Not Everyone Likes Football

Author's Note: Okay, folks, now you're really in for it. After one multiple-chapter story from me that wasn't really a big challenge, I'm taking on a mammoth-sized project starting with this post.

This is an alternate universe story in which the Taylors also have a son, Brendan, who is one year older than Julie. It also corrects the incongruity of having Julie be a freshman in high school at 15: she's a sophomore. Some of the main events from FNL Season 1 will take place, but they get re-interpreted to a large extent and some original plot lines and characters are explored. My aim was to create an FNL universe that fans could identify with, while changing many details of the story. Like most universes, it's still a work in progress, evolving rather slowly. This is intended as the first part of a tetralogy – Part 2 will be called Storms in the Dust Bowl, Part 3 will be Win or Get out of Town, and Part 4 originally grew out of an epilogue and became a whole story in its own right, called Texas Temporarily. No guarantees at all as to how long it will take me to write and post everything. Probably years, and without the slightest hope of a regular posting schedule. It'll be here when it's here and that's the best I can do.

Chapter 1: Be Your Sister's Keeper

Macedonia, Texas

March 2002

If Eric and Tami Taylor had been asked to say when they first realized that their son Brendan was starting to grow up, they both would have identified one evening in March when he was twelve years old and their daughter Julie was a few months away from turning eleven.

At around nine in the evening, the Taylor family had settled into a comfortable routine. Eric, the physical education teacher at Macedonia High School and assistant coach of their football team, the Knights, was sitting on the couch in front of the television, watching football plays with the volume muted and scribbling notes on a pad next to him. His wife Tami was sitting at the dining table in front of a laptop computer, working on a project for her guidance counselor certification course and occasionally taking a sip from a glass of wine next to her computer. Julie had finished her homework and was practicing jazz dance steps for her next recital in her room. Brendan was either doing his own homework or reading a book; he hadn't come out to the family room or kitchen since dinner yet, not even for a glass of water.

All of a sudden, Brendan came padding out of his room, wearing a green t-shirt with the white outline of a bicycle on it and jeans. At five foot two, he hadn't gotten his growth spurt yet; his build was still slim and childlike. He had his father's black hair and round face, with his mother's slightly darker skin and brown eyes; unlike either of them, he wore glasses with round brown plastic frames. He was holding a thick paperback book in his hands. The cover showed a drawing of a football play in progress, a running back in a red and blue jersey about to run past his offensive line with a couple of defenders wearing white headed in his direction, and the title read in big orange letters "NEVER MATTER MORE: Small-town High School Sports and Society, by Sam Katzenhart." Brendan stopped a few feet from the couch and held up the book.

"Dad, Mom, I need to know something," he said with a hurried voice. "Are you like the people in this book?"

Eric and Tami glanced up at their son and then at each other. Tami's look at her husband clearly said you take this one. Eric nodded wordlessly and then waved his son over. When Brendan didn't move, Eric said "Come over here, son. Sit with me and we can talk about this."

"OK." Brendan said and gingerly sat down, still holding the book in his hands.

"I read that book too when it came out," Eric said. "What's bothering you about it?"

"I don't like the people in it. The coaches, the teachers, the boosters – none of them really care about the kids playing ball. All they want is a winning team and a famous high school. If the kids get hurt, if they get an education or don't, if they're happy – none of them care, or almost none of them. Look at what happened to Danny Townsend, or Ricky Baylor. Or the defensive tackle who didn't know how to read. And the rally girl who got pregnant."

"Brendan, have your mom and I ever done anything that makes you think that's what we're like?" When his son shook his head decisively, Eric went on. "So what's got you asking this?"

Brendan put the book down on the coffee table and placed his bony hands together. "Well... you're a football coach too, and Mom wants to be a school counselor. And this is Texas. Abilene, Waco, Sutton, some of the towns where these things happened – they're not that far away. Everyone in the book keeps saying this is the only way things can be. If that's what football is, Dad, I don't want anything to do with it. It's way too sleazy."

Eric winced visibly. He took a quick look at his wife, who had stopped typing and was watching them, but had clearly decided not to intervene yet.

"Brendan..." Eric started out slowly, "Those stories in the book, they're all real. But that's not the way things have to be. When I work with the boys, I try to get them to think about their character, to be good guys off the field too. I care about them."

Tami took another sip from her glass of wine. For a tense moment, the only sound that could be heard in the house was Julie's feet practicing her steps on the hardwood floor of her room.

Brendan looked straight at his father. "So none of your players have the girls doing their homework, or cheat on their tests, or have the teachers fake their grades so they can keep playing?"

Tami blinked and then whistled softly. Both Eric and Brendan turned their heads to look at her.

"I can't say that never happens," Eric said, "but if I find out it does, I try to get it stopped. It's not something I would let happen, or want to happen. It's not right. Cheating is wrong, on the field or off."

Tami nodded and then decided to enter the conversation. "Do you remember how Jeff Perrell kept coming around last fall because he needed help from your Dad? He was worried about learning how to play right, and your Dad helped him, and he turned into a great player, and a fine young man. He really grew up over a few months, and not just about football."

Eric stretched out his arm and placed one hand on Brendan's shoulder. "I always tell my players," he said, "any time they've got a problem or they need help, they can come talk to me. You know how Mom wants to be a guidance counselor? There's a bit of that in what I do too."

"Well, that's great," Brendan said, screwing up his face seriously, "I mean, thanks for telling me that, but I still don't want to play football."

Eric squeezed his shoulder. "That all you're worried about, tiger? Guess what, you don't have to."

Brendan blinked. "Really? It doesn't bug you?"

"Well, a bit, maybe," Eric said, "but that's 'cause football is my job and it's something I'd love to teach you, to share with you. My dad was always on me about how he thought I wasn't a good enough player. I used to play quarterback, you know. Anything I did, he was never happy. If I threw three touchdown passes, he'd ask me why it wasn't four. And he never – I mean never, to his dying day – he never forgave me for not becoming an NFL star. Anything less than that made me a failure to him. And I decided I would never be putting any son of mine through that."

"Amen to that," Tami stage-whispered from the table. She raised her glass in Eric's direction and emptied it.

Brendan's face brightened and he reached over and squeezed his father's shoulders, which was as close as Texan males came to openly hugging each other, except on very rare special occasions. "You're the greatest Dad alive. When I grow up, I want to be a writer like Mr. Katzenhart. Find out what's going on and write about it. And ride my bike all over the place."

"Yeah, well, you do that if that's what you want," Eric said with a smile. "But there is some other stuff your Mom and I are going to need you to do as you grow up."

"Like what?" Brendan's face grew wary in an instant. "Chores?" He was twelve years old. It was completely inconceivable that someone his age could like housework. He shifted slightly in his seat.

"No, not chores, fun stuff we can do together." Eric said. "Well, you can call 'em jobs because they're things that help your family. Doesn't make them bad though. You're gonna be a man, Brendan Zachary Taylor, and there's some stuff that a man's expected to know how to do. Like fixing stuff when it's broke, barbecuing, putting stuff together, any lifting – you and me, we'll be getting it done. It's part of growing up."

"OK," Brendan said in a voice that indicated he'd give his father the benefit of the doubt. Then he turned to his mother. "Is there anything you need me to be doing too, Mom?"

"Yes, actually," Tami said, "I need you to be a good big brother to Julie. Watch out for her so nobody bothers or hurts her, listen to her any time she needs to talk to you, just take care of her and be her friend. Maybe sometimes she's going to need to say some things to somebody her age that she's not quite ready to tell us."

"Girl stuff?" Brendan scowled. "Shouldn't she be telling a girl that?"

"Not girl stuff, kid stuff. School stuff. Growing up stuff. With your Dad's jobs and moving and things, you've gone through a bunch of different schools and kept having to make new friends. I need – we need – the two of you to stand by each other, be each other's friends. And wear your helmet when you're biking."

"It's all about being family, son," Eric said. "You're older than Julie, so she's got to know you've got her back. And there's just a bit more that I need you to do if you're not going to play football."

"Like what?" Brendan looked surprised.

"First, I need your support." Eric said, looking into his son's eyes to hold his attention. "You don't need to do anything for any football team I'm working for, but I don't want you telling everyone you don't like football and why. This is Texas, son, and people love their football. It matters a whole lot to them. If you talk down to what people believe in, they're not gonna be nice to you. So be careful about talking about that. People can be real mean if you do. If anyone asks why you don't play, blame your eyes or something. And since you said I'm the greatest Dad alive, I'd really appreciate it if you'd come to my games just like your mom does."

"What about Julie?" Brendan asked. "Does she have to go too?"

"What about me?" Julie herself appeared in the hallway, clad in her leotard and tights, with her eyes wide open and her long blond hair tied in a bun. "Where do I have to go?"

"To come watch my games," Eric said. When Julie made a face, Tami interjected "And we'll come to watch all your dance recitals. All of us."

"Dancing?" Brendan said and stood up. "I gotta watch her dancing?"

"Of course," Tami said firmly. "It's part of being a family. Just like if you were in some bicycle race you'd want all of us cheering you on, wouldn't you? Or if you wrote a book, you'd want us to buy it and read it, right?"

Brendan put up his hands in surrender. "I guess I would." Then he walked over to his sister's side slowly and took her small hand in his. "I got your back, Julie. I'll be a good brother and always keep you safe." His sister gave him a smile and a quick hug. "Thanks, Brendan."

Brendan turned back to his parents. "How'm I supposed to do that though?"

"Be strong for her, kiddo." Eric said. "I'll give you some tips. It's part of that man stuff we're gonna be doing together."

"Mom, Dad, Brendan," Julie said bouncily, "I figured out all my steps! Want me to show you?"

"Sure, let's do that." Eric said after a moment. "Sit back down to watch, Brendan." Then his voice changed into a parody of an announcer, "La-dies and Gentlemen, the one and only Miss Julie Taylor!"

"Shouldn't we put on the music for you?" Tami asked Julie.

"Can we have ice cream after this?" Brendan asked half a second later.

"Private family recital, with music and ice cream, let's do it!" Eric's voice boomed. Then he waved to his wife while Julie ran off to her room to bring her dance CD. "Come over here and sit on my lap, babe. It's part of being a family."