Author's note: This is an idea that came to me late last night and I
decided to see what I could do with it. Please let me know what you think.
I thought this character would have put an interesting twist in the
movie. If anyone thinks I have too many stories going on at once, just
let me know and I'll put one on the back burner till I'm done with the
others. Everything between ** are BJ's thoughts. This is the first time,
I've tried write in first person POV, so please be kind. Enjoy.......
Hi, my name is BJ. BJ Yoast and I am 17 years old. I like fast cars, loud music, pretty girls, rodoes, basically all the things most teen age boys like, and a few others besides. I love my family, my friends, my horse, my team, and football. Some poeple think I'm strange, becuase I'm always doing something, pulling a prank on some one, or just acting crazy, other's just think I'm hyped up on dope. But, I'm not. That's just me.
I play for the Hammond High Bulldogs. Of course I play. I'm the Coach's son. Everybody in Alexandria expects me to play and well. I am good, too. Not as good as Gerry Bertier, but almost. I'll make All- American this season, I just know it. I'm not as big as some of the other guys, but I'm tall and I can run like the wind. Maybe that's why Coach made me a running back. Things aren't going to be easy this year, though. The school board decided to intergrate the schools which means some of us and some of the G.W. players are going to lose our starting positions. That has me worried. I'm a good running back, but Petey Jones is a good running back, too. Also with the schools intergrating, we'll have to face all that 'Coach just put him in because that's his son' crap all over again. Like when I was in the nineth grade. That junk was so bad then that I thought about quitting, so Daddy wouldn't have to explain his every move to irate parents, but he told me that, while it was my decision to play or quit, I had just as much right to be on that field as anyone else, and that he wasn't playing me just becuase I was his son, if someone came along, as good as I was, or better, I'd be riding the bench too. Believe me, I've done my share of that too. Oh, well, being fast, at least I can play wide out on the special teams. Jones ain't very good at that from what I've seen.
(Opening scene: The Hammond High players are practicing on thier field, Coach and Sheryl are on the side lines, watching and discussing thier plays. The team lines up, the left side running back is slow to get into position and almost looks as though he's lost in thought.)
I walk to my spot on the field and get ready for the play, even though, my mind is nowhere near the game. The QB puts the ball in my hands and I hestitate for just a second, but that second is long enough for Gerry to tackle me. I fall to the ground and all the air is knocked out of me as Gerry lands on top of me.
"Man, get off me!" I shove him hard. He stands and I sit up, head between my knees, trying to catch my breath.
"I stuck your butt," he laughs.
"COME ON, BJ!!!! YOU CAN PLAY BETTER THAN THAT!!! YOU'RE MOVING LIKE MOLASSES OUT THERE!!!"
*Yeah, thanks, Sis.* Gerry offers me a hand up. I take it and let him pull me to my feet.
"BJ!! Get over here, Son." Daddy, who everybody, including Sis and me, calls Coach, is waving me over. I walk over with sense of dread. Don't get me wrong, Coach ain't one of those coachs who sreams and hollers about every little thing, but not paying attention to the game, esspecially when you are IN THE GAME, is a big NO-NO. You can get hurt badly doing that. In the very least, you can get the wind knock out of you on a simple tackle. I pull off my helmet as I go.
(A tall lanky red head moves across the field, still holding his chest, taking big gasp of air.)
*Yep. That's me. Too tall, legs too long, Daddy's redish-brown hair, though mine's more red than brown, his dark brown eyes, and though he'll never admit it, his same proud attitude.*
"Yes, sir?"
"Are you okay?" He asks.
"Yes, sir," I answer. "Just a little winded."
"Good." He nods.
*What? No lecture?*
"Boy, where is your head?!" Nope, there's a lecture, he was just making sure I was okay before he lit into me. I try a bit of humor, esspecially since the entire team is now watching.
"It's that lump a couple of feet above my....." I stop. The look on his face clearly warns me not to be a smart ass right now. "Nevermind. I don't know, I was thinking. I wasn't paying attention, I guess."
"You guess?"
I nod, dumbly.
"Not only DID you cost your team a TOUCHDOWN, but you could have been HURT. YOU HAVE GOT TO PAY ATTENTION!!! THIS AIN'T CHINESE CHECKERS WE"RE PLAYING HERE, WILLIAM!!!" He yells.
*Boy, my real name. He really is pissed.*
"Yes, sir. I understand, sir." Hey, even I know when to swollow my pride. "It won't happen again, Daddy."
He softens. "See that it don't. I don't won't you or anybody else hurt. Soon as you catch your breath, pick up that football and run it five laps around the track."
*Well, so much for that thought*
Then I realize what he had said.
*FIVE LAPS!!!!!!!!! That's more than a mile!! Jeez!!! Remind me not think around him anymore.*
"What are you looking at?" I ask Sheryl, who is staring at me.
"Somebody who can't play," she answers.
"Whatever, Little Girl." I put my helmet on her head, pick up the ball and take off running. I make one lap and am starting on my second when Alan Bosley comes running down to the field.
*Why ain't he already at practice? He better have to run some laps, too.*
Even though I know I will have six laps to run now, I stop to hear what he is yelling.
"HEY, GUYS!!!! IT'S COMING!!! IT'S COMING DOWN AT THE STORE!!!! THEY WANT TO BURN THE PLACE DOWN CAUSE THAT COLORED KID GOT SHOT!!!!"
Gerry, Ray, and some other guys take off. Gerry grabs my arm as he passes me. "Come on."
I willingly go. I never even see Daddy heading for his truck, until he pulls up in front of us.
"Get in the truck." He's serious. Dead serious, but still no one, not even myself, does as he says.
"William, Gerry, Alan, Ray, if you ever want to play for me again, get in the truck now."
Two more seconds of staring at him and I jump in the back of that old Ford. They could call me a coward if they wanted too. But I have to go home with him tonight. They don't and I have pushed him far enough for one afternoon.
As soon as I get in, the other guys do, too. I guess they ain't as tough as they like to think..
We ride back to school in silence. As soon as we are all in the building, Coach says, "You boys are going to cool off. Come with me and help me finish packing my things."
We are all smart enough to follow.
"Now, Gerry, I know your heart was in the right place, Son," I hear Tyrell saying. "But you ought to know better than embrass the Coach like that."
Gerry mumbles something about not wanting to play with "...those black animals..." as we walk into Daddy's office. There stands a very well dressed black man about the same age as Coach. He's playing with the game ball from our last regional championship.
"Whoa." Alan says. I think he is trying to shut Gerry up. If so, then he is out of luck.
"I see him," Gerry says, defiantly.
"Who are you?" Tyrell asks.
"I'm Herman Boone." He answers, confidently. "The new assistant coach."
"Well, from the looks of things, I'd say we have about all the help we need around here," Tyrell continues.
Coach still hasn't said anything. I turn a chair near the door around, and sit, straddling it like a horse. This is going to be good and I'm not about to miss a minute of it. Coach is too quiet. I know this look. This is the look he gets just before he tells someone, ussually me, off. He looks down at Sheryl.
*Where did she come from?*
She looks back up at him, questioningly. I can tell she don't know what to think about this. She looks at Boone, as Coach gently pushes her towards the door and out of the way. She cooperates but only makes it as far as her big brother's knee before she stops and crawls into my lap. Nine and half years old or not, Sheryl is still very much our baby, mine and Coach's, and I'm going to do all I can to keep her that way as long as she wants to be. I put my arms around her trying to reassure her everything was going to be okay.
Coach and everyone else continues to stare at Boone while he and Tyrell talk. I can't tell what Coach is thinking, as much as I would like too.
"Coach Boone," Coach finally speaks, in his slow even tone. "The school board made the decision to put you on my staff I did not hire you."
That's our Daddy. He says what needs to be said, but he doesn't disrespect the person like Tyrell is doing.
"Well, I came up here to coach at G.W." Boone answers. "I didn't ask the schools to redistrict, I didn't ask to be assigned to your staff, so I guess we are both in a situation we don't want to be in, but I will garantee you this, I come to win."
I can tell he just won a bit of Coach's respect. Though Coach doesn't say a word. Sheryl leans forward and rests her arms on the back of the chair we are sitting in.
"Win?" Tyrell scoffs. He then, goes on about what a good coach Daddy is. I can tell Coach is embrassed, but he has too much respect for the older man to say anything.
"Well," Boone says, almost mockingly. "What an oppurtunity for me, then. To learn from the best."
So much for having won Coach's respect. Coach is from the very old school and you never speak down to your elders, no matter how much of a jerk, they are being.
After a few more tense minutes of discussion, Boone leaves. Coach looks around the room.
"You boys go straight on home," he says. I guess he's no longer in the mood deal with our little trip to the store. "And if I find out you went anywhere else but home, you'll be sorry."
They all nod and mumble, "Yes,sir," on thier way out. Coach Tyrell leaves with them. That just leaves Coach, and Sheryl, and me. The way it always is. The way I like it.
"Well, kids, let's get this place cleaned up." He says, and we get to work. Him and Sheryl pack up boxes and I carry them out to his truck and my car. Most of this stuff will end up at our house, in Coach's office, but some of it will go to T.C. Williams, our new high school. I put the last box in my car and go back inside. It's near 11 p.m. now. Sheryl is fast asleep on a couch in the corner. The school board will be sending somebody out to pick up the furniture and carry it to the new school. Coach is sitting on the corner of his desk, lost in thought. I wish that I knew what he thought about all this, but he's being quiet about it all, just telling me things'll work out whenever I ask. I go and sit beside him.
"You know," he says. "You were just a baby when I came here. Not more'n three years old. Sheryl wasn't even born yet. Your..." his voice drifts off, but I know what he was going to say.
*Momma was still around.*
"You practically grew up in this office." He finishes. "Well, I guess things have to change sometime." He pats me on the back.
"You ready to go, Coach?" I ask. "Sheryl's done passed out on us." I point to her.
He laughs, then turns serious again. "No, you go ahead, though. Take Little Bit, put her to bed. I'll be home in a bit."
"What about all the stuff?"
"Just leave it be," he answers. "We'll do something with it tomarrow."
"Okay." I nod. Then, I hug him. I don't know why. It just seems like a thing I need to do. "I love you, Coach."
He hugs me back, just as tightly. "I love you, too, Son."
I gather Sis up in my arms and take on last look at the old office, and walk out to my Mustang and lay her inside. She's so tired, she barely stirs. *Poor baby. Everythings so twisted and turned upside down.* I walk around to the driver's side of the car and get in. I crank it up and for a minute or two I just look around. I feel kind of sad, knowing this was the last time I would sit in Hammond's parking lot. I took my first dip of tobacca, smoked my first cigerette, got my first kiss, and my first broken heart, all right here in this parking lot. Then with a grin, in true Bulldog spirit, I gun the accelorator, slow let off the clutch and squall the tires as I take off to become a T.C. Williams' Titan in what would prove to be one of the best years of my life.
But, you know the saying, things have to get worse, before they can get better.
If I get good reviews, I'll continue with part two.
Hi, my name is BJ. BJ Yoast and I am 17 years old. I like fast cars, loud music, pretty girls, rodoes, basically all the things most teen age boys like, and a few others besides. I love my family, my friends, my horse, my team, and football. Some poeple think I'm strange, becuase I'm always doing something, pulling a prank on some one, or just acting crazy, other's just think I'm hyped up on dope. But, I'm not. That's just me.
I play for the Hammond High Bulldogs. Of course I play. I'm the Coach's son. Everybody in Alexandria expects me to play and well. I am good, too. Not as good as Gerry Bertier, but almost. I'll make All- American this season, I just know it. I'm not as big as some of the other guys, but I'm tall and I can run like the wind. Maybe that's why Coach made me a running back. Things aren't going to be easy this year, though. The school board decided to intergrate the schools which means some of us and some of the G.W. players are going to lose our starting positions. That has me worried. I'm a good running back, but Petey Jones is a good running back, too. Also with the schools intergrating, we'll have to face all that 'Coach just put him in because that's his son' crap all over again. Like when I was in the nineth grade. That junk was so bad then that I thought about quitting, so Daddy wouldn't have to explain his every move to irate parents, but he told me that, while it was my decision to play or quit, I had just as much right to be on that field as anyone else, and that he wasn't playing me just becuase I was his son, if someone came along, as good as I was, or better, I'd be riding the bench too. Believe me, I've done my share of that too. Oh, well, being fast, at least I can play wide out on the special teams. Jones ain't very good at that from what I've seen.
(Opening scene: The Hammond High players are practicing on thier field, Coach and Sheryl are on the side lines, watching and discussing thier plays. The team lines up, the left side running back is slow to get into position and almost looks as though he's lost in thought.)
I walk to my spot on the field and get ready for the play, even though, my mind is nowhere near the game. The QB puts the ball in my hands and I hestitate for just a second, but that second is long enough for Gerry to tackle me. I fall to the ground and all the air is knocked out of me as Gerry lands on top of me.
"Man, get off me!" I shove him hard. He stands and I sit up, head between my knees, trying to catch my breath.
"I stuck your butt," he laughs.
"COME ON, BJ!!!! YOU CAN PLAY BETTER THAN THAT!!! YOU'RE MOVING LIKE MOLASSES OUT THERE!!!"
*Yeah, thanks, Sis.* Gerry offers me a hand up. I take it and let him pull me to my feet.
"BJ!! Get over here, Son." Daddy, who everybody, including Sis and me, calls Coach, is waving me over. I walk over with sense of dread. Don't get me wrong, Coach ain't one of those coachs who sreams and hollers about every little thing, but not paying attention to the game, esspecially when you are IN THE GAME, is a big NO-NO. You can get hurt badly doing that. In the very least, you can get the wind knock out of you on a simple tackle. I pull off my helmet as I go.
(A tall lanky red head moves across the field, still holding his chest, taking big gasp of air.)
*Yep. That's me. Too tall, legs too long, Daddy's redish-brown hair, though mine's more red than brown, his dark brown eyes, and though he'll never admit it, his same proud attitude.*
"Yes, sir?"
"Are you okay?" He asks.
"Yes, sir," I answer. "Just a little winded."
"Good." He nods.
*What? No lecture?*
"Boy, where is your head?!" Nope, there's a lecture, he was just making sure I was okay before he lit into me. I try a bit of humor, esspecially since the entire team is now watching.
"It's that lump a couple of feet above my....." I stop. The look on his face clearly warns me not to be a smart ass right now. "Nevermind. I don't know, I was thinking. I wasn't paying attention, I guess."
"You guess?"
I nod, dumbly.
"Not only DID you cost your team a TOUCHDOWN, but you could have been HURT. YOU HAVE GOT TO PAY ATTENTION!!! THIS AIN'T CHINESE CHECKERS WE"RE PLAYING HERE, WILLIAM!!!" He yells.
*Boy, my real name. He really is pissed.*
"Yes, sir. I understand, sir." Hey, even I know when to swollow my pride. "It won't happen again, Daddy."
He softens. "See that it don't. I don't won't you or anybody else hurt. Soon as you catch your breath, pick up that football and run it five laps around the track."
*Well, so much for that thought*
Then I realize what he had said.
*FIVE LAPS!!!!!!!!! That's more than a mile!! Jeez!!! Remind me not think around him anymore.*
"What are you looking at?" I ask Sheryl, who is staring at me.
"Somebody who can't play," she answers.
"Whatever, Little Girl." I put my helmet on her head, pick up the ball and take off running. I make one lap and am starting on my second when Alan Bosley comes running down to the field.
*Why ain't he already at practice? He better have to run some laps, too.*
Even though I know I will have six laps to run now, I stop to hear what he is yelling.
"HEY, GUYS!!!! IT'S COMING!!! IT'S COMING DOWN AT THE STORE!!!! THEY WANT TO BURN THE PLACE DOWN CAUSE THAT COLORED KID GOT SHOT!!!!"
Gerry, Ray, and some other guys take off. Gerry grabs my arm as he passes me. "Come on."
I willingly go. I never even see Daddy heading for his truck, until he pulls up in front of us.
"Get in the truck." He's serious. Dead serious, but still no one, not even myself, does as he says.
"William, Gerry, Alan, Ray, if you ever want to play for me again, get in the truck now."
Two more seconds of staring at him and I jump in the back of that old Ford. They could call me a coward if they wanted too. But I have to go home with him tonight. They don't and I have pushed him far enough for one afternoon.
As soon as I get in, the other guys do, too. I guess they ain't as tough as they like to think..
We ride back to school in silence. As soon as we are all in the building, Coach says, "You boys are going to cool off. Come with me and help me finish packing my things."
We are all smart enough to follow.
"Now, Gerry, I know your heart was in the right place, Son," I hear Tyrell saying. "But you ought to know better than embrass the Coach like that."
Gerry mumbles something about not wanting to play with "...those black animals..." as we walk into Daddy's office. There stands a very well dressed black man about the same age as Coach. He's playing with the game ball from our last regional championship.
"Whoa." Alan says. I think he is trying to shut Gerry up. If so, then he is out of luck.
"I see him," Gerry says, defiantly.
"Who are you?" Tyrell asks.
"I'm Herman Boone." He answers, confidently. "The new assistant coach."
"Well, from the looks of things, I'd say we have about all the help we need around here," Tyrell continues.
Coach still hasn't said anything. I turn a chair near the door around, and sit, straddling it like a horse. This is going to be good and I'm not about to miss a minute of it. Coach is too quiet. I know this look. This is the look he gets just before he tells someone, ussually me, off. He looks down at Sheryl.
*Where did she come from?*
She looks back up at him, questioningly. I can tell she don't know what to think about this. She looks at Boone, as Coach gently pushes her towards the door and out of the way. She cooperates but only makes it as far as her big brother's knee before she stops and crawls into my lap. Nine and half years old or not, Sheryl is still very much our baby, mine and Coach's, and I'm going to do all I can to keep her that way as long as she wants to be. I put my arms around her trying to reassure her everything was going to be okay.
Coach and everyone else continues to stare at Boone while he and Tyrell talk. I can't tell what Coach is thinking, as much as I would like too.
"Coach Boone," Coach finally speaks, in his slow even tone. "The school board made the decision to put you on my staff I did not hire you."
That's our Daddy. He says what needs to be said, but he doesn't disrespect the person like Tyrell is doing.
"Well, I came up here to coach at G.W." Boone answers. "I didn't ask the schools to redistrict, I didn't ask to be assigned to your staff, so I guess we are both in a situation we don't want to be in, but I will garantee you this, I come to win."
I can tell he just won a bit of Coach's respect. Though Coach doesn't say a word. Sheryl leans forward and rests her arms on the back of the chair we are sitting in.
"Win?" Tyrell scoffs. He then, goes on about what a good coach Daddy is. I can tell Coach is embrassed, but he has too much respect for the older man to say anything.
"Well," Boone says, almost mockingly. "What an oppurtunity for me, then. To learn from the best."
So much for having won Coach's respect. Coach is from the very old school and you never speak down to your elders, no matter how much of a jerk, they are being.
After a few more tense minutes of discussion, Boone leaves. Coach looks around the room.
"You boys go straight on home," he says. I guess he's no longer in the mood deal with our little trip to the store. "And if I find out you went anywhere else but home, you'll be sorry."
They all nod and mumble, "Yes,sir," on thier way out. Coach Tyrell leaves with them. That just leaves Coach, and Sheryl, and me. The way it always is. The way I like it.
"Well, kids, let's get this place cleaned up." He says, and we get to work. Him and Sheryl pack up boxes and I carry them out to his truck and my car. Most of this stuff will end up at our house, in Coach's office, but some of it will go to T.C. Williams, our new high school. I put the last box in my car and go back inside. It's near 11 p.m. now. Sheryl is fast asleep on a couch in the corner. The school board will be sending somebody out to pick up the furniture and carry it to the new school. Coach is sitting on the corner of his desk, lost in thought. I wish that I knew what he thought about all this, but he's being quiet about it all, just telling me things'll work out whenever I ask. I go and sit beside him.
"You know," he says. "You were just a baby when I came here. Not more'n three years old. Sheryl wasn't even born yet. Your..." his voice drifts off, but I know what he was going to say.
*Momma was still around.*
"You practically grew up in this office." He finishes. "Well, I guess things have to change sometime." He pats me on the back.
"You ready to go, Coach?" I ask. "Sheryl's done passed out on us." I point to her.
He laughs, then turns serious again. "No, you go ahead, though. Take Little Bit, put her to bed. I'll be home in a bit."
"What about all the stuff?"
"Just leave it be," he answers. "We'll do something with it tomarrow."
"Okay." I nod. Then, I hug him. I don't know why. It just seems like a thing I need to do. "I love you, Coach."
He hugs me back, just as tightly. "I love you, too, Son."
I gather Sis up in my arms and take on last look at the old office, and walk out to my Mustang and lay her inside. She's so tired, she barely stirs. *Poor baby. Everythings so twisted and turned upside down.* I walk around to the driver's side of the car and get in. I crank it up and for a minute or two I just look around. I feel kind of sad, knowing this was the last time I would sit in Hammond's parking lot. I took my first dip of tobacca, smoked my first cigerette, got my first kiss, and my first broken heart, all right here in this parking lot. Then with a grin, in true Bulldog spirit, I gun the accelorator, slow let off the clutch and squall the tires as I take off to become a T.C. Williams' Titan in what would prove to be one of the best years of my life.
But, you know the saying, things have to get worse, before they can get better.
If I get good reviews, I'll continue with part two.