Date: Tue, 7 Aug 2012 22:26:10 -0700 From: Douglas DD DD Subject: The Big Time Chapter 21 The mighty Mayfield High School Mustangs are State Class A Champions. I'm sure, with what you know about these boys, you expect the bus ride home to be interesting. Well, you're right, it was very interesting. But the groundwork had to be laid for this championship to happen, not to mention the dream of winning two in a row. In the seventh grade story line you will see the Go to State Team working hard to get their dream off of the ground. The story is mine. Please be 18. Minors are having sex here. Be safe. And for sure, donate to Nifty. CHAPTER 21 STATE CHAMPIONS The entire Mustang team was on the bus, except for one player and Coach Sanders. That one player was sure to catch a raft of shit when he got on. I mean this was too good a setup not to get on him. The one player who wasn't on board yet was Marty, who is always worthy of getting some shit. He and Coach were busy chatting away with some reporter. We all suspected it was Ben Booth, the same reporter that Marty loved dissing during breakfast. Oh, was he going to get the "treatment". When he finally broke away and climbed on the bus, we all started chanting, "MVP! MVP! MVP!" Marty held up the trophy and grinned. Then we started giving him a ton of shit about selling out to the press, especially to the reporter he didn't like, about being a celebrity, and about loving the spotlight, among other things. My favorite line might be the one that came from Conner: "With that trophy Marty finally has something that is hard, and straight, and big enough to be seen without a magnifying glass." Marty stared at us, his face set and serious. He set the trophy down, a look of rising anger coming to his face. I had to wonder if maybe in our celebration we had overstepped the line and awakened the old Marty. But then in one deft move he pivoted, whipped open his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped, and yanked down his pants and boxer briefs, giving us a big, white moon from his muscular ass. Coach Sanders stepped on the bus just as Marty got his pants pulled down past his ass and started mooning us. The entire team, along with the assistant coaches and Coach Sanders, shook the bus with laughter. It was going to be a great ride home. It was not the first time Coach Sanders had seen Marty mooning somebody; in fact he was once the recipient of a Marty moon way back in middle school. But that is a story for later. Our bus was not a school bus, it was a luxury tour bus. The Mayfield booster club paid for the difference between chartering this bus and a regular school bus, which the state athletic association paid for. The seats were roomy and comfortable with footrests. It had monitors for movie viewing, and its size was just right for us athletes, even the tall ones. I couldn't imagine taking an over three hour bus ride in a school bus. The first thing we did was stop at McDonald's to load up on grub for lunch. Various town businesses and sponsors had paid for our extra nice meal yesterday. Today we got to order whatever we could get within the amount the state budgeted for meals. We were all able to buy enough to get us over the mountains and to dinner, which we already found out would be tons of pizza at Pooh Bear's, paid for by the booster club. After we finally got on the freeway out of the Tri-Cities, some lame action- adventure movie started playing, but we all knew that the real action would be happening in the back of the bus as soon as we finished eating. Everybody had heard about the blow job Kevin and Marty had promised Rich out on the pitcher's mound during the game and they expected it to happen. We were all very noisy and in a great mood. It was the mood we were supposed to be in after winning a state tournament. There was also some snuggling going on between boyfriends, one of the great advantages to being out as gay couples. It didn't hurt to have a gay coach, although he tried to keep his orientation and relationship low-key. Being a gay teacher in a small town wasn't easy, and while he wasn't in the closet, he didn't run around flaunting his relationship with Coach Miller, either. As for us boys, we had no problem being ourselves, even if it did create some uncomfortable moments. I have a feeling it would have been tougher on all of us if we lived a few miles up the road in Kentburg. There seemed to be an entirely different attitude in that town than there was in Mayfield. Noah was sitting next to me, of course, and I had the window seat. He was leaning his head against mine and seemed lost in thought, which was a contrast to the celebrating going on with the rest of the players. Noah was usually one to get into whatever hijinks were going on. He loved to joke and tease. I put my arm around him and stroked his shoulder. He looked up at me with that sweet smile of his. "I love you," he said. "I love you, too. You're kind of quiet." "I was thinking too much, which, as you always like to say, can be kind of dangerous. Plus, I just like leaning against you. It makes me feel safe and loved." He was lost in thought for a few more moments and then that mischievous look came to his eyes, even through his glasses. "Of course, if you were six foot four and two-hundred twenty pounds I'd feel a lot a safer." I reached down and pinched his always pinchable ass. "I truly am lucky to have you as my boyfriend." "Only half as lucky as I am to have you as mine. And no fair you upping the stakes. Accept what you have and live with it." "What I have is a state championship trophy and the best boyfriend on the planet. I think I can live with that." Scott got out of his seat and started for the back of the bus. Saying he was heading for the back was relative, since we were sitting as far to the back as we could, keeping a proper distance between us and the coaches. "You two look cozy," he said. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you were both gay and both boyfriends." "Hmmm, but you do know better, which still makes us gay and boyfriends," Noah said. "And you make a cute couple." "Jealous?" Noah asked, which startled me because the tone of his voice didn't seem to be entirely joking. "Only because a certain female, who gave me a nice kiss in the parking lot after the game, can't ride the bus and let me cuddle up like you two are." A voice from behind us interrupted the conversation. "The action is about to begin behind me. Do you guys want to switch places? I think you'd get more out of watching it than I would." It was Rodney, who was sitting by himself in the seat in back of us. "I hear Scott, though. A couple of chicks on this bus would make the ride home even better." I looked down at Noah, whose head was resting against my upper arm. He looked back up at me and smiled with his sexy little grin. "Sounds like a plan, Rodney, let's switch," I said. Considering what was about to happen in the back of the bus and who was most interested in witnessing it, a lot of us should have sat in different seats. Whatever, by the time we all finished with our musical chairs, we were two seats ahead of where Marty and Rich were sitting. Chandler and Korey, the two freshmen who served as batboys for the tournament, were in the seats between us. Because of the location of the restroom, Kevin and Lars were in the seat across from Noah and me. Kevin got up and walked to the back as soon as Scott left the bathroom. Everybody, except the coaches up at the front, knew what was about to go down, and I had to wonder if maybe the coaches suspected there would be some sexual mischief in the back of the bus. Kevin, being the control freak catcher he was, had laid out the logistics. Chandler and Korey had the scorebook and sat in the aisle facing each other, the idea being we were all discussing baseball and they were sitting this way to be in the middle of a group of seats. Their real purpose for their location, however, was to block the coaches' view of the last seats. They had to lift the armrests to make the arrangement work out. As soon as they were settled, Kevin stepped over them and sat in the aisle, faking interest in whatever it was the two freshmen weren't saying. Rich was in the aisle seat, his pants now open and down to his knees, as were his boxers. His five and a half inch seventeen year old cock was standing up ready for Kevin to pay off his promised blow job. He wasn't the most well-endowed boy on the team, but it didn't make him any less sexy, especially in Marty's eyes. But it wasn't going to be as cut and dried as Rich thought. "Wait, stop, hang on a minute," Marty said. "Why is Rich getting rewarded?" Kevin stopped. He knew where Marty was going because the two of them had set it up. Rich looked confused. "I'm getting rewarded because Kevin said he would suck me off if I got that batter out. The dude went out, we won the game, I get my BJ. Simple." "See, that's the thing---you didn't get him out, Lars did." "Huh?" Rich was even more confused; he had been the pitcher after all. "You served him up a fat pitch," Marty said. "Lars saved your ass with his long arms and nimble fingers. You were lucky that ball didn't go off the wall." "But you didn't say how I needed to get him out," Rich protested. "You just said I just needed to get him out." "True, but since it was luck over skill, I think there is a price to be paid before Kevin pays you off." Rich knew how Marty's mind worked and he knew that whatever he was thinking of would involve sex. He thought Marty was going to ask to be a part of the payoff, but he was wrong. "I think Lars needs to get sucked off before you can be. And I think you need to do it, after all he did save your ass." "He saved all of our asses," Rich said. "Point made...but you were the one who threw the sucky pitch. So, suck him off," Marty told him. Rich almost broke out laughing at Marty's suggestion. "Dude, we're going to be lucky not to get caught with only one blow job happening. A second one is going to take more time and who knows when a coach might decide to come back and pee." "Nobody's coming back if the occupied sign is on," Kevin said. "What, are you a part of this?" Rich asked. Kevin's lecherous grin told it all. "Wait, you don't mean I have to suck Lars off in that smelly bathroom." "Nah, that place would make anybody go soft in a hurry. Even Viagra wouldn't help there," Marty said. "Kraig has volunteered to sit in there, but he says you better make it fast." "How fast it goes is up to Lars," Rich said. He looked at Marty and then at Kevin. "You guys are cruel." "We are," Marty said, "but you know you love it." This lead to another session of musical chairs as Kraig went into the little restroom, Marty and Lars switched seats, Kevin sat at the window next to Lars, and Rich ended up kneeling in the aisle, his pants still down and his dick still hard. Lars opened up in a hurry and worked his dick out of the slit in his green and white briefs. His dick was like he was, long and slender. Even at sixteen he had no body hair except for a narrow patch of blond pubes. He knew in advance what Kevin and Marty had in mind and it had gotten him incredibly turned on. He had been leaking precum even before he changed seats, which was attested to by a wet spot on his briefs. All I know as I looked at the two of them was that I was really close to spontaneously cumming I was so turned on. I think Lars was, too. He told Rich that he wouldn't have to suck very long, which was the idea. This was not the place for making out or foreplay, it was for getting it done and getting off. Lars was right; within a couple of minutes he was squirting into Rich's mouth as he let out some satisfied grunts. "Oh, fuck, Rich, that was good," Lars said. "You gotta quit being the group prude and suck us all off more often. You're not married to him you know." Lars pointed to Marty as he said that. "That's what Marty says, too. Maybe I should give some more BJs. You got some great tasting cum---really sweet. Put that snake away and get out of my seat," Rich said. "Kevin's got no excuse for not getting me off now." The bodies were shuffled again and Kevin quickly had Rich's cock in his mouth. After all the anticipation of the deed along with sucking Lars off, Rich had a near spontaneous cum, filling Kevin's mouth before the catcher had time to even get a rhythm going. "Ohhhhhhhh, fucking A that was good," Rich said. "I never even had a chance to show you how good I was," Kevin told him. "Damn you were fast." "Which is a good thing for your brother," I said, referring to Kraig who was still in the restroom. Kevin knocked on the door and Kraig came out holding his nose as everybody worked to get back to their regular seats. I had no idea what the coaches must be thinking of all the seat changing going on back here. "It is fucking gross in there," Kraig said as he stepped out. "I was gonna jerk off, but Marty was right, even Viagra won't work on you in there. Somebody owes me something." That was the end of the blow jobs, but it wasn't the end of the cumming. My pants were unbuttoned and unzipped. All it took for me to get off was slipping my hand inside my white briefs. They were instantly filled with my thick cum. I pulled my wet hand out and held it in front of Noah. "Want to taste?" He took a lick, and as he did I put my hand inside his unzipped pants. It took me a few strokes before I had my other hand wet with cum, this time Noah's sweet stuff. While I licked Noah's stuff off of my hand I thought that some day I needed to do a taste comparison between him and Lars. Kevin and Kraig were now sitting together and the twins had their pants pulled down below their balls and their six and a quarter inch cocks out in the open as they jerked each other off, letting their cum fly, much of it hitting their shirts before dribbling down into their pubic hair. We gay boys secretly wished Vince would pull his monster dick out, if for no other reason than make us drool. His eight inch piece of meat was the biggest one on the team, a fact nobody, not even Marty or Jerome, contested. Those two had nothing to be ashamed of, but as far as I could tell, Marty's cock was the only one that was out in the open. I had often told Noah how lucky his sister was to have that big monster shoved into her cunt. Rich jerked Marty off in the seat behind us, but maybe the hottest pair was the two in the seat in front of us. Chandler and Korey were wildly making out and kissing, their hands all over each other from their chests to their hard cocks. Their pants and underpants were at their ankles. I couldn't help but wonder if they could get them pulled up in time if a coach came to the back of the bus. Then I realized, as I peered over the back of their seats, that they had a blanket shoved into the space between Chandler and the window. I found out later that it belonged to Chandler and had been stuffed into the bag they carried on. "Always be prepared," is how Chandler put it, like he was a Boy Scout or something. Noah accused him of carrying a security blanket with him. Chandler and Korey happen to have an interesting history. They were bed buddies when they were nine, learning about sex on their own to the point they were fucking by the time Chandler turned ten. But for them it was all done in fun and because it felt good. They said that back then when they were "little" they didn't even think about it being sex, it was just playing around. As they got older it turned more and more into sex, especially as they hung around with the twins and the rest of us. They liked having sex with older boys and sought us out. I won't go into what they did when they were in sixth grade and we were in eighth, but I'm sure you will learn about it eventually. While they don't say they are gay, they don't say they aren't either. They don't look down their noses at girls like some of us do, and while neither one of them has a steady girlfriend, they do go out on dates and play the field some. Korey was a virgin, but Chandler has been naked with three different girls, fucking one before he was in middle school. He also spent the night in bed with one in the eighth grade when her parents were away. It was his idea not to fuck, which apparently didn't sit well with her. This happened just a couple of months ago. He and Korey have done some four ways, with everything but a boy fucking a girl happening. "I have Korey to fuck," Chandler once said, "and he has guaranteed me he won't get pregnant." Just like they won't say they're gay or straight, they also won't claim to be bi. "Sex is for having fun, not for labeling," Korey said then. "We're fourteen and we like sex. That's what it's all about." With Korey just having his birthday they were now both fifteen. There are two fellow freshmen they have a lot of sex with, Mikey, who is Rich's brother, and Mikey's friend Drew. They also mess around with buddies still in middle school, including Noah's brother Nick, the only one in the group who claims to be gay—at least sometimes. And of course they have no problem having sex with us upper classmen. Even though I just got off, watching those two make out in their seats was just plain HOT. Those two knew how to get each other going sexually. After doing it with each other for over five years they should. Right now they were deep kissing, tongues busily at work, their hands wandering under each other's shirts, playing with each other's nipples, rubbing chests, and bellies, then grabbing and fondling and stroking each other's hard cocks and hanging balls. Chandler had a nice nest of pubic hair at the base of his cock, but not much else in the hair department other than tufts of underarm hair. Korey's pubic hair was still sparse, with curly wisps scattered around. His balls and underarms were still smooth. They both were doing okay in the cock department, sporting tools that were six inches, give or take a little. I could remember when they were both around half that size with a lot less girth. I was playing with myself again as I watched those two at work, doing everything but bending over and sucking each other. Once Korey's stuck his finger under Chandler and I knew he was running it up Chandler's ass. The two were excited even more by being naughty in public; something they said was a huge turn-on for them. They had something in common with Marty and Kevin in that department. I imagine the fact that Chandler's father was sitting in the front of the bus was an even bigger turn-on, just because of the sheer audacity of what they were doing. He was Coach Ecklund, the head coach at Mayfield Middle School, and had acted like a bench coach during Regionals and at State. I had no idea how much he knew about what went on between Korey and his son. I had this image shoot into my mind of Coach Ecklund walking up the aisle and seeing Korey's finger up Chandler's ass and both boys with their pants pulled down sporting rock hard cocks. Hopefully they would be quick with the blanket if he actually did get up. They both pulled up their polo shirts, exposing their bare bellies. I had a feeling the finale was coming up. It turned out they didn't need the blanket and they finished up by jerking away at each other's young teen cocks as they kept their lips locked, finally blowing their wads onto their bellies. In Chandler's case he didn't have his shirt pulled up high enough as he had his first squirt hit the bottom of his shirt. It may have been the hottest thing I'd ever seen on a bus---it wasn't the first time sex came into play on one of our trips, going back to sixth grade. Those two may have outdone the blow jobs in the back just a few minutes ago. I filled up my underpants with cum a second time and I could see that Noah did the same. We were all going be smelling of sex by the time we got to Pooh Bear's Pizza. I zipped up my pants and left my seat to pee. Marty and Rich were jerking off in the back, ready for their second cums. "Those two are the hottest things in the freshman class," Marty said, referring to Korey and Chandler. "Me and Rich need a four-way with them before we leave for college." He kept right on jerking as he talked, "Which reminds me, next week for us, right?" I knew he was talking about getting me in bed with him. "Right," I said. "Call me tomorrow." "You're on." He never lost a beat as he kept stroking his cock. I went into the little restroom to take care of business thinking how great winning was. I think we all would have slept away losing for the entire trip home---this was way better. When I got out of the restroom the cocks had all been put away as Coach Sanders was waiting to be next to use the facility. I think we were all glad he had a decent sized bladder and waited this long. Another 45 minutes and we would be in Mayfield, munching down pizza and reliving the weekend. Since Monday was Memorial Day, who knew where we would all end up? ++++++++++ Kraig could tell that Hunter was furious. Even if he hadn't become good at reading his friend's changing moods, he would have been able to read the anger etched on Hunter's face. "He is such an asshole! I mean a total asshole!" Kraig knew that Hunter was referring to his father. "He treated you guys like shit, especially Eric. He treated Eric like he was some kind of juvenile delinquent or something." "I thought you didn't want your dad as our sponsor," Kraig said. As happened so often he was confused by Hunter's changing positions and needs. "I said I wouldn't play if he was the sponsor, I didn't say I didn't want him to be the sponsor." Kraig couldn't figure out the difference, so he kept his mouth shut. "And it's still no excuse for him treating everybody like shit." While he was talking Hunter was getting out of the good clothes he had worn. He was finally down to his boxers and a pair of socks. Kraig kept his good clothes on since their group had another sponsor appointment to go to. Rich had done a great job of lining people up. "Rich's mom is making us all breakfast," Kraig said. "I gotta get over there. Do you want to join us?" "Nah. I'm not part of the committee, so you just go ahead. I'm too pissed off to be around anybody. I'm still tired and I'm gonna go back to bed." "Whatever, you're still part of the Team, so it's no problem if you join us. I'll call you and let you know how the next sponsor meeting goes." "Who are you guys meeting next?" "Bob from Bob's Burger Barn." "Good luck. He'll say he's broker than my dad." Hunter was sitting crossed legged on his bed. Kraig could see up the leg of his boxers and make out his smooth ball sac. As if he was following Kraig's eyes and reading his mind Hunter said, "What we did yesterday on the couch, it was all playing right? It didn't mean nothing." Kraig wished Hunter would just shut up about the sex on the couch not meaning anything, or being an accident, or whatever other excuse he could come up with for what happened. Either mess around and enjoy it or just don't do it at all. But once again he did what didn't come easily to him and played the diplomat. "Yeah, it was all practice and didn't mean shit," he said somewhat cynically. But Kraig couldn't leave it there. "Hunter, it meant something to me, okay? I know how you feel, but I like what I do with you. You don't have to be gay, but I like you." Hunter acted like he hadn't heard a word, but Kraig new better. He could see it on Hunter's face and in Hunter's eyes. "Mary Alice will be happy I practiced when we go to the movie, you watch." Kraig wished he could watch. "Later dude, I gotta jet." "See ya, Kraig." Kraig took off with his stuff. He was hungry and wanted to get to the breakfast at Rich's house. Meanwhile Hunter's father had left the house and was driving down Highway 12 for Centralia. He was as furious as Hunter was. He felt his son was entering rebellious adolescent mode a little bit too soon---he could have at least waited until he was thirteen. He was happy the committee of boys didn't linger, because he simply wanted to get away from his son before he ripped him a new asshole. The word asshole brought up another thought which angered him even more. His son had called him an asshole in front of his peers. Even worse, he'd let the boy get away with it. He'd given Hunter a good life, giving him a lot of material things, the best sports equipment, a good home with two parents, and his thanks was to have his son act out and call him an asshole. He decided this was not going to fester all day. He got on his hands free phone and called the store. His wife, who was in charge of the retail floor, answered and he told her he would be late, that he needed to deal with a problem with Hunter. "Whatever it is, it can wait until tonight when you're not sounding so angry," his wife told him. "This can't wait. It needs to be dealt with now." "I take it your meeting with his friends didn't go well." "That's putting it mildly. They did not impress me." They said their good-byes and he made a u-turn and started back for Mayfield. Buying a house in Mayfield had been a mistake, he concluded. He should be living where most of his business was, and that was in Centralia. But he had wanted to live in the town where he grew up. As he drove back along the highway he thought about the totally asinine books on parenting his wife made him read. "Always keep communication lines open with your kids," the books said. The authors obviously never raised kids. He told his son what he felt needed to be said when it needed to be said. That was communication. Besides, he thought, how do you communicate with a twelve year old who calls you an asshole? He looked down at his speedometer and saw he was almost ten miles an hour over the limit. He slowed down some and as he got his speed under control a thought hit him like an epiphany; it was a thought that would end up having a profound effect on the Go to State Team. The thought went like this: maybe my son called me an asshole because I don't communicate. Allen knew his son sometimes got upset with him about the pressure he put on him in baseball, but he pressured him for his own good, pressured him because he was good. His getting cut from the middle school JV team hadn't sat well with him and he would have put the coaches in their place if his wife hadn't told him to take a couple of days to calm down. Unfortunately, what he finally found out when pressing Hunter about what had happened during the turnouts was that Hunter had tanked his practices to get cut on purpose. He did it so he wouldn't have to play in front of his own father. To make it worse, Hunter had signed up for one of the local recreation teams and all but told him to stay away from the games. He not only stayed away he even refused to talk baseball or any sports with him. He kept their conversations only to what needed to be said around the house. As he thought about it he realized that since Hunter's baseball rebellion until his blowup this morning, Hunter spoke to him only when he was spoken to. It appeared that the communication between them had broken down to none at all. Up in his room, Hunter was unable go to sleep. He kept thinking of how he had called his father an asshole and he knew that he was going to be in deep shit when his father came home that evening. His dad never talked to him any more except to yell at him and tonight was going to be the all-time get yelled at moment of his life. He tried to turn his thoughts to something else, like his Saturday date with Mary Alice, if his dad even let him go to the movie with her. He probably was going to end up being grounded until he was at least a hundred years old, a prospect that had him thinking about the benefits of just running away from home. One benefit he wouldn't have if he ran away would be a hot shower, so he decided maybe he should take one. But for now he was happy to be on his bed, lying on his back, his right hand inside his boxers, thinking thoughts of what he and Mary Alice would be doing in the theater, if he could find a way to escape from his prison. The problem for him as he played with himself, was that he couldn't get really hard unless his mind went to what he and Kraig had done on the couch the afternoon before. That brought his anger back. The whole thing was practice, so why should it be the thing that turns him on. We didn't even get totally naked, he thought, so it wasn't even that big of a deal. He turned his mind back to Mary Alice as well as to Tama, the girl he had showered naked with, with limited success as far as his horniness went. He started to yank down his boxers to either go shower or to jerk off, although he couldn't decide which, when a loud knock on his door startled him. "Eeek!" was what squeaked out of his mouth. There shouldn't be anybody but him in the house. Kraig must have not locked the door on the way out and now some burglar or somebody had snuck in. But if it was a burglar, why would he knock? His heart was pounding fiercely as he asked who was at the door. "It's your father. Can I come in?" Oh shit, was the thought that slammed right into his head. His dad had turned around and come home which meant he was in bigger trouble than he thought. He was sure now his grounding was going to last until he was two hundred. Well at least his dad knocked and asked for his permission instead of barging through the door. He quickly pulled his boxers back up. "I'm not dressed. I was about to shower," he protested. "It doesn't matter, I just want to talk." I bet you do, Hunter thought. "Okay, come in," he said without enthusiasm. He sat up on the bed, his back against the wall, thinking how it was a good thing he wasn't hard now. His dad entered the room and Hunter almost ducked, ready for the verbal onslaught. Instead his dad sat on the chair at Hunter's desk and said nothing. His saying nothing made Hunter even more nervous than being yelled at would have. When his father spoke his voice was surprisingly gentle. Hunter didn't realize how hard it was for his father to keep his voice under control, using every trick he had learned as an athlete about keeping his poise in a tough situation. "You apparently didn't agree with me this morning," he told his son. Hunter said nothing. "There is nothing wrong with disagreeing with me." So you say, thought Hunter. "But, I was hurt with how you handled that disagreement." He wanted to say he could learn something by how businesslike his friends were during the meeting, but he let that idea drop. Hunter continued to stare into space. This communication thing isn't starting out very well, his father thought. He decided to take a page out of one of his wife's books and put the onus on his son. "Any idea how you could have handled your feelings?" I'd like to handle them right now by shutting you up, Hunter thought. "Look, son, I did not come home to crucify you," his father said after he got tired of waiting for an answer. Oh? Then what are you doing right now? Hunter thought. "I just didn't want us both to be angry at each other all day long." Hunter finally spat out," It never bothered you before." That jab hurt, but his father continued on. "Maybe it did bother me, but I didn't do what I should have about it." "What, come home and yell at me?" Hunter's father was about to lose it right there and show his son what yelling was really about, but he took a deep breath and said one of the hardest words he'd ever had to utter. "No. Come home to listen to you." Hunter looked at his father like he'd dropped into his room from another planet. His mind started plotting: maybe if I just go along with him my restriction will only be fifty years and he'll let me out for my date on Saturday. But what came out made him sound sulky. "You never wanted to listen to me before. Why should I think you want to listen to me now?" Allen looked at his son, who was dressed only in a pair of silver and black striped boxers shorts. He was only twelve, but already his body was filling out, his muscles getting some definition. His body wasn't the skinny string bean body of so many kids his age, and wasn't the soft, overweight body of many others. His body was that of a developing athlete, and of a boy just beginning to turn into a man. His father thought over his answer carefully and said, "Because I expect you to become more mature as you grow up, but maybe you should expect me to learn, too. And maybe today I learned that you aren't a little boy with nothing to say. I saw how your friends handled themselves this morning, like little businessmen, but I didn't realize until I was on the road that I never took the time to listen to them. I expected them to be immature little kids, and I treated them like that was what they were. But I see now that they were much more. "The same goes with you. I have treated you like a little kid and never realized how maybe your mind is growing with your body. And if I don't help you to grow, if I don't teach you, then I can't expect you to learn. And if I keep thinking I know everything and don't listen to you and just see things my way, then maybe that makes me look like an asshole to you." Hunter continued looking straight ahead, but his eyes were on his father now, instead of some imaginary point on the other side of the room. He tried not to break into a smile at his father's use of the world asshole. "You're not an asshole," Hunter said. "And I'm sorry I said that." His father smiled for the first time since he entered the room. "Oh, I don't think I'm an asshole either. But I will admit to acting like one. Maybe we both have things to learn. When you're quarterbacking a game and you're getting rushed, you either learn how to keep your cool and get out of the pocket to make something happen, or you get pissed off and let yourself get creamed every time." Hunter said nothing as his mind mulled over some ideas and thoughts. His father's analogy ran though his head. Okay, he thought, I'm the quarterback, and dad is the pass rusher, and it's time for me to make up a play. "So if you think Eric and them had good ideas, does that mean you'll sponsor us?" Hunter surprised himself by including himself in the group. "No, and for two reasons. First, like I said, as much as those boys impressed me, they aren't the entire team and I can't put my money into a team that is run by the players. And the second would be that even if I could, the money isn't there to do it." "But, dad, we don't want to run the team. We know we'd never make it if we ran the team. It's why Eric got Mr. McCall to be our advisor. Sure Eric's the chairman, but we asked Mr. McCall to help us do things right. Dad, we're really more than serious about being good enough to go to State. We're serious about really playing there." Allen mused that he may have just heard the longest speech his son had ever given him. Not only that, but it was a very sincere and mature statement, given in the same mode as the presentation of his friends this morning. "Even if you get a coach you like and does what you think you want done, you still have to deal with the school coaches. And I haven't kept my thoughts about Coach Collins at the high school a secret." "Mr. McCall says that we can't think about that now. He says we have to take care of what we can take care of right now and worry about the rest when it happens." "That's pretty sound advice." Hunter's father couldn't help but wish it was his advice his son was quoting, not the advice of the father of another boy. Have I been that out of touch? he thought. It was then that he made what at the time seemed like a mistake, but in retrospect ended up being yet another little thing that helped the success of the Go to State Team. "The reason I say what I do about kids running the team is because I almost had close to that problem with one of the two teams I'm currently sponsoring. The kids don't listen to the coaches, they argue with the umpires, the coaches argue with the umpires, and there was a lot of trash talking dished out to the other team. On top of that they had almost no fundamentals and didn't give any thought to playing the game right. They are not fun to watch and I was embarrassed to have the name of my company on their uniforms. "I told their coach he either cleans things up or I would drop my sponsorship at the end of their season. He didn't take control and last week I told him he would be looking for a new sponsor." And with that confession Hunter's father gave his son the opening he needed. "If you're dropping a team that means you have money." "Business is down. Frankly, it's money I would have had a hard time spending on a second team even if business was good." Allen wished he could give his son a better answer, but in his mind that's the way things were. "What if you just paid half of the sponsorship?" Hunter asked. "Half? Who would pay the other half?" "A lot of the other businesses Eric and them are gonna talk to. I bet he can talk more than one into doing the other half." Another idea hit him and he found himself on a roll. He forgot all about the fact he was talking to his father, the man who scared the shit out of him as often as not. "And you could say you'll put up the half, but Champion Sporting Goods has to be the sponsor name on the uniform and everything." Allen looked at the half-naked boy on the bed like he was an alien that had been deposited into the bedroom replacing his real son; so now father and son were each aliens in the other's mind. He was speechless for a moment, then said, "I like the idea son. I really like it. I can afford half, I think. Do you know who else they are talking to and when?" Hunter told his father who was on their list of potential sponsors. He knew that they had an appointment with Bob, the owner of the Burger Barn, that afternoon, but he didn't know when the other ones were. "Seth's budget has some problems since he's never had to outfit a team, but it's close enough. I'll call him so we can get together and make it more accurate." "You should call Eric and let him know what you're doing, so he knows what he's talking about." Hunter was surprised about how excited he was. He couldn't believe he actually talked his dad into being a team sponsor. Allen just shook his head. His son had just morphed from an angry young adolescent into a thinking individual who seemed to fit right in with his peers, who had left a very positive impression on him at the morning meeting once he got over himself and thought about what had actually transpired. He was actually beginning to feel some enthusiasm for baseball in Mayfield for the first time in years. "Oh, and dad, one more thing." As long as he was on a roll, Hunter decided to try pressing his luck. "Yes?" "I want to play with them and be part of everything they're doing, but you gotta promise not be on my ass every game and every at bat. I want to have fun playing. Please, promise." Hunter gave him a bit of a pleading look. "All I've wanted is to teach you what I know and have you playing your best." Allen knew that the good feeling was too good to last. "How about if I promise to work hard and do my best and you promise to teach me stuff, but not give me shit...er...a bad time every time I strike out and stuff. Like we both promise stuff." Maybe those books knew what they're talking about after all, Allen thought. "You've got a deal son. Now let's go down to my office so I can talk to that chairman of yours." Hunter followed his dad downstairs, still in just his boxers. Running around in one's underwear was not the thing to do in Hunter's household and he felt almost special because his dad didn't make him put something else on. Allen went through his paperwork, picked up his phone, and called Eric. Eric was at Rich's house, eating the breakfast Rich's mother had cooked up for the sponsorship committee along with Rich's little brother Mikey. He had just finished a phone call verifying that his plans for next week were all set. He and Scott would be going to Tacoma on Sunday to spend four days with his old friends from when he lived there. His exuberance was contagious and Rich's mother was amused by how much of a little boy he was in the ways he handled himself. She couldn't see any kind of a businessman taking that little boy attitude seriously. Eric's phone rang again. He was surprised to see Hunter's father's name on his readout. He answered the phone with a polite, "Hello..." Eric was the only person who knew who was calling, but Rich's mother could feel an entire mood shift in the boy at her table. "Yes, sir...you are????....yes, thank you that's excellent...so we raise the other 50% and you, like, match it?......yes, sir, I'm sure we can do that...thank you very much, this is excellent...okay, thanks again...hey Hunter...wow, that was your idea?....and he took it?....we all thought he was going to kill you when he got home today, how did you get away with...guess it worked...okay, thanks Hunter, you rock...laters." "Oh, wow, Hunter's dad says he will cover fifty percent if we can get the rest," Eric told the other kids at the table. "You're shit...er kidding me," Connor said, looking over at Rich's mother. "He was such a shit...damn...he wasn't a nice guy at the meeting. I was about to get up and put a fist in his face, but Hunter pretty much beat me to it. I wouldn't want to be him after his dad gets done with his ass." It was all Rich's mother could do not to laugh at Connor's attempts not to cuss. "That's what Hunter just told me. Hunter says he talked his dad into being a half-sponsor" Eric said. "So, now we have to change what we say to everybody else about how much money we need. He said he's going to call Seth about his budget. Rich and I will talk to Seth before we go see Bob." Rich's mother now saw the leadership of Eric at work. He wasn't missing a beat and was making new plans right on the fly. She had been skeptical of the entire group when Rich told her about it. She didn't think a group of middle school boys could get something like this off the ground, and here they were actually making things happen. As for Eric, his morphing from a giggly kid with his friends to the most businesslike twelve year old she'd ever seen might have been the most impressive part of the morning. Suddenly she felt like this group of kids had a chance. Next: We're Not Done