My Name Is River Blue (27 page)

"Yeah, that
was the 1977 season, I think. Papa taught Gabe a lot about football."

"It looks
like Gabe's eyes were a babe-magnet chocolate color like River's," said
Ant.

Manny nodded. "The
same kind of girl is after River too."

"What does
that mean?" I asked.

"When she was
young, Carlee's mother took riding lessons here because she had a crush on Gabe,
but he fell for an Ackers State student, named Missy. Missy hired Gabe to guide
her through the remote parts of the county because she was into nature
photography. Sometimes they rode the horse trails, and other times, they took
canoe rides down the Blue Bergeron. Right away, they fell in love. Anyway, Bill
Summers tried his best to get Beth to go out with him, but she kept waiting for
Gabe, who only wanted Missy. It was a real mess."

I remembered my
conversation with Carlee. "Carlee told me that her mother took lessons out
here to see a guy, but I didn't know it was your little brother. That's wild."
I looked again at a picture of Missy and Gabe. "Missy was hot."

"She was a very
pretty girl," agreed Manny. "After Gabe died, Missy never came out
here again. I tried to locate her through the school, but all they said was
that she withdrew. I had no way to check on her. I often wonder what she did
with her life."

I hesitated
asking, but I really wanted to know. "Do you mind saying what happened to
Gabe?"

"No, I
don't mind. Not long after his twentieth birthday, he went camping alone for a
few days. I believe he needed time to sort out his feelings for Missy. That's just
a guess because Gabe could be very private."

"Girls can
make you crazy," I said. "It was probably a tough time for him."

"I think so.
Anyway, he went camping near the river. When he didn't return, we went after him
and found that he had been shot in the chest. He was unconscious and never woke
up. He died in the ER. The cops never did determine who fired the shot, but their
best guess was that Gabe was hit with a stray bullet from a trespasser who probably
never knew where that bullet went. At the time, we had a problem with people
illegally hunting deer on Long property so that was the logical conclusion by
the cops."

"I'm sorry,
Manny," I said. "That's a crappy thing to happen to a good guy. You
don't sound like you believe the cops."

"I can't
afford a slander lawsuit, so keep this between us. You can't ever tell Carlee."

"Yes, sir. We
won't say a word."

"I
suspected that Big Bill shot him or had him shot to eliminate the competition
for Beth even though Gabe only wanted Missy. Bill is not a man who takes
rejection well, and if he wants something bad enough, he doesn't care what he
has to do to get it. He came out here once and offered Gabe money to drive Beth
away."

"Wow. What
happened?" asked Ant.

"Gabe told
Bill to kiss his ass, and Papa had to ask Bill to leave the property before
there was a fight. Papa and Bill used to have a friendly relationship, but now
they just tolerate each other. The only times they see each other anymore are situations
like Carlee's party, something the booster club is doing, or a council
meeting."

"Mr.
Summers sounds like a nut,” said Ant.

Manny agreed. "Bill
and Sam, his younger brother, both have loose screws in my opinion, and I'm not
sure which one hated Gabe more. Sam played football with Gabe and blamed my
brother for a freak collision during practice that tore up Sam's shoulder and
caused him to miss the rest of the season. Sam was always trying to outdo his
big brother. They both played football, but Sam was never as good as Bill. Even
now, he's not half the businessman that Bill is. I don't think he stays sober
long enough."

Ant interrupted.
"Sounds like Sam washes down his sour grapes with booze. I can tell you
from watching my family that booze and drugs don't put you nowhere but down."

"About Gabe's
death, I know it was probably an accident," said Manny. "Maybe it's easier
for me to have someone to blame."

Manny looked so sad
to me. "Manny, I wish I could do more than tell you I'm sorry."

His voice grew emotional.
"Thanks. I loved having a little brother, and Gabe was the best. Having you
guys here reminds me of how much he livened up the place."

I studied one of
the photos of Manny with his arm around a grinning Gabe with Deer Lake in the
background. I wondered what Gabe would have done with his life if he had lived.

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

August
2001

Harper Springs
High School was a football power during much of the seventies and eighties when
they were regular competitors in the state playoffs. The Hawks won their last
state championship in 1984 when Gabe Flores played. They remained competitive
for a few years afterwards, but they slowly slipped into mediocrity and playoff
appearances became rare. After many coaches failed in their efforts to rebuild
the program, Harper Springs finally had the coach everyone believed could bring
the glory back to Hawks football.

In his first season,
Head Coach Steve Haney guided the team to the playoffs for the first time in
six years, and there were high expectations for his second season at the helm
of the Hawks. In addition to having some quality starters returning, Coach
Haney added Ant, Max, Gary, and me from the undefeated junior high team. The
coach wouldn't say how much varsity playing time, if any, that we freshman
would see, but I knew that there was fan pressure on Coach Haney to play me in
our first game.

After my eighth
grade year, I was a celebrity in our football crazy town. As a
fourteen-year-old high school freshman, I was nervous to know that some college
recruiters were already discussing me as a once in a lifetime player before I
had appeared a single high school varsity game.

Even though I
had a great season playing for my junior high team and had broken most of the
quarterback records for the conference, I was a kid without the kind of
experience that I needed to start at varsity quarterback, and no one understood
that better than I did. I wanted to play, but I thought that I should gain
experience by playing in games when we led by a large margin. I knew that Coach
Haney would use every opportunity he could to help me gain experience and
confidence, and I certainly didn't want to play too soon and embarrass myself.

Our new high
school, which had been open for two years, was large in terms of both physical
size and attendance. The local government and residents were proud of the new
school and the first class athletic facilities, but they were nervous about the
amount of debt left after state and federal aid was stretched as far as it
would go. Each fundraising event was critical to maintain the school's athletic
programs.

The last
Saturday in August was Fan and Media Day for the Harper Springs High School
football team. It was organized by Coach Haney, Principal Wilson, and the
Harper Springs High School Booster Club. The goal was not only to allow the
fans and media unusual access to the players and coaches but also to create
excitement that would help generate money for the Hawks' program.

The day began
with the media and boosters attending a morning kickoff meeting hosted by
Principal Wilson in the large conference room of our athletic building. The
building also housed all the offices of the athletic staff and rooms for
supplies, athletic gear, weight training, physical therapy, and audio/video
equipment.

There were forty-two
invited media representatives and booster club members. They faced coaches and
players, including me, seated behind a long table, broken in the middle by a
podium equipped with a microphone. Principal Wilson stood at the podium along
with Athletic Director Dodd and Coach Haney. A look at my teammates told me
that they would have slept late that Saturday morning if the coach had given
them a choice.

We all wore our
jerseys, and the visitors could identify us by looking at the roster of players
in the program guide. I was number seven, and I learned that to some of my teammates,
"seven" was also my name. It took time to get used to teammates
calling me by a number even when we were away from football.

Principal Wilson
greeted everyone and told them briefly of the planned activities for that day. Coach
Haney would give an opening statement about the team and a preview of the first
game, and then the reporters would be allowed to ask questions of him or any of
the players present. Afterwards, everyone would move to the stadium where the
team would run some plays and show off for their fans. Later, the players would
be available to meet the fans and hand out free Hawks programs, which the fans'
favorite players would autograph. For a $20 donation to the booster club, fans
could have their pictures taken with the players of their choice. Any time that
players were not busy with fans, they were free to speak briefly with the media,
but Principal Wilson stressed that no media person was to take a player away
from a fan.

After Coach
Haney's opening remarks, he called several of his older players to the podium
to answer questions from the reporters. At the start, the questions were
typical, but the subject matter became more uncomfortable for me when the two
veteran quarterbacks came to the podium together.

One was senior
Casey Hampton, last year's starting quarterback. In the program, Casey was
again listed as QB1 for the coming season. Junior Josh Greer, listed as the
number two quarterback on the depth chart, stood next to him. I was the third
quarterback, but the coach didn't ask me to join the other two at the podium,
and I was glad.

Roy Pittman, a
reporter for
The Sun,
was the first to ask a question of Casey and Josh.
"Have you two spent much time trying to help River Blue get accustomed to
high school ball? And what's your opinion on his progress?"

I could see a
barely perceptible flash of irritation on the faces of both boys. Casey Hampton
answered the question. "We haven't worked with him that much. As far as
his progress, you would have to ask Coach Haney that question."

Pittman played
with fire. "One more question for you guys, if both of you were injured,
do you think River is good enough to play your position?"

Coach Haney
stood before the microphone. "Please don't ask my players to critique a
teammate. That's my job, not theirs. Also, every player on my team is important
and deserves your respect, so please don't belittle one of them by ignoring his
skills and contributions, so you can ask a back-door question about another
player."

With a very red
face, Pittman took his seat as the two quarterbacks answered other reporters' questions
that were more acceptable to Coach Haney.

Towards the end
of the meeting, Coach Haney called me to the podium. I think it was obvious to
everyone that the coach purposely allowed the veteran players to go first,
which was a smart move to help prevent their resentment. As for me, I didn't
want to come to the meeting at all, but the booster club thought that they
needed the media to keep my name in the news. They hoped that my popularity
would fill more seats in the stadium and raise more money. Since I most likely
wouldn't play in the game, I was like a loss leader product that a manager
advertises to draw customers inside his store.

As I moved to the
podium, one reporter got some laughs when he commented to those around him that
I was too big to be a freshman. At fourteen years old, I was a little over six
feet tall and weighed 180 pounds. I would grow even more during the next two
years. The team had a strength coach in charge of weight training and
conditioning, and he had been available to work with the players during the
summer. For me, the coach's guidance in the weight room, and my own exercise
routine and diet, worked together to improve my strength, speed, and stamina. I
had always worked hard to have a strong body, but even I was impressed with my
progress over the summer prior to my freshman year of high school.

I hated answering
questions from obnoxious reporters. Prior to Media Day, Coach Haney and I
rehearsed what my answers should be to certain questions, and I sounded much like
a robot with some of my replies.

One reporter asked,
"River, have you learned enough about the team's offense to play in a
game?"

"I still
have a lot to learn, but I think I would do okay in a mop up situation."

Another reporter
asked, "Will you be playing on special teams?"

"I don't
think so, but I'll play whenever and wherever the coach tells me."

Another
question, "Are you feeling a little down to go from being the star of your
team last year to being a freshman who may not play much this year?"

"Everyone
on the team can make an important contribution, so no, I'm not down, and I'll
do whatever the team needs, including their laundry, if that's what Coach Haney
wants."

"Truthfully,
do you think you're good enough to start at quarterback?"

I remembered
what the coach told me to say, and I repeated him almost perfectly. "I
think Coach Haney would be making a mistake to start me over two very good
quarterbacks, who obviously have more experience than I have. I totally support
Casey and Josh, and I'm grateful to be on the varsity squad where I have the
opportunity to learn from watching those guys."

"How do you
keep a level head at your age with all the attention you receive from your fans
and the media?"

"I don't need
attention, and I don't take it seriously. Right now, I would rather be watching
the college pre-season shows and picking lint out of my navel than standing at
this podium." They could tell that Coach Haney didn't give me that answer.

Some of the
reporters laughed, and others didn't seem to think that my comments were funny.
I was too inexperienced to realize that I was only making the hounds more
determined to chase, not only my play on the football field, but also any
controversial statements I might make.

Before anyone
could ask me another question, Coach Haney and Principal Wilson almost stumbled
as they hurried to step behind the podium and announce the conclusion of that
portion of the program. Principal Wilson invited our guests to have
refreshments in the next room before they joined the fans to watch us run plays
on the field. Coach Haney shielded me from the reporters and waited until they
filed out of the room before leading me and the other players through another
exit.

***

In our locker
room, the smells emanating from so many sweat-soaked practice uniforms, tee
shirts, shorts, socks, jocks, cleats, and towels hung unusually strong in the
air. I suspected that after the locker room was closed down all night that the
janitorial staff was hit with an oppressive stench each morning. The one
feature of our locker room that helped make the smell bearable for them was its
many windows, which they opened early each morning long before the first
students arrived.

Ant, Max, Gary,
and I agreed that we had never ended a football practice as exhausted as we
were on the Tuesday night before our first varsity game on Friday. Long after
we had soaped and rinsed, we all leaned into the shower wall while the hot
water rained down on our aching muscles. We were too tired for the normal
locker room banter.

The older
players, showering across from us, were also unusually quiet, not bothering to
harass us as they normally did. I was glad that the upperclassmen were
apparently as wasted from the brutal practice as we were. I was not in the mood
to be a good sport while I performed another one of their stupid, humiliating
tasks, and I knew for sure that I was never again leading a procession of new
varsity players in the squatting duck walk with our jocks worn over our heads.

As far as I was
concerned, I was done with the traditional hazing that new players endured, so
the veteran players would accept them as part of the varsity team. The unwritten
rule was that the harassment of new players, which included the four of us
freshmen and twelve sophomores promoted from junior varsity, stopped after the
team scored its first touchdown of the season. If everyone had followed school
policy, there would have been no hazing of any kind, but the older players
ignored the rule. The new players knew better than to complain, and although the
coaches officially supported school policy, they unofficially monitored the
hazing to ensure that it didn't go too far. I assumed that "too far"
meant the accidental death of a freshman or sophomore.

When Hal Mackey
brought us home from practice, Jenny warmed the dinners she had saved for Ant
and me and served them to us at the dining room table. The Mackeys sat with us,
and we were soon joined by some of our foster brothers who wanted to hear about
practice and if we would see any playing time Friday night. I had developed a friendly
relationship with my house parents and my foster brothers over the previous
year, but I was too tired to talk, and I continued eating while Ant answered
their questions.

"I'm going
to play on special teams," explained Ant. "I'm one of the two deep
guys on kickoff returns, and I'm on the punt return team. River will stay on
the sideline with Coach Haney. The number two quarterback and River will both be
signaling plays to the offense, but one of them gives the real play, and the
other one gives fake signs."

"River's
big and fast," said Jeff. "He should be playing somewhere. I don't
get it."

Jeff Simms was an
eleven-year-old African-American orphan, who moved from the boys home into
Tolley House during the summer. After his third charge for shoplifting food,
specifically sandwich meat and cheese, the court threatened him with Stockwell
and placed him on probation in Tolley House. The court dismissed Jeff's claims
that the older boys at the home were stealing his food, but all of us believed
him. Stealing food is different from stealing video games. Why would a kid
steal food unless he was hungry?