckle.
"If you were me, what would you do?" James Sr. asked his son.
It was a good question, one that James' thought hard and well on. He had spent plenty of Fridays on the sideline so one more would be no different but in many ways, it would be. The newfound success had relit James' passion for the sport and when it was nearly taken away due to the potential protest last week, it was the first time that James had realized just how much the game meant to him once more. The thought of not playing, once a given, was now a frightening one for James.
"I'd bench the player," James had no choice but to admit.
"You're goddamn right," James Sr. sat up, "But that'd be hurting the team, not just you. You're going to play but you and me, we got a date afterwards tonight. You're going to wish you ain't play tonight, that's for damn sure."
...
"If you don't see the problem, I don't even see the point of this back and forth."
Alexis had been dealt a losing hand in trying to explain to Anabelle what happened. It didn't help that she was still recovering from the previous night which had led her other co-defendants to sleeping in that day and foregoing school altogether even after they dragged themselves out of Jarvis' house.
"None of y'all would like it if I was getting drunk with your nigga," Anabelle insisted, "Like what is there not to get?"
"We didn't even know he was going to be there," Alexis tried to explain, "We always turn up at Jarvis' crib, you know this, it ain't nothing new. I guess Jarvis invited him instead of Mike since you know Mike ain't been hanging around like before. It's not like anything happened."
"But it could have," Anabelle shook her head, "Y'all didn't even tell me or nothing, that's some real snake shit for me to find out like this."
"We all figured you knew or something," Alexis was doing a pretty good job, considering the circumstances, "Girl, you know we're fucking twins, ain't nobody throwing that out for no nigga or nothing. We wasn't trying to disrespect you or come at you sideways or none of that, that wasn't the plan at all."
...
James winced as he completed another throw, taking a deep breath before receiving the ensuing snap from Jarvis followed by a 15-yard out route to Thien near the sidelines. He had been handed a concoction from Alyssa, the head trainer, to deal with the dehydration and had used the 45 minute bus ride to Leflore County Stadium to give him that final charge but there were still some lingering effects from the night before.
"You good?" Jarvis walked on over to James as warm-ups concluded, drawing nothing but a side eye from his quarterback, "You straight, man?"
"I can't believe your ass," James sucked his teeth, "How the fuck you gonna leave me and then go ahead and tell coach?"
"I told you your ass wouldn't wake up," Jarvis laughed, "I figured I let him know we was at my house before he thought something really was wrong with you, that's all."
James had to table his disdain for Jarvis for a later date as he had bigger fish to fry with their undefeated season on the line and an angry girlfriend blowing up his phone since the morning.
...
"It's a completion to the senior Ostrander on the outside but once again, Little Jr. a little bit inaccurate on that throw."
...
"Weisbecker has to reach back for the pass and he's quickly wrapped up."
...
"A high throw to Chris Husein in the flats and he's tackled, that'll be fourth down."
...
"Little starting to get it going, another completion to Ostrander who turns up field and it's a touchdown! The drought is over as the Trojans get on the scoreboard in the second quarter."
...
James practically walked off the field in an effort to keep his stomach in a stable condition. He had started to feel alright leading up to the game but the usual nerves he dealt with on game days combined with his less than ideal state led him to feel like complete shit from the first whistle.
It was going to be a long night.
...
"Little tries to escape the rush and he's brough....no, he's still standing! He looks, throws, touchdown! What a highlight play from the senior on that touchdown to put the Trojans back up heading into halftime!"
...
"The offense stays on the field and they're going to throw it on fourth and one....pressure's getting there and Little finds Ostrander once again, his man for the night!"
...
"It's a dot to Sarria to keep the drive alive on third down, what a throw and catch!"
...
"Wide open touchdown for the fullback there and East Side extends their lead in the fourth quarter, looks like it's going to hold!"
...
"The Trojans need a first down here on third and eight to ice the game after the interception. Little gets the snap, rolls to his left, nothing there and he's still going to throw it and it's nearly intercepted! What a missed opportunity for Leflore County!"
...
"What the fuck was that?!" James Sr. yelled at both his offensive coordinator and James as he came off the field.
Out of both exhaustion and annoyance, James didn't pay his father no mind as he took a seat on the bench, getting a few pats on the shoulder from his teammates.
"I need to bring that down," Thien defended his quarterback.
"He needs to not fucking throw it!" James Sr. was besides himself before returning his attention to the field where his defense was now tasked with finishing the game off.
"Just a bit more arc on it," coach Harrison assured his quarterback with a slight nod.
James didn't care about anything anyone of them were saying, he was just looking forward to laying in his bed for the first time in a while.
...
...
"Fuck," James spat onto the ground as he remained hunch over, a few feet separating his face from the contents that had just emitted from his stomach. It was mostly water and bile now as the first few hurls got rid of any of the food he had picked on throughout the day in an effort to get his energy back up for the game. This was proving to be tougher than that as James Sr. watched on from his truck, flashing the light at James when it was time for him to get going....
He started a slow trek before James Sr. continued to flash his lights, causing him to pick up the pace. He finished strong at the street sign before taking a breather and turning back around, sprinting until he reached the truck. He made the mistake of leaning on the trunk, causing James Sr. to honk the car before instructing him to run another one.
...
"They're still out there?" Joshua exclaimed to his mother as he came out of his room, "You're not going to do anything?"
"Y'all know the rules of this house," she presented a united front even though she too felt it was getting a bit excessive, "Y'all sleep in this house; point, blank, period."
"He ain't doing that shit as a dad," Joshua scoffed.
"Excuses me?!"
Before Leanne could get the opportunity to address her son, Joshua opened the front door and started walking towards James and James Sr. James was once again hunched over, this time near the truck as he tried to gather his breathe. James Sr. looked up from chastising James to see the sight of Joshua aggressively approaching them.
"You want to kill him or something?!" Joshua exclaimed towards James Sr.
"Who the fuck you think you're talking to?" James Sr. raised his voice as well, getting out of the truck.
James used the opportunity to crash on the floor, laying his head down on the pavement and looking towards the sky. It was now dawning on him that at this point the night before, he was surrounded by beautiful women and endless alcohol.
"He's dead already," Joshua pointed to his older brother, "You already proved your point! If you were so fucking mad, you shouldn't have played him."
"I know you think you got away with that little stunt you pulled," James Sr. placed his finger right in Joshua's face, "But don't think for a second you run anything under my fucking roof, you understand me?"
Just as James Sr. placed it there, Joshua was quick to slap his finger out of his face. James Sr. raised his hand once more, this time to smack Joshua across the face hard enough to cause him to lose his balance. Before James Sr. could continue to carry out his punishment, Joshua dove at his legs, bringing him down on the patchy grass area next to the sidewalk.
James watched on, too exhausted to do anything as he continued to laid there. They had both been itching for a fight ever since Joshua's 'coming out' which led to him quitting football. The recent incidents only added fuel to a fire that was slowly kindling for a few years.
They tussled around on the floor for a few minutes before James Sr. ended up on top, holding his son to the ground by grabbing the collar of his shirt and pushing it down. Joshua had size on his father but grown man strength was proving to be a real thing as he laid there, unable to turn the tide.
"I'm sparing you, you know that?!" James Sr. shouted at him, "You big bitch, don't you ever try no shit like that again!"
Joshua ignored his father's word as he continued to squirm, trying to lift James Sr. off of him but to no avail.
"Enough," James Sr. said calmly, appreciative that his son had no quit in him as he stood up, reaching down and helping Joshua get to his feet.
"Y'all get cleaned up," he instructed both of his sons as Joshua walked over to James, helping him get up as well, "Y'all momma cooked pork chops for us."
Last edited by Soapy on 25 Sep 2023, 15:26, edited 1 time in total.
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By Valor and Arms.
Oh the end of that last update was crazy ![drose :drose:](./images/smilies/Dead.png)
![drose :drose:](./images/smilies/Dead.png)