Date: Tue, 28 Mar 2017 12:13:55 -0500 From: Eric Trager Subject: It Is What It Is: Chapter 38A Please don't forget to donate to Nifty if you enjoy reading the stories! Email feedback can be sent to trager2275@gmail.com. © 2015 by Eric Trager. Yahoo group: https://groups.yahoo.com/IIWII NOTE: Chapters 38 and 39 will both be released in two parts (A & B). This will allow me the time I need for the ending I want to get to on Chapter 40. I decided to do it this way so that readers wouldn't have to wait unduly for story updates. Thank you for your understanding. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT, PART A Coach Slater bent down picking up the piece of paper looking around for the closest trash can in which to deposit it. Taking a quick glance at the paper he spied the heading, "Game Plan for Championship." Looking closer, he noted it was an outline with some remarks penciled here and there. Reading it over, Coach Slater saw that the game plan essentially banked on Tim to be the starting Quarterback and that their game would rely on what got them to the Championship, namely it would be based on the running game. Coach shook his head at the bad luck of the Neenah Coach for having dropped a piece of his paperwork, but as with anything else in life the Coach used one of his favorite sayings: Shit Happens. The paper he scanned mentioned nothing about Neenah's defensive strategy and on balance wasn't that much of a help. A team that good, he was sure, should be able to compensate for having to play against an unexpected Quarterback. Hitting the field, Coach Slater and his team noted that on the Home Team side, for the Cougars played this game as the Home Team, the stands had a good showing of blue and white. Not as many as for the last two games played at Monterrey, but noticeably more than were on the Neenah side. He estimated at least 10,000 Cougar fans. In terms of the crowd Camp Randall Stadium was full to its 80,321 capacity. Not an empty seat in the house. After the pre-game warmups, Coach readied his team on elast time. "Gentlemen, if we win the toss we'll elect to defer and we'll do an onside kick. Nobody will be looking for that as the opening move, and that's why we spent so much time practicing it the last couple of weeks. Other than that, each man do his job. That is all." Out for the coin-flip, the referees advised the opposing Captains, and the Governor of Wisconsin came out to toss the coin. "Good luck, guys!" he said as he flipped the coin. Neenah won the toss and elected to receive. The signal given to the Cougar bench, the kickoff team ran onto the field to start the game. They lined up in classic kickoff formation not giving away that this would be an onside kick. The whistle blew, and they were off. The kicker hiked the ball high up in the air and it went the required ten yards down the field. The Red Rockets were caught completely off guard without a man close to the ball. The ball thudded to the ground, bounced twice and landed square in front of Brett whose quickness allowed him to be in place. Rather than fall on the ball, Brett picked it up and ran. He made it an additional twelve yards down the field before being brought down to loud boos from the Neenah fan section. The move netted the Cougars starting field position at their own 45-yard line. Sean knew he'd need a touchdown here in order to get out to an early lead. To him, a lead is important in any game, but doubly so in a Championship game, as the opponents would feel put on the back foot. He had no way to know that the Red Rockets were expecting Tim and not him. Tim called the plays and in classic season-long style, the Cougars opened with the Power Sweep. Since Sean was left-handed, the sweep ran the opposite way it would have if Tim, a righty, were in, and it worked for a solid ten-yard gain and a first down. For the next play, Sean lined up in shotgun formation with a full complement of receivers. On the snap, he rolled out of the pocket, but again in the opposite direction Neenah expected. He had more than adequate time to find a man open, and he found Brett down near the ten-yard line with nobody on him. Drilling the ball to Brett at a speed that made catching it difficult, Brett nevertheless latched onto it and made for the end zone, crossing the line still standing. After a little more than one minute of playing time, the score stood Craig 7, Neenah 0 once the Cougars made the extra point kick. The Cougar stands were ecstatic in their cheering while the Neenah fans were gob smacked, some regarding the opening onside kick as dirty play. This time for the kickoff, the Cougars kicked conventionally and Neenah ran it back for decent starting field position at their own 32-yard line. In possession of the ball, the Red Rockets were formidable. Both their running and passing attacks gave the Cougar Defense fits, primarily due to the quality of their offensive line. The Red Rockets were methodically moving the ball down the field and looked set fair to score a touchdown of their own. Burning seven minutes off the clock, Neenah had marched the ball down to a first-and-ten at the Cougar 22-yard line. The Cougar Defense knew that they needed to make a stand then and there. And they did. On first down, they stopped the Neenah Fullback two yards behind the line of scrimmage. On the next play, Brett batted down a pass intended for the Neenah receiver who was already in the end zone. On third down, Neenah was stopped again and had to settle for a field goal leaving the Cougars still in charge 7-3. On their next possession, the Cougars scored again relying on their running game with a mind toward eating up clock time. Coach Slater observed that Neenah's passing game was not completely effective against the Cougar defensive backfield and was content to rely on his solid ground attack on offense. Neenah played it the same way, relying on their running game deeming their passing game to be out- defended, hoping to tire out the Cougars. Back and forth the game went until halftime when the score stood Craig 14 – Neenah 10. At that same moment, Ginny's Mercedes glided into the parking lot of the Janesville Country Club. Entering the building she made her way down to the basement entering the Founders Room. Awaiting her already were Bill Kennedy and his long-suffering Attorney, Ed Steele. She timed it to make sure they'd sit there stewing for a few minutes before she made her entrance. "Good afternoon, boys. I see you made bail, Bill," Ginny tartly observed. "Let's just get down to business, shall we?" Bill Kennedy sat silently with a murderous look of contempt on his face. Attorney Steele motioned Ginny to go ahead. "Alright, then... Bill, I've been in contact with your brother in Chicago. I made him aware of the birth certificate and that he, not you, is the rightful owner of the construction company." "You CUNT!" Kennedy spat. "I might be a cunt, but I'm still your mother, Billy Boy, and you're gonna shut the fuck up and listen to what I have to say because if you don't I'll see to it that by this time next week you're a pauper and we'll just add fraud to the little list of things you've already got on your plate to answer for. Am I being clear?" "Are you threatening my client?" Attorney Steele asked. At that, an outraged Ginny pounded the table with her fist, eyes ablaze. "Don't fuck with me, fellas! This ain't my first time at the rodeo..." [https://youtu.be/h4UTxAeUiwU] "Perhaps we misjudged your interest in the matter..." Steele said. Ginny continued. "Smooth as ever I see, Ed. Anyway, as I said, I've been in touch with your brother. I've brought him up to speed on everything that's been going on around here lately. Needless to say, he wasn't impressed." "That's it? You called me down here to tell me my brother's not impressed? What the hell kind of bullshit is this?" "I was being polite, Bill. I'll just save us all a lot of time and bottom line it. He's got no interest in running that company, however it is a matter of some concern to him that he's the rightful owner. See, he might be younger than you are, but he's the legitimate male heir, not you. We both also know you altered your father's will, so there's that, too. Anyway, here's the deal: he's gonna be a sport about it and buy the company from you. And you are going to sell it to him. For $10 million. You can either stay and run it just like you are now, only for a salary, serving at your brother's pleasure and be paid the $10 million in three years to boogie, or you can take the money now and retire. That's the choice you have. And it's not negotiable." "You fucking BITCH!" Kennedy bellowed while Steele motioned him to calm down. "Shut it, Bill. Your brother's pissed. That's what I'd concentrate on right now If I were you. He's pissed because you cheated him, but mostly because you cheated your dad. Your brother woulda kept the company and let you run it. You'd still be a big shot, you'd still be rich, but no, you hadda get cute about it. You broke the law. You acted like your shit doesn't stink. Your brother got the last laugh because he ended up wealthier than you are anyway. He can buy and sell you and today he's buying. So...in exchange for taking the deal, the D.A. will drop all the charges against you except Disorderly Conduct. I'm sure you understand I hadda throw him at least some kind of a bone... You decide yes, we move ahead. You decide no, your ass is mine and you'll fucking lose everything you have. You'll be in jail, and I'll personally see to it, trust me. You got exactly twenty-four hours to make up your mind. The paperwork's ready to file in Court. That's all I have to say." "I suppose we'll hear from Dickson then at some point?" Steele asked. "Nope," Ginny said. "I wouldn't put George in that position. I've got a Chicago Attorney on the case. He's a real beaut, too. You know...one of those badass assholes that hates rich folks but loves money so he gets his rich clients to sue other rich people. This kind of fraud shit is right up his alley. He'll be in touch. I'm sure you'll get along just fine." With that, Ginny stood to leave the room. Pausing for theatrical effect, Ginny turned back to Kennedy and Steele. "Just one more thing... Part of the deal here is that you will never have any contract with any of the Wymans ever again, and that includes your unborn grandsons who I remind you will also be MY great-grandsons. Sean Wyman will have sole custody of them. And you are to have nothing to do with the youngest Wyman boy either, who's dating Kathleen. That's also not negotiable. Not one fucking RCH.* I'll be sitting by the phone. Twenty-four hours, boys... Tick-tock. Tick-tock." Ginny then stalked out of the room. Making her way up the stairs she was satisfied she's won once again. Kennedy had no wiggle room this time and she knew that he knew that. At the beginning of the second half the Cougars received the Neenah kickoff. Sean and the Offense ran out onto the field hoping to extend their lead. At halftime, only a few adjustments were made to the game plan and the team was reasonably confident of leaving Madison with the Championship Trophy. Sean reasoned that on this possession if the Cougars cold manage another touchdown, while not being the absolute dagger that would make the win inevitable, it would nonetheless make it a two-score game and put the Cougars chances of winning at something like 85%. He also reasoned that in terms of game management the wise course of action would be to concentrate on running the ball and chew up game time now that they were in the home stretch. A steady, measured slog down the field could get the Cougars the score, and use up probably seven minutes of time. And that is how Tim called the plays, too. The drive progressed as planned. Slowly, yet purposefully the ball was moved down the field. Presently, the Cougars found themselves unusually in a third-and-long situation. Third-and-seven at the Neenah 39-yard line. Down and distance dictated a passing play this time, and while Sean preferred not to have to do that the reality of the matter was that there didn't exist a satisfactory alternative. Lining up under center, Sean hoped to at least somewhat fool the Neenah Defense into thinking the upcoming play would be another run. Eyeballing the Neenah Defense told Sean that they weren't buying what he was selling. The situation dictated an audible. Sean switched to the shotgun formation, called the new play and counted the snap. Ball snapped, he faded back to pass but the receivers were having difficulty getting open. Concentrating on finding a man open, Sean missed the fact that the Neenah Defensive End once shed of his receiver had crossed the line of scrimmage making a beeline toward him from behind. Reaching Sean, the Neenah defender, much larger than Sean at 6'4" and 240 pounds flattened Sean like a pancake, and with helmet-to-helmet contact, for a loss of eight yards. Sean had the wind knocked out of him, and for a few seconds was out cold. Coming to, he saw stars, ears ringing and shoulder immobile. An injury timeout was called and Coach Slater and the team Trainer ran onto the field to assess the condition of their Quarterback. Sean was face down on the turf and not moving. They flipped him over and sat him up. The Trainer noted that Sean's eyes were unfocused. "Wyman!" the Trainer barked. "How many fingers do I have up?" he asked holding up his index and middle fingers. "Um, four?" Sean guessed. Turning to Coach Slater, the Trainer said, "Let's get him off the field." The Trainer and Coach Slater each slung one of Sean's arms over their shoulders and hoisted up the 190- pound body of their exemplary Quarterback to begin the walk off the field. Both men noted that Sean's steps were unsteady and wobbly, and that if they were to attempt to get him to walk off under his own power it was more likely than not that he'd fall down. Coach Slater looked at the Trainer whispering, "I don't like what I see." The Trainer signaled his silent agreement by shaking his head. Back on the sidelines, Coach Slater sent his punting team in as field position was too far away to attempt a field goal. The Trainer seated Sean on the bench, proceeding to give him a few more quick tests. Sean's responses were slow and his eyes still not totally focusing, or properly following a pen in circles. Placing Sean's head between his knees and telling him to stay that way for a little while, the Trainer made his way over to Coach Slater. "Not liking this, Bob. If I didn't know better, I'd say he's had a concussion. In fact, the way he looks I think he's had one recently. I think maybe he got one in the Rufus King game and the Doctor didn't detect it." "Will he be able to play?" "Right now, no. Maybe in a little bit. But only barely maybe. He hasn't thrown up which is a good sign, but in the condition he's in at this moment, he couldn't even take a snap. He's that uncoordinated..." "Dickson!' Coach Slater barked. Running over, Tim stood in front of his Coach. "Mister Dickson, it appears that Mister Wyman may not be able to play. You tell me honestly if you can, or not." "I can throw, Coach, but with my left arm I'm not sure how well I could take a snap, or control the ball until I throw. Can I hand off? Yeah, if I don't drop the ball... Look, if Wymo can't play..." "Thank you, Mister Dickson. Let's get Mister Krieger over here." Referring to Kris Krieger the Cougar Jayvee Quarterback who was brought along in case of an emergency. "Yes, Coach?" Kris Krieger replied. Kris was a Sophomore. He played in all the Jayvee games that season, but never in a Varsity game and never mind a game for the State Championship against another Division I undefeated team. "Mister Krieger, I'm sorry son but it appears that Mister Wyman may not be able to finish the game. We've got doubts also as to Mister Dickson's fitness to play. If I put you in at Quarterback, how confident would you be?" "I'd try my best, Coach. I gotta be honest, though, I'm no Dickson or Wyman out there..." "Very well," Coach Slater replied. "On our next possession, I'll send in Mister Dickson and we'll just see how that goes. I want both of you to start warming up." Tim and Kris nodded to Coach, trotting off to begin their warmups. On the way, Tim stopped to have a couple words with Sean. Plopping down next to him on the bench, Tim looked at his stricken friend. "You gonna be OK, bud?" "I gotta get back in the game, Dix!" Sean said, now sitting up straight. "I gotta..." "Let's see what happens next possession and what Coach says. I'm probably only 50%, but I'll do the best I can. You callin' the plays?" "I guess so... I'll see..." Sean stood up, slapped Tim on the back and made his way over to Coach Slater. "Coach?" Sean said. END CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT, PART A *RCH is an acronym meaning "Red Cunt Hair." It is typically used for emphasis when denoting the smallest unit of measurement known to man.