Read The Heartbeat of Halftime Online
Authors: Stephen Wunderli
The Heartbeat of Halftime (2 page)
THE BEGINNING OF A LONG SEASON
W
e walked home the long way that day, wonderin' to ourselves if we would win a game that season, or if we'd have to suffer through every single Monday lunch period as the garbage dump. See, we were all in the eighth grade. That meant we still had to eat lunch with Ed Stebbings. Fat Ed was in our same league, an Olympus Titan too, but he played for the team a year older. So I guess it bugged him when any Titan team didn't win. All last year he'd bombed our lunch table with mashed potatoes, carrot Jell-O, and drippy ice cream every time we lost. Seems we spent the whole autumn sitting in someone else's leftover lunch.
e walked home the long way that day, wonderin' to ourselves if we would win a game that season, or if we'd have to suffer through every single Monday lunch period as the garbage dump. See, we were all in the eighth grade. That meant we still had to eat lunch with Ed Stebbings. Fat Ed was in our same league, an Olympus Titan too, but he played for the team a year older. So I guess it bugged him when any Titan team didn't win. All last year he'd bombed our lunch table with mashed potatoes, carrot Jell-O, and drippy ice cream every time we lost. Seems we spent the whole autumn sitting in someone else's leftover lunch.
“I guess Fat Ed'll be back,” Flame said.
We all looked down at our feet then, or at the canal we were walkin' beside. The canal moved
slow and stinky. It was full of leeches, and sometimes in the summer we'd play war on the banks, throwin' huge stones in the smelly water tryin' to splash each other, or we'd gather rotten produce from the grocery store and fire that at each other like great moldy bombs; but never during football season. When the season began we gave up the wars and saved our fight for the games. Even though we were losers, we still loved the game and fought each one as if we had a chance. And when we lost, we suffered the lunchroom barrage with dignity.
slow and stinky. It was full of leeches, and sometimes in the summer we'd play war on the banks, throwin' huge stones in the smelly water tryin' to splash each other, or we'd gather rotten produce from the grocery store and fire that at each other like great moldy bombs; but never during football season. When the season began we gave up the wars and saved our fight for the games. Even though we were losers, we still loved the game and fought each one as if we had a chance. And when we lost, we suffered the lunchroom barrage with dignity.
“He'll be back,” said Bam. “And he'll be bigger â¦
bam!
⦠just like that.”
bam!
⦠just like that.”
“Least I got a ice cream last year,” Taco Bell said.
We all looked at him, tryin' to figure out what he was talkin' about.
“I got a ice cream when Ed threw it at me. It was only half gone and it landed on a clean part of my shirt, so I ate it.”
We all laughed. Taco Bell will eat anything. And if there isn't any food around, he picks at his own scabs and nibbles on them. More than once we've caught him at it, and the only answer he ever has is, “Well, I'm hungry.” Then he chews away like there's nothing wrong with it.
“It was good, too,” he said about the ice cream. “It was!”
We started shoving him then and someone got
the idea to push him into the canal. But he was big, and he took us all on like a madman.
the idea to push him into the canal. But he was big, and he took us all on like a madman.
“I can't get wet!” he screamed. “I have to go to my piano lesson!” That made us try even harder, but it was no use. We finally gave up when Spray Can and Taco Bell knocked heads. Taco Bell didn't notice much, but it raised a lump on Spray Can's eyebrow large enough to hang a dish towel on. Spray Can just sat down and instead of crying about it he let us all watch it grow.
“Wow,” said Taco Bell. “It's as big as a peach ⦠with ice cream!”
Even Spray Can laughed then and we all walked home after decidin' that if Ed Stebbings and his fellow food throwers started in again this year we'd stand Taco Bell out front to gobble up any incoming. Taco Bell seemed willing enough, so we left it at that, not thinking about it again until we lost our first game.
When I got home, my father was asleep in the chair by the window. Mom was gone, and he kinda half stirred when I shut the door.
“That you, Wing?” he said sleepily. Even Pop called me by my nickname. Maybe he expected me to grow into it.
“Yeah, it's me, Pop,” I said.
“How was the first practice?” he said, lifting his head off his shoulder to look at me.
“It was okay, I guess.”
“It's too early to tell,” he said, trying to smile. “Could be, could be a good year.”
“Yeah, right. Is there dinner?” I asked, changing the subject and heading for the kitchen.
“Your mom left you a sandwich in the fridge. I wanted to come by, you know. The first practice is always fun to watch. I, I was just too tired. Sorry.”
“It's okay,” I said. “You didn't miss much.”
I found the sandwich then and went in to sit by Pop. I told him about the man-eating tuba, and about Coach's speeches and this new kid Spray Can. I told him almost everything that happened at practice because I know how much he loves football. He played in college, not a lot because he had a bad hip from a collision in a high-school game. So by the time he got to college, his best years on the field were already spent. He must've wanted to play one more season so bad, but just couldn't.
“I'm the fastest on the team this year, Pop,” I said.
“I thought Heat was faster than you.”
“Not this year,” I said, trying not to be too proud. “I got him by a whole stride.”
“Well,” Pop said, rubbing the side of his face 'cause it needed a shave. “You have grown; that happens. You're still awful skinny.”
“Don't matter,” I said, laughing. “They can't hit me if they can't catch me.”
Pop agreed, and we both laughed about it. Then I
told him how big Taco Bell had gotten and he wasn't surprised about that at all. He's seen Taco Bell eat too. We would've kept talkin' until Mom got home, but Dad was pretty tired. I helped him out of his chair and he said maybe I was stronger than I looked. He limped off to bed then and I sat down in his chair and looked out the window, looked out at the dark the way he would and wondered what it would be like to wait for a boy to come home from football practice, wait to see him walk up the drive, wait to see him wave, wait for him to come through the door, wait for the cancer to take my body away from it all and leave nothing but an empty chair in an empty room. I think that's when it was hardest, the first few weeks after we found out how short a time he had left with us. Maybe not even as long as a football season.
told him how big Taco Bell had gotten and he wasn't surprised about that at all. He's seen Taco Bell eat too. We would've kept talkin' until Mom got home, but Dad was pretty tired. I helped him out of his chair and he said maybe I was stronger than I looked. He limped off to bed then and I sat down in his chair and looked out the window, looked out at the dark the way he would and wondered what it would be like to wait for a boy to come home from football practice, wait to see him walk up the drive, wait to see him wave, wait for him to come through the door, wait for the cancer to take my body away from it all and leave nothing but an empty chair in an empty room. I think that's when it was hardest, the first few weeks after we found out how short a time he had left with us. Maybe not even as long as a football season.
MAYBE WE SHOULD JOIN THE BAND
F
or the first three weeks it felt like it would be the longest season in history. We learned fourteen plays, and we did them over and over and over again on the hot, dusty field. And there was the band, always moaning in a sad way, clanging together and stumbling, never moving in one precise motion like bands are supposed to. They were like us. Bumping into each other, trying to learn how to march and play at the same time, trying hard to be a team. They complained, we complained. And when the practice was over we all sat together in the shade of a dying elm tree and waited for our parents to pick us up or for the energy to come back to our muscles so we could walk home. We were an odd bunch then; I think we all felt like misfits. The band that nobody wanted to hear, the football team
that no one came to watch. It was kinda funny in a way, because somehow it made us friends.
or the first three weeks it felt like it would be the longest season in history. We learned fourteen plays, and we did them over and over and over again on the hot, dusty field. And there was the band, always moaning in a sad way, clanging together and stumbling, never moving in one precise motion like bands are supposed to. They were like us. Bumping into each other, trying to learn how to march and play at the same time, trying hard to be a team. They complained, we complained. And when the practice was over we all sat together in the shade of a dying elm tree and waited for our parents to pick us up or for the energy to come back to our muscles so we could walk home. We were an odd bunch then; I think we all felt like misfits. The band that nobody wanted to hear, the football team
that no one came to watch. It was kinda funny in a way, because somehow it made us friends.
The first two games were the worst I'd ever seen, or played. We didn't score, we didn't stop anyone from scoring, and the band played the national anthem so badly most folks didn't even know what they were playing. After the second loss, when we were all sitting together under that elm tree after a long Monday practice, Coach walked over and stood in front of us. He didn't bother stepping out of the sun; he just stood there and looked at us for a long time: the band, the football team.
“Well,” he finally said, looking at the drummers and horn players. “If we lose another game, why don't you trade places with these guys in pads?”
Some of them kinda laughed. Farts and Fats looked at each other. They were twins. Farts played football with us, and his brother played the tuba. They looked at each other as if to say, “Sure, why not?” Maybe some of the other guys were thinking that same thing, that we might as well trade places. But most of us sat there wondering if we could ever win on our own. Not because of a car accident, or police intervention, but because we earned it. I guess we had lost so many games we had gotten used to it, we expected it. We expected to show up, make a few tackles, run a few plays, watch the other team celebrate, and go home. We expected to
go to school the next day, sit at our lunch table, the garbage dump, and have garbage rain down on us like we deserved it.
go to school the next day, sit at our lunch table, the garbage dump, and have garbage rain down on us like we deserved it.
We sat under the tree for a long time that day. Bam, Taco Bell, Spray Can, Heat, and me. We wanted to change things somehow. But none of us could think of a way to do it. We just looked at each other, looked away, and waited for something to happen. But nothin' did, and we all finally went home.
SPRAY CAN'S LESSON
B
am came over later that night. He must've been thinkin' about it for some time, because it was late and my dad and mom had already gone to bed. I was lyin' there, sorta half asleep. I'd been readin' about the Green Bay Packers, about Vince Lombardi and how he taught them football, how they learned to win, when I heard somethin' hit my window. I woke up, and for a moment I was standing there on the frozen field in Green Bay. Then I heard it again. I looked out the window and I saw, barely visible in the moonlight, Bam, Heat, and Taco Bell surrounded by Heat's dogs.
am came over later that night. He must've been thinkin' about it for some time, because it was late and my dad and mom had already gone to bed. I was lyin' there, sorta half asleep. I'd been readin' about the Green Bay Packers, about Vince Lombardi and how he taught them football, how they learned to win, when I heard somethin' hit my window. I woke up, and for a moment I was standing there on the frozen field in Green Bay. Then I heard it again. I looked out the window and I saw, barely visible in the moonlight, Bam, Heat, and Taco Bell surrounded by Heat's dogs.
“What are you doin'?” I said.
“C'mon,” they said back. “Get down here, we got someplace to go.”
“Where?”
“Just get down here before your folks wake up and â¦
bam!
⦠we're all in trouble.”
bam!
⦠we're all in trouble.”
I pushed the screen out. It was bent from bein' pushed out so many times and it came out easy. Then I walked along the eve and dropped down into the bushes with my shoes in my hand. While I put 'em on, Bam told me what was up.
“We don't know Spray Can,” he said.
“Yeah we do,” I said.
“We don't,” Bam said. “We gotta know him better. The rest of us have been together a long time. Spray Can's got to catch up if we're ever gonna be a team.”
I knew he was right. Spray Can had just moved down from Idaho and had never played before. Coach put him at middle linebacker because he could hit. In fact, Spray Can loved to hit, loved to knock people down. But he had a hard time findin' the ball carrier. If it was a sweep, Spray Can would crash the middle. If it was up the middle, Spray Can was poundin' the end. Half the time he was knockin' over his own guys. If we could get him a nose for the ball, get him some smarts, maybe it would make a difference.
We were up and joggin' then, out toward the freeway that rumbled on like a river, day and night. We never paid much attention to it during the day, but at night it seemed more alive. Maybe 'cause nothin' else was goin' on and
it was dark. We rested underneath it, feeling the trucks rumble above us. It was like we were beneath the surface of the earth, in a world all our own.
it was dark. We rested underneath it, feeling the trucks rumble above us. It was like we were beneath the surface of the earth, in a world all our own.
A car turned off a side street and drove toward us. We scrambled up the concrete hill and hid in the shadows. The car stopped and a guy and his girlfriend got out. The car radio was on loud and they started dancing, right there alone, without a band, or friends, or nothin'. We watched for a moment, none of us sayin' anything, just Heat's dogs panting in the dark. Dancin' with a girl had seemed so far away, like none of us would ever do it. Suddenly it was right there. We all knew it was somethin' we'd have to do, that our time was gettin' close. The ninth graders always had a dance at the end of the year and invited the eighth graders. We knew this like we knew about the end of the world. It was a day we feared more than any game day. We watched that couple with a kind of sick fascination, like watchin' a car accident or a house burn down. That is, except for Taco Bell. He had this silly grin on his face like he was enjoying it, like he was looking forward to dancing with a girl. None of us could understand it. When we'd had enough, we snuck away, no one sayin' a word but all of us scared for the future.
None of us knew for sure where Spray Can lived. We knew that his pop owned a gas station up on
the boulevard. That was about all we needed to know, because the boulevard is pretty deserted. It's just a highway that runs along the edge of the mountain on the way to the canyon. We also figured that there must be a house close to the station, 'cause that's the direction Spray Can headed every day after practice. We were right. There was only one gas station on the deserted street, and it had a house attached to it. There were no lights on, except for a blue light comin' from a small window in the back. When we got closer we saw that it was the light from the TV. Spray Can was asleep on the couch and a monster movie was playin'. We watched it for a minute. The giant creature from the sea was ripping out telephone poles and stomping on cars. It looked pretty real except for the cars; you could tell they were toys even from where we were watching. Then the creature picked up an ice-cream truck and emptied it. Taco Bell cheered.
the boulevard. That was about all we needed to know, because the boulevard is pretty deserted. It's just a highway that runs along the edge of the mountain on the way to the canyon. We also figured that there must be a house close to the station, 'cause that's the direction Spray Can headed every day after practice. We were right. There was only one gas station on the deserted street, and it had a house attached to it. There were no lights on, except for a blue light comin' from a small window in the back. When we got closer we saw that it was the light from the TV. Spray Can was asleep on the couch and a monster movie was playin'. We watched it for a minute. The giant creature from the sea was ripping out telephone poles and stomping on cars. It looked pretty real except for the cars; you could tell they were toys even from where we were watching. Then the creature picked up an ice-cream truck and emptied it. Taco Bell cheered.
“C'mon,” Bam said. “We gotta get Spray Can.”
The window was small, and it was open. We could see Spray Can's face snoring on the couch.
“Spray Can!” I whispered. “Spray Can, get up.”
“Not too loud,” Bam said. “We don't want his pop after us.”
“He won't wake up,” I said.
Taco Bell started rummaging around then. He found a long piece of pipe and handed it to me. I carefully poked it through the window to try and reach Spray Can's shoulder. But it wasn't long enough and all I could reach was his face. I was tryin' to gently tap him on the head, but the pipe was heavy, and, well, it came down pretty hard on his nose.
“Ow!” Spray Can yelped, sitting straight up.
“Spray Can, get up!” Bam whispered.
“What's goin' on?” Spray Can yelled. Then he called his dog. “Bob, come here, boy. Get over here.”
Bob was a dirty, mean-lookin' boxer with crooked ears and fierce eyes. He bounded into the room and leaped right for the window, barking crazy, like he wanted to tear us apart.
“Who's out there?” Spray Can yelled.
By then we had fallen over each other and were scrambling through the greasy trash tryin' to get outta there. Heat's dogs went crazy barking and jumping up at the window.
“Who is it?” Spray Can demanded.
“It's us,” Taco Bell finally answered. “It's Taco Bell ⦠and, and Bam ⦠and Wing and Heat.”
Spray Can pulled his dog back and looked out the window at the four of us picking ourselves up.
“What are you doin'?”
“We came to talk to you,” Bam said. “Where's your pop?”
“He's gone,” Spray Can said. “He had to go up to Idaho to pick up a differential. He won't be back till tomorrow.”
“He left you alone?” Taco Bell asked.
“Yeah,” Spray Can answered casually. “He always does. Go around to the front and I'll open the door.”
Spray Can's place was like you'd a thought it to be from the outside: a gas station. He opened the garage door and Bob came running out, but once he saw he was outnumbered, he just stood nervously and let Heat's dogs sniff him. He returned the sniffs and it seemed like everything was okay. Inside the garage there were parts and tools everywhere. In the hallway outside his room there was a small fridge, a hot plate, and a coffee maker.
“Anybody want coffee?” he offered.
No one did. We just stood there looking at all the junk and rags and calendars with girls in bikinis on them. I wondered what a girl that looked like that would want to do with tools, but I don't think it occurred to Taco Bell. He couldn't take his eyes off a skinny blonde holding a muffler and wearin' nothin' but her nightclothes, and there wasn't much of those.
“Wow,” Taco Bell said. “Does she work here?”
“âCourse she does,” Spray Can said. “Why do you think that picture's there for?”
Taco Bell was speechless. For weeks after that he bugged us to get back to Spray Can's during the day. When we finally did go back, he was more disappointed than a kid who's found nothin' in his stocking at Christmas time.
“It was a good game you played Saturday,” Bam finally said. “You knocked over lots of people â¦
bam!
”
bam!
”
“Yeah,” said Heat. “Some of 'em were even on the other team.”
Heat doesn't have much patience for losin'. He's always been a good running back without a line. It's hard to win games by yourself.
“Guess I was kinda confused some of the time,” Spray Can said, feelin' bad about the game.
“Well, that's why we're here,” Bam said. “We think you hit awful hard. If we could just get you to hit the right player, well â¦
bam!
⦠we think you could be good.”
bam!
⦠we think you could be good.”
“Really?” asked Spray Can.
“Yeah, really,” said Taco Bell.
“We wouldn't be here if we didn't think so,” said Bam. “Get me, get me some of them lug nuts and bolts.”
Spray Can hurried over to a pan of bolts and brought back a handful. Bam set 'em up like an offense
then set a bolt for Spray Can in the middle of the defense.
then set a bolt for Spray Can in the middle of the defense.
“Okay, so here you are,” said Bam. “Right in the middle. That means you gotta make most of the tackles. To do that, you gotta know where the ball is goin'. So who's gonna tell you that?”
“I don't know,” Spray Can answered. “I just kinda go, you know ⦠.”
“That don't work,” Bam said. “You gotta watch the line. See, running backs don't like to run alone. They like lots of company in front of 'em. So watch the guards, here and here.”
Bam pointed to the two lug nuts that were the offensive guards.
“See, if they back up, it's a pass. If they fire left, it's a run left, right it's a run right.”
“Then,” said Heat. “You gotta look for the ball carrier. He's usually behind the other back headed the same direction as the guards. Except on the counters and reverses.”
“Right,” said Bam. “We'll show you.”
Bam set up an offense then, with Taco Bell as the center and guard, and me and Heat as the running back. We walked through it first, Taco Bell heading left, me takin' the fake, and Heat gettin' the ball, which was a knot of rags. When we started pickin' up the speed, we ran out of space pretty quick, so Spray Can opened the garage
door and pulled out a few of the cars to make more room. He didn't think much of it, but we were all pretty much amazed at watchin' him drive. He said he done it all the time to help out Ray.
door and pulled out a few of the cars to make more room. He didn't think much of it, but we were all pretty much amazed at watchin' him drive. He said he done it all the time to help out Ray.
Anyway, with more room, we worked on the pass, the fake, the dive, the draw. Spray Can caught on pretty fast. Once he tackled Heat into a pile of empty oil-can boxes. Heat didn't say anything about that. I'd a thought he'd jump up and tell Spray Can to save the hits for the game. But he didn't. He smiled like a proud father, then went back to running plays.
It was pretty late when we finished. We were havin' a good time, more fun than we'd had on the football field for a long time. It made us remember why we played football in the first place: 'cause it was fun.
“You're gettin' it,” Bam said to Spray Can. “Too bad Ray ain't here.”
“Wouldn't matter,” Spray Can said.
“What do you mean?” I asked him.
“Just wouldn't matter, that's all.”
I didn't know what he was talkin' about until the next game, when I looked around for Ray and didn't find him. Seems Ray had no interest in Spray Can at all.
We left Spray Can and his dog Bob all breathin'
hard from the game that night. Bob was as tired as any of us 'cause he was so old. He couldn't muster up a bark when we walked out the door. It was past midnight, but we weren't sleepy. We took the rag ball with us and tossed it all the way home, laughin' and scorin' touchdowns. Maybe we even dreamed of winning. Maybe.
hard from the game that night. Bob was as tired as any of us 'cause he was so old. He couldn't muster up a bark when we walked out the door. It was past midnight, but we weren't sleepy. We took the rag ball with us and tossed it all the way home, laughin' and scorin' touchdowns. Maybe we even dreamed of winning. Maybe.
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