Date: Tue, 9 Jan 2001 21:12:30 -0500 From: Nails Nelson Subject: Chapter 10, Basketball Camp Warning: This story contains sexual implications between an adult man and two teenagers. This episode has NO overt or specific sex, but if you are underage or upset by homosexuality, LEAVE! All others, Enjoy! No WAY, Coach! The Bagboy, Chap. 10 by Bob Nelson "What the HELL is going on, here?" the Head Coach says, barging into the main Gym. He looks at each of us, then around the entryway, trying to find something illegal or immoral that we're doing. He scowls. angry that he didn't catch us doing something wrong. "What are all three of you doing here, anyway?" he thunders. "I came in to use the toilet, like I signalled you," Charlie responds. "So did we, a few minutes after he did," David resonds as I nod. "Then we noticed he was blinking like he got something in his eye." Then looking more closely at Charlie's face, he scowls, squints, runs a finger down Charlie's cheek and asks "What's that? Have you been CRYING, for God's sake!?!?" "Hell no, Coach! Some dust blew up just as I came in here, made my eyes water. I'm going to wash it out if you stop interrogating us like criminals." "What the fuck did you say?" the Coach roars. "He asked why are you treating us like we're suspects or criminals?" David replies. That adds fuel to the Coach's fire. Gasoline, in fact. "You will NOT ask what I'm doing or why! You are here to listen, learn and obey me!" he snaps. "When did God step down and tell you to take over?" I ask, taking one step toward him, hands at my side but steel in my glance -- at least I hope it's steel and not noodles. "WHAT? Who the fuck are you to talk to me like that?" he roars, about 40 decibels louder than before. "I'm a Professor on this campus, and one of your hosts -- which means you are one of our invited guests, just like these boys are. No less, but certainly NO MORE!!" I reply, using the Bos'n's Mate voice Dad used on the pier or the Parade Ground. "And I don't have to take ANY OF YOUR SHIT, MISTER!" "I'm the Head Coach, and in CHARGE of this Basketball Camp, which means I RUN it, ANY WAY I SEE FIT! That means all the other coaches and ALL THE BOYS will LISTEN to me and DO WHAT I SAY! Any wuss or wimp, or anyone who talks back WILL be disciplined!" I lower my voice to just above a whisper, but use a stage whisper for it to carry -- another technique Dad used in tense situations. You can't out-holler these Bull-headed, Bull-necked Bullies, anyway, "Just what the FUCK do you mean by discipline?" "YOU can't talk to ME like that! NOBODY cusses at ME!" "I have more right to talk to you when you're acting like a shithead than YOU have to fuck around, cursing these young BOYS! But I repeat, just what in Hell do YOU mean by DISCIPLINE?" "It means JUST WHAT I WANT IT TO MEAN! If a boy messes up or interrupts me, he will drop and give me ten pushups -- or twenty. No sissy fags, no fuck-ups and no losers at THIS Basketball Camp." "Does that mean you are the Leader of the Basketball Camp and make ALL the decisions of right and wrong?" "DAMNED RIGHT it does!" "Did you get the top job because you're better, or just better at shouting and intimidating people? NO one is right all the time, and I can call you down on this one point because you ARE wrong when you curse these boys! They can't answer back, even if they disagree. You'll break the spirit of some and they may never amount to anything, if you humiliate them publicly!" He glowers at me, glances at both boys to make sure they aren't laughing at him, but says nothing. "Does a Leader lead better by words or by example?" I ask, even more softly. "A Leader learns to DO it, then teaches others to do it! Sometimes I use words and other times I have one of my Assistant Coaches show the boys what I mean," he says, in a more normal tone. "And you show them all the moves and techniques before Camp starts?" I ask, leading him on. "No. I pick the ones who know how to handle the ball, make the moves, fake, block and shoot. I don't have time to teach them stuff that any Coach should know," he says, a little louder. "You don't demonstrate exact details, even to the Assistant Coaches?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. "Hell, NO. I know it. They know I know it, and they can do it right to show the boys how to do it right!" "Do you teach Driver's Ed at your school, or have you taught it?" I ask, apparently veering off the matter at hand. "No, I don't. I used to, when I first started as Coach there. What's THAT got to do with it?" he replies with more storm clouds rising. "Just that teaching is a skill of encouraging any student to want to excel, but they have to know the goal you have in mind -- then they need feedback to let them know if they're getting closer to it. Or is that different in Driver's Ed and Basketball?" "Of COURSE that's the way we teach them, and the way we run this Camp! You've seen us praising the boys who have done it best, and telling the ones how to do it better who didn't get it right. David and Charlie are two of the best, and I KNOW you heard me and the other coaches telling them that!" "Yes, I did. I have told the boys that I admire the way you praise in public what's good and generally take the boys aside -- or have an Assistant Coach quietly take them aside -- to tell and show them what to do to make or stop the play. THAT is what teaching or coaching is all about. What I'm asking you NOW is who do you think you are to come barging in to this place or any place to shout and curse at these boys, trying to intimidate them and accusing them, and possibly me, of some nefarious, immoral behavior. DId you suspect a Bomb Plot, or an Insurrection to depose you?" I ask, letting a smile spread across my face to show I'm facetious on that last question. This "Bad Cop -- Good Cop" routine keeps him off balance, if done right. He's trying to decide how to answer. I've complimented him then turned around and implied -- hell, I've STATED that he's a poor leader to tear down the boys whom he's been building up the past three days. David and Charlie are looking from me to the Coach and back, heads swinging back and forth like they're at a tennis match, trying to figure out if I'm pissed, if I'm going to fight him, if he's pissed or about to whomp up on all of us, or WHAT. I turn my head directly toward David, past Charlie, looking more than ninety degrees away from the Coach, then wink and let the corner of my mouth farthest from the Coach twitch up and back down. They both catch on with a sudden look of comprehension, but quickly cover it to look like they are still cowed by the King Kong tactics of the Coach. Since he's a little unsure whether I'm attacking or praising him, I go on, "Why DID you come barging in here like that, Coach?" "I thought something was -- might be wrong." "WHAT did you suspect, Coach?" "That the boys -- that you and the boys might -- to make sure that there wasn't any funny stuff going on in here," he finishes lamely. "FUNNY STUFF? What KIND of funny stuff, Coach?" I ask, leaning forward with an angry glint in my eyes. (The BEST defense is an offense!! Just ask all the quarterbacks in those Bowl games!) "You know -- hanky panky, foolin' around...." he replies even more limply. "No, I DON'T know. Boys, do YOU know what Coach is trying NOT to tell us?" I ask in as frosty a voice as I can manage. "No, Dr. Nelson." "No, Sir, I don't have any idea." {Good boys, and I'm proud neither one said "Bob."} "Do you mean something illegal, like drugs, guns, or alcohol, or do you mean something immoral, like having some young girls or old hookers in here for the boys -- or some boys in here for them?? Boys, did either of you bring any of those things in here, or did I? Or did I promise or imply that you could have them if you came up here??" "No, Sir! Nothing like that!" "No way, Dr. Nelson!" "How often DO you check the locker rooms, Coach, and what do you check FOR? Hoping to find something going on and bust them, or just to get your kicks by watching?" "No Fucking WAY!" Coach is starting to sweat, now. He wanted to do the Joe McCarthy routine of Bluster and Bully, but the Coach doesn't have a U.S. Senate Committee or Special Prosecutor to put the fear of God into whomever he picks on. And he certainly is not big and mean enough to do it all by himself. Thank God I learned to cover my tracks, NEVER to let anyone know what my thinking or motives are --- except this man-boy standing next to me. My David -- and Charlie too, for the most part -- have followed my leads and twists to put the Coach solidly on defense, inside his own five yard line, ten points behind, and less than a minute to play. Oh, yeah, I should use a basketball analogy, but my Dad and brother raised me to know a lot more about football -- and that's not much. But it's more than I know about Basketball.... "Coach, I admire the way you have organized this Camp. It's the best I've seen in eight years of watching them and I've told the boys that. Your assistants are all talented and I have seen ALL of you praise the boys when they do well, individually or together. THAT's what they'll all take home with them to be better players for their schools. DON'T destroy it with susecting good boys of being bad, cursing, singling out a boy who isn't as good, or humiliating anyone! It can sour the whole weekend in a heartbeat." "Well, I'm sorry if I upset you boys, or YOU, Dr. Nelson. It's just that I'm responsible for all the boys who come to Basketball Camp, and if a couple head off and are out of sight for more than a few minutes I get kind of antsy. All the Assistant Coaches were running plays, so I came up here myself. Sorry I did, now. You won't tell the College Athletic Director, will you?" Aha! Good Cop -- Bad Cop and Dad's voices of command, reason, and probing worked well, again! "No, Coach. It IS your job and your responsibility to insure the safety of every boy here. BUT I want to say again that you were WRONG to barge in here like a bull, and DOUBLY WRONG to curse when you did! Do you agree?" "Well, yeah, I kinda see that maybe it wasn't the best thing to --" "BULLSHIT! It was WRONG! Don't you AGREE? That it was WRONG, Coach??" He jumps like I'd hit him with a cattle prod, but I'm damned if I'm going to let him harass or scare these great young guys, or weasle out of the situation that could have ruined all three of us. "Oh, Yes, Sir, Dr. Nelson. I agree. I was wrong. Dead wrong to come barging in AND wrong to curse. I'm sorry, boys," he says to them, then "I'm sorry, Dr. Nelson. I hope you will all forgive me. I've got to get back to the courts. We're almost done. Boys, your team is up, next. Are you ready to play?" Seldom have I seen or heard a man go from loud and obnoxious to meek and mild so quickly. I stick out my hand. "Apology accepted and all is forgotten. In fact, nothing even happened in here, did it boys?" "What? Nothing happened that I heard." "I didn't see or hear ANYthing!" They each shake the coach's hand with a smile -- the boys smile, not the coach's hand. "We'll hurry and be right back." "Yeah, Coach... be right there!" He goes out the door and we all wait, aware that each of us is counting -- "eight, nine, TEN!" David counts, hollering the final number. We all start laughing as silently as we can, but letting out all the tension that had built up. I sag, Charlie leans against the wall, and David bends over almost touching his shins with his head. Great gasps and panting huffs, ANYthing to keep it from sounding like laughter, just in case the Coach is not that far away. "Go on, guys, do what you've got to do, wash your faces, and LET'S SEE you play some INTENSE BASKETBALL!" They zip into the latrine area, I hear their streams hitting the water, two flushes, the sound of water running in the basins, paper towels ripped off, and here they are back, in less than thirty seconds. They look like they've just had a walk in the park, not a near-death experience. These lads are MY responsibility, even more than the Coach's, and I'm pretty sure Charlie has figured out everything that David and I have done, talked about or thought about -- he probably thinks we've done more than we have, but he is one of us, one with us, so I will build and strengthen this wall around us. Teach them some ways to fight back if someone else accuses them of anything without proof, or tries to panic them into admitting to something. A "fishing expedition" Dad used to call it, when loud-mouthed guys try to scare weak ones into admitting something that the bully can use against them. "Thanks, Bob!" David says, as he runs back in, leans up and give me a quick kiss on my lips before I can pull back. Hell, I didn't WANT to pull back, and I stop my hand halfway to my face, before my reflex action wipes off the kiss. Charlie blindsides me while I'm still looking at my David with love in my eyes. He kisses me just off dead-center, with a kiss that's a lot more than a "dutiful peck on the cheek for an uncle." I don't wipe that one off, either. Eye candy plus lip candy, for later. "YEAH, Bob! Thanks for pulling it out of the fire!" Charlie says as he heads for the door. I reply, "You both know I'd do ANYthing for you -- except go before the Spanish Inquisition he was trying to use! Now, I want to see some BASKETBALL!" We fling open the gym door and the boys race back to the court, calling to their team mates, whooping and shouting how they are going to mow down and mop up the opposition. None of the other mini teams can make themselves heard over David, Charlie, Enzio, Tony and Pete. The Ferocious Five! Spike and I settle in to watch the final game of this Baskektball Camp with mixed emotions. Did all of this happen in just three days? Two and one half! No, just over 48 hours! They got here Friday at noon and will leave today, Sunday, at 2 P.M. So fast, so much has happened -- but in some ways it went slowly. A real time warp, like in the best science fiction! There they are, MY team, ready for the jump to start the game... my David set, looking like Michelangelo's statue brought to glorious life, even more gorgeous and alive than he did just 48 hours ago. And what's next? How will he set his Dad up to "remember" me? When will they come visit? How can I set up an early admission for David -- and Charlie if he wants to come here, too? Will their friendship grow stronger as a result of this weekend, or will it be shaken? Will they ever experiment with each other sexually -- or with other guys -- or with girls? SO many possible paths ahead of us all, but especially those two handsome boys. That handsome Charlie and my beautiful man-boy, David. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = What's next? Will David's Dad accept Bob as an old friend, wonder about it, or reject him as some pervert trying to get into David's pants? Will David and Charlie have sex -- or does Charlie want all to do it with Bob AND David, together? "Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice how not to conceive!" Feedback, please! Send it to Nails, at NailsB69@hotmail.com -- I answer each one. To get each chapter sooner, plus lots of pictures of handsome, naked, guys in all sorts of action, come join us at Gay Vikings: http://communities.msn.com/GayVikings -- and say "Coming in from Basketball Camp" when asked why you want to join.