Date: Tue, 4 Apr 2017 21:59:40 -0500 From: Eric Trager Subject: It Is What It Is: Chapter 39 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 CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE Sean, even in his present condition, had the field skills to observe that the Line Judge was intermittently derelict in judging the line of scrimmage. And using those field skills, in the huddle he had instructed his Right Guard to take advantage of the breaks of the game if the opportunity presented itself. As it turned out, the opportunity presented itself. Sean's Center snapped the ball as ordered, his Right Guard took off a fraction of a second before the ball was actually snapped, albeit so little before that it would have been perceptible only on a slow-motion replay camera of the type which a High School football game, even a Championship game, would not be equipped. So far, so good... Sean's ruse in barking out the call for the Power Sweep worked. The Neenah Defense keyed on Sean's left side anticipating the sweep that never came. The Cougar Right Guard succeeded in opening a hole for Sean. But only the tiniest of holes. Sean saw the hole. Again, his eyes were failing him and not focusing. In a matter of a couple nanoseconds he judged the distance he needed to go and how far he'd need to run before simply extending his body forward would take the ball over the plane of the goal line and win the game. His vision worsened more. He felt his balance going. Wobbling on one leg he summoned all of his strength, cradled the ball and lunged forward. "CRACK!" Sean felt the jolt of helmet-to-helmet contact. His head felt as if it was shattering. He fell to the ground, arms extended but still hanging on to the ball. He began to fade out. In his in-and-out state of consciousness he heard the roar of the crowd, but he could not tell if it was the Red Rocket, or Cougar stands cheering. He had literally given it all he had. There was nothing left. He threw up. Consciousness left him. Coming to at some later point, it took Sean a little while to remember where he was. He was in a room by himself adjoining the main locker room. He was alone. He could hear low voices, noise and buzzing in the locker room, but couldn't make it out through the cinder block walls and steel door. After a few more minutes he felt steady enough to stand up. Still in his uniform and pads he exited the room making his way into the main locker room. All eyes turned to Sean as he entered the room. The room fell silent. Sean looked around at his team mates and his heart sank. He knew by their looks that they'd lost and he had to own it. He walked into the center of the room, looked his team mates in the eyes and began. "I'm sorry guys. We gave it all we had. That last play was all I had left in me. I gave it my best shot. It's my fault. I'm really sorry, guys..." One could have heard a pin drop. Not one person moved, or drew a breath. Again, Sean's heart sank. He hung his head. For what seemed like an eternity not one person moved or made a sound. Presently, Coach Slater cleared his throat. "Mister Wyman, in the last play of the game you sustained a blow to the head. We managed to walk you off the field but you were pretty much out of it. You will be transported to Madison General Hospital shortly where you will spend the evening under observation, but I'd like you to delay for a few minutes. There is one thing left to do." Sean looked up, looked at Coach Slater not knowing what on Earth he was talking about. "Mister Wyman, in five minutes the team is to reappear on the field. The reason for that is that we will be accepting the Championship Trophy. The last play was a touchdown, son. You won the game for us." "What?" Sean whispered. "That's correct, Mister Wyman, we won. "The final score was 21-17. We are the 2014 Division I State Football Champions. Now, I want to know if you feel well enough to accept the trophy on behalf of the team and perhaps say a few words. If you don't, I'm sure we all understand and someone else will accept the trophy. But if you do feel well enough, you've earned the right and that was by a unanimous vote of your team mates." Sean, initially taken aback, broke into a smirk and indicated that he would indeed accept on behalf of the team. Once back on the field, Sean and Coach Slater ascended a stage facing the Cougar stands. The Commissioner of the WIAA took the microphone. "On behalf of the WIAA we're here to present the 2014 Division I Football trophy. Now, normally I present the trophy, but I was told earlier that there was a gentleman in the stands who is an outstanding Alumnus of Craig High School and he has graciously accepted the job of presenting the trophy. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the Speaker of the United States House of Representatives and a member of the Craig class of 1989." The Speaker mounted the stage, his tall, slim figure loping toward the front. He nodded at the team with his usual boyish grin, took the microphone and with his trademark mischevious laugh said, "Guys, Janesville's proud of you tonight. That was a helluva game! Now, I'm sorry to have to do this to everyone, but sitting next to me in the stands was a guy who unlike me doesn't need an introduction. I bet him that if you won the game he'd present the trophy tonight. Besides, you'd rather hear from him than me anyway. Here he is. The Quarterback of the Green Bay Packers, Aaron Rodgers." The entire stadium erupted at the vision of the Super Bowl MVP Quarterback and Wisconsin hero ascending to the stage. "Good evening, Madison!" Rodgers said in his folksy Northern California drawl. "Good job, guys. You played a barn-burner of a game. I understand that your Quarterback is injured and needs to see a Doctor. I've been there myself, so I won't delay. Sean Wyman!" Sean stepped forward. Rodgers grinned his signature toothy grin and Sean smirked his signature smirk. The two men looked eye-to-eye and shook hands. Sean had an odd feeling that somehow they'd met before. "On behalf of the WIAA I present the Janesville Craig Cougars with the 2014 Division I Championship trophy." Sean shook Rodgers' hand again and took the trophy to the explosion of the crowd. "Here you go..." Rodgers whispered, handing Sean the microphone. Sean held the trophy high for the crowd to see, even in his pain ever the showman. He gave the crowd what they came to see. He took the microphone and in as strong and clear of a voice as he could muster addressed a huge, roaring, on-their-feet Cougar crowd. "Thank you... Thank you..." Sean said into the microphone. The crowd silenced somewhat. "Thank you, Mr. Speaker and thank you, Mr. Rodgers. First of all, and this needs to be said, on behalf of the Craig Cougars I'd like to give the respect of our whole team to the Neenah Red Rockets. This was the toughest game we had all year. To the Red Rockets players and Coaches, you should be proud. It was our honor to be able to play a team as good as you are. "I'm grateful and humbled that I'd be the one chosen to stand here on behalf of our team to accept this trophy, but I'm not the right guy. "You see, not only does this trophy belong equally to each and every guy on our team, it also belongs to our Coaches, our parents, our teachers, our school, and to the entire City of Janesville. "You, all of you, believed in us. "Most of all, though, this trophy belongs to our starting Quarterback, Tim Dickson, because without Dix I wouldn't be standing here tonight. "A week ago, Dix stood between me and a bullet that had my name on it. I wasn't meant to see this day. Because of that, because of his selfless courage, Dix couldn't be out on the field with us tonight for most of the game, but without his play-calling, without his support to all of us, and without him pushing us on like nobody else can, I'm not sure we'd have made it. "So, if there is only one hero on this team, that hero is Tim Dickson. We dedicated tonight's game to Dix and to our Manager, Andy Churchill, who was just diagnosed with Leukemia. These two guys are the heart of our team. The rest of us couldn't have done it without either one of them. Get up here, guys. This trophy is for you. "Thank you." Tim mounted the stage, with Andy at this side and the rest of the team behind them. The crowd was still on their feet giving an applause that lasted a full five minutes. Sean handed the trophy to Tim who motioned to Andy and they hoisted it together for the home town crowd to see. At that moment, Sean who was standing behind Tim and not in view of the crowd bent over and threw up again. He motioned to Coach Slater that he needed to go. He let Andy know that he was going to the Hospital and that Andy should come back to Madison to pick him up once he was discharged. "I'm sorry, Brown Eyes. I gave it all I had and maybe I did too much. I'll be OK tomorrow..." "Sean-o," Andy said, eyes brimming with both tears and pride, "it's fine. You won. I want you well. That's all that matters." "And, I want you well, too... I love you so..." "I love you more. Now, you go rest up and let them do what they need to do." Battered and bruised, but unbowed, Sean made his way to the waiting Ambulance. He cursed that in victory he should have to be alone. He couldn't blame Andy as it would have been unreasonable to expect him to sit in a Hospital waiting room overnight while he had his head checked for a concussion and if there was one the severity. He so wanted to be with his team mates, but he knew he'd given it his all, he'd mortgaged his health, and he hadn't quit. He'd won. He'd done what he said he would do. On the way to the hospital, Sean felt a little more balanced, but did throw up once in the ambulance. Just bile, and his head still hurt. The Paramedics administered Tylenol with Codeine which ameliorated his suffering somewhat. For his part, Sean wished he had one of Andy's joints to smoke. As he thought of that, he asked that the Ambulance driver stop at the nearest convenience store. "Why would we stop at a store?" The EMT asked. "I'll give you some cash and if it's OK I'd like you to get a couple things for me. I mean, it's not like I'm having a heart attack, or something... This is just a taxi ride if you think about it..." "Well, I guess... Whadya want?" "A bottle of water, a Bic lighter and a pack of Camel Straights." "I don't think they're gonna let you smoke in the Hospital, kid," the EMT said. "I know that, but tomorrow I can have someone take me outside for a smoke. I'll fucking need one..." "I can honestly say I've never had a request like that, but there's a store a few blocks up and we'll stop for you. Gimme the money." Sean handed the EMT a $20 bill and thanked him. At the Hospital, Sean was admitted to a room straight away and examined by a duty Physician. After running through a battery of tests, Sean was informed of that which he already knew: he had a concussion. The Doctor let him know they'd be keeping him overnight for observation and that he'd be discharged at some point the next day with an appointment to report to Mercy Hospital in Janesville for further examination and testing on Monday morning. Exhausted and not wanting to move, Sean fell fast asleep after the Doctor left. In the morning, a Nurse woke him to take his vitals, and an Orderly showed up with his breakfast consisting of juice, a bowl of oatmeal that looked to Sean to be concrete, and some disgusting scrambled eggs. Hungry, though, he ate it all. He was almost finished when there came a knock at the doorway. Looking up, to his surprise Sean saw Kevin Masterson, the Quarterback of the Madison West Regents. "Hey," Kevin said. "What the hell? Howdja know I was here, man..." Sean replied. "I said if you guys got to the Championship game I'd be in the stands... I was there. I saw that last play and I knew you were hurt. On the news, they said you'd been taken to a Hospital in Madison, so I called around. Mad General was the first place I called and they said you were here, so I came to see ya. How you doing?" "I feel better this morning, but I'm still kinda off balance. The headache is gone, or maybe that's just the Codeine, I dunno... Hey, if I get in the wheelchair, you take me outside? I want some fresh air..." "Sure, hop in!" Passing the Nurses Station, Sean called out, "My friend here is taking me outside for some fresh air. We'll be back in a few minutes..." "OK, just don't stay too long. I think the Doctor will be making his rounds in about a half hour." Once outside, Sean asked to be wheeled a good distance away from the entrance to the building. He got out his Camels and lit one up. "I didn't know you smoke..." Kevin said. "I don't much, but there's not much else to do here... I usually have one in the morning and one at night, that's about it..." "Gimme one," Kevin demanded. "You smoke?" "You'll see..." Kevin said as he took the cigarette and hollowed out one end of it, then taking a baggie out of his pocket and filling the empty end with some marijuana. "I think a hit, or two might do you some good... I read up on it, and weed reduces concussion symptoms. You should get a scrip for some medical..." "Jesus Christ, you about read my mind. Fire it up..." Kevin did as asked, and after taking a couple hits Sean actually felt much better. The two boys sat and talked for about twenty minutes, Sean reminding Kevin that he was invited to Janesville for a weekend visit. "Still no boyfriend?" Sean asked. "Nope. I'm gonna do like I said and wait until college. Unless someone sweeps me off my feet. Fat chance of that..." "Ya never know, you're a decent guy and nice looking. You're a catch, Kev..." "You think?" "Um, yeah I do... Anyway, I suppose we better get going back up to my room. The faster the Doc gets here; the faster I can be ready to leave." "OK, I'll wheel ya back up, ya crip!" Kevin laughed. "Fuck off, Masterbatorson..." Sean quipped back. Back in Sean's room, Kevin made ready to leave. "Well, let me know when you get home. I hope ya get better fast, Sean. You're a good guy..." "Yeah, I hafta get better and so does Andy," Sean said looking downcast with a tear in his eye. "Hey? What's that all about?" Kevin asked. Sean then recounted information Kevin didn't know. Information about the rape, the babies on the way and Andy's leukemia diagnosis. "So, ya see, we both have to get better... I love him so, Kev..." Kevin's heart went out to his new friend. He silently reached out his hand, took Sean's hand in his own and squeezed it. Still holding Sean's hand, he said, "Sean, it'll all work out. I promise. And if you need anything, or if Andy needs anything, you call me. I'm not that far away." Sean looked up at Kevin, then down at Kevin's hand still comforting his own. A fleeting thought crossed his mind, but only fleeting. "Thanks, Kev. I'll keep that in mind. Why don't you come down the weekend after next, whadya say?" "I, um...I will..." Kevin said softly, relinquishing his grip on Sean's hand while continuing to look at it. "I guess I better go now, huh..." "Thanks for coming, Kev, and we'll see ya in a couple weeks,' Sean smirked. Kevin bit his lower lip, nodded, smiled wanly and left. Sean ruminated on the fact that it was sweet of Kevin to have come by and to bring some weed that made him feel better. He hadn't minded holding Kevin's hand, and in fact after the past day he found it comforting. Just then, the Doctor walked in. "Well, good morning, Sean," the Doctor called, a youngish Intern. "I sure hope it's good, Doc..." "You smell like you just smoked some weed..." "Well, I just did, so can we get on with this?" Sean said, again smirking. "I'm not even gonna ask..." the Doctor replied. "OK, so I'll give the test results that we have from last night. You have a concussion. It's a grade-3 concussion. It's not trivial. You're not in any physical danger, but you need to be careful. You will recover, but if it were up to me I'd advise you against further contact sports. Now, we can't make you do anything, of course, but that's what we're looking at here." "I'm gonna play next year, but I won't do anything risky." "As I said, it's your choice, but you are advised not to do so." "I will do what I need to do understanding my limitations. I have the wherewithal to purchase better head protection than standard-issue school equipment. I can get whatever I need in terms of equipment. I need you to let me know what my condition is given the fact that I'm going to play next year and that there are other people who will be depending on me. You also need to know that within the next year I will have twin sons. So, let's not beat around the bush here... Can I play next year, or not...?" "In absolute terms you can, but I am advising you against it, and if you choose to disregard that advice that you play ONLY IF your head protection is of professional quality but you must realize that's no guarantee of anything. I would expect that your own Physician will more, or less advise you the same. This isn't an `iffy' diagnosis here, Sean. It is what it is. Your brain has been injured. If at the end of all the advice you get you choose to play, you must not put yourself in the position of taking another blow to the head like you did in the game last night. Not even once more. I know you don't feel like your hurt badly, but you are. If you took another hit chances are you wouldn't notice anything for maybe ten, or twenty years, but then you'll notice it in the form of dementia and you can do your own research on that... If you sustain further injury there is a very good chance that by the time you're fifty you'll be a babbling idiot shitting your Depends in a Nursing Home. If you play next year I want you to have a long conversation with your Physician and Coach together before you do. You don't want to hear this and I know you don't but I'm being your friend here and it is what it is. I'm sorry I haven't got a better bedside manner for you. I watched you play last night. It was unreal. But if I were you, it would be the last time." "I gotcha, Doc. I promise I'll do whatcha say... So, when am I gonna be able to blow this popcorn stand?" "We'll keep you under observation until this afternoon and discharge you early this evening." "OK, I have a ride back to Janesville. Hey, can I get a scrip for some medical marijuana?" "I'll have to check your insurance, but I don't see why not. It does help to alleviate the symptoms." "Yeah, a friend of mine came by earlier. He took me outside to have a smoke and he had some weed with him so I had a couple hits... I actually do feel a little better..." "I expect you would. OK, I'm gonna check out for now, but I'll be back. If you need a time for someone to be here to pick you up, tell them about 6:30 tonight. I'll do my best to have you out of here by then." "Thanks, Doc..." Sean then grabbed his phone and dialed Andy letting him know when to come. Andy showed up at precisely 6:30 that evening. "How you feeling, Blondie?" "OK, I guess... I'm a little tired and I can't concentrate a lot, but otherwise OK. I'm discharged now so we can leave. I just gotta stop by the Pharmacy on the way out and get my scrips. I got a scrip for some weed..." "Wow! Really? Can we smoke when we get home? Oh, and dad says family meeting when we get there..." "Yeah, I suppose he would... The Doc says I probably shouldn't play next year." "So, what are you gonna do?" "I'm gonna talk to Coach. I'm also gonna see how much that helmet Aaron Rodgers wears costs. Remember, he had two concussions in one season. Then he got the special helmet. I think I could buy one and then have someone in town customize it to look like a regular Craig helmet. I think that should be OK, but I don't think I can play all the time and with Dix gone next year I'd be the starting QB all the time and play almost all of every game. I don't think I can do that..." "You think Coach will be pissed?" "Maybe, but not at me. It's not my fault. Besides, he said we were a once-in-a-lifetime team and we won it all. I don't think he's expecting to repeat next year. He knows we probably won't. Shit, I know that, too. I might have a concussion, but I'm not delusional... That almost never happens. I mean, Germantown had a run a few years ago, but that was unheard of. I'll think of something... I'll talk to Coach before school on Monday after I go to the Doc. I gotta think about the kids, too ya know..." "I'm sorry..." "Yeah, well, never mind me. What about you?" "I gotta start the chemo this week. They said it might not affect me much at all, or it could make me really sick and there's no way to know until you start taking it." "I'm here for you," Sean said extending his hand and interlacing Andy's fingers in his own. "I'll always be here for you. I guess you and me, we just gotta play the cards we're dealt. Are you worried?" "Yeah, of course I am. I mean, they said they caught it early and I'm not in danger, but I don't think I believe that a hundred percent, do you?" "I think I don't believe in the Doctors, And. I believe in you. Please don't worry..." At that, Andy smiled at Sean. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. The boys continued down I-90 toward Janesville, hand in hand, when Andy's phone rang. Andy picked up the phone and saw that it was his mother's Attorney, Garrett Crossman. "Why would Crossman be calling me?" Andy asked, looking at Sean. END CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE