Football Nightmare Read online

  “So,” Heck said after a few minutes of silence. “How you doing?”

  “Okay, I guess,” Keith answered.

  There was another silence, which Heck broke again.

  “I was wondering, who’s this guy, uh, Murple, Mertz … I can’t remember the name.”

  “Huh?” Keith blinked, not sure what Heck was talking about.

  “That guy you mentioned last night, the old ballplayer who made the mistake.”

  Keith realized what Heck meant. “His name was Fred Merkle. He played for the New York Giants baseball team, like, ninety years ago. My dad read about this stuff, he told me.

  “Anyway, Merkle was a good baseball player. Well, this one year, I think 1908, the Giants and the Cubs were playing a game. The winner would win the National League and play in the World Series. The score was tied in the ninth inning and the Giants had runners on first and third. Merkle was the runner on first. A base hit would win the game.

  “The next guy up hit a single and the guy from third scored. The game was over, the Giants had won. Merkle ran off the field.

  “Only he hadn’t run all the way to second base. He figured the game was over. That’s what usually happened in those days. Except a Cub player yelled that Merkle hadn’t reached second base, grabbed the ball, and stepped on second. The umpire said Merkle was out and the run didn’t count. They had to replay the game, and this time the Cubs won. They went to the Series instead of the Giants. So, for the rest of his life, Merkle was called ‘Bonehead.’ He played for a long time, and was good, too. But all the fans remembered was that one mistake. Merkle said that when he died, they’d probably carve ‘Bonehead’ on his grave. One mistake. That was all it took.”

  “Huh,” said Heck. “I see. Yeah, that was a bad deal he got. But that was Major League baseball. Everybody watches that. I mean, that’s not what happened to you, you know?”

  Keith sighed. He had known that it would come up again. “Look,” he said. “You don’t get it. It didn’t happen to you. It wasn’t a picture of you lying there on the ground in the newspaper. It was me.”

  “Well, yeah, sure,” said Heck, “but still, people have mostly forgotten about it by now. If you’d just come back and play, you’d —”

  “No. I’m not going to play. I told you that yesterday, and you’re not going to change my mind, so I wish you’d drop it. I know you think you’re right and I’m wrong, but I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “Sure, I understand … but —”

  “No, buts!” Keith brought his bike to a screeching stop. “If you don’t cut it out, I’m going to turn around and go home. You have to promise. Yes or no?”

  Heck braked to a stop and looked at the ground. “I was just —”

  “Yes or no?”

  Heck took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, yes. You win.”

  The boys made the rest of the trip in silence.

  At the pool, Keith spotted a few of the other Bucks in the shallow end of the pool. One was Cody Aarons, who held a large beach ball over his head while a few other boys tried to knock it loose. For a moment he wondered whether coming to the pool had been a good idea, but before he could decide, Cody spotted him and let out a happy yell.

  “YO! Keith, my man! Hey, Heck! Hey, come on in, dudes!”

  Keith waved and smiled. “Be right there!” He walked his bike to where he could chain it up and went with Heck to the locker room to stow his gear.

  While he got his towel out, he tried to think positively. These guys are my friends, my teammates. They’re on my side. Definitely. Absolutely. For sure.

  But he was having a hard time persuading himself of that.

  Once he’d changed, Keith ran over to the pool and jumped in. Grinning, Cody left his other friends, wrapped Keith in a bear hug, lifted him up, and dropped him into the water with a splash.

  “Lookin’ good, dude! Hey, how come you missed the meeting yesterday? You’re going to make it to practice, right? We’re going to be tough this year.”

  Keith shook his head. “I won’t be there, Code.”

  The big lineman stared at Keith, and then shook his head from side to side. “Guess I have water in my ears and didn’t hear right. It sounded like you said you weren’t coming out. But that can’t be right.”

  “Your ears are working fine,” replied Keith. “You heard what I said.”

  Cody looked at Keith as though the other boy were speaking some strange, unknown language. “But … how come? Why —”

  Cody’s eyes shifted away from Keith over his shoulder. Keith looked around and saw Heck, who had evidently signaled to Cody to stop asking questions.

  “Um … sorry to hear it,” Cody mumbled. “But if that’s what you … later.”

  He rejoined the first group of boys. Keith saw him talking to them quietly, after which a few of them looked in his direction. Keith turned to Heck, who had joined him in the pool. “Maybe I should’ve stayed home today.”

  Heck laughed. “You planning on becoming a hermit for the rest of your life? Listen, you don’t want to play football? Okay, then don’t, it’s your choice. But to run and hide just because someone might make some dumb remark about you, that’s a bad idea, period. Lighten up!”

  Keith smiled gratefully at his friend. “You’re right. I’m letting this thing get to me way too much.”

  “Now you’re making sense!” Heck said. “Come on, those guys are having fun!”

  They swam over to Cody and his group, who were tossing the huge beach ball back and forth. Cody saw Keith coming and threw the ball high in the air in his direction.

  As Keith reached for it, he heard one of the others say, “Think you can hang on to this one, Keith?”

  Somebody else snickered. Keith caught the ball, fired it back hard toward the others, and turned away, sure everyone in the pool had heard the nasty crack and was laughing at him.

  Heck caught up to him and grabbed his arm. “Come on, man, it was a joke. Just a dumb joke. The guy didn’t mean anything by it. Chill out and come over.”

  But Keith shook his head. “You go on. I don’t feel like it right now.”

  He climbed slowly out of the pool and sat on a folding chair under a canvas umbrella. He stared at the ground, feeling hurt and angry.

  Would he ever put this behind him?

  4

  That evening, Keith sat by himself in his backyard, looking through a sports magazine but not paying much attention to it, when he heard his name called and looked up.

  Heck and Cody peered cautiously out the back door, as if they weren’t at all sure what kind of reception they could expect.

  “Okay if we sit down?” Cody asked.

  Keith shrugged. “Suit yourselves.”

  Once they were seated, Cody glanced at Heck and cleared his throat. “I, uh, I just wanted to say, that guy who made the stupid remark at the pool today … he isn’t one of the Bucks.”

  “Right,” Heck said. “He was just a creep who happened to be hanging out and thought he was being funny.”

  “He knows different now,” Cody snapped, frowning darkly. “I told him to watch his mouth from now on, or he’d be sorry.”

  Keith managed a weak smile. “Thanks. I appreciate what you’re saying, but you didn’t really have to do that.”

  “Yeah, I know I didn’t have to,” said Cody, hitching his chair closer to Keith. “I wanted to. I mean, we’re friends, right? And the guy was dissing you, and I didn’t like it.”

  Keith nodded. “Well, thanks for standing up for me. I really mean it. But let’s face it. The guy was only saying what a lot of kids have been thinking.”

  Cody rolled his eyes. “But the thing is, that isn’t true!”

  “Cody’s right,” Heck said. “For sure, nobody who ever played a sport would give you grief for what happened in that game. We all know that anyone can make a mistake. It could have been one of us.”

  Cody laughed. “Probably will be one of us next time. And there�
�s going to be a next time.”

  “You shouldn’t let someone like that dude at the pool get to you, that’s the main thing we want to tell you.” Heck leaned forward and stared hard at Keith. “Your real friends know better. It’s important that you understand how we feel.”

  “I know how you two feel,” replied Keith. “And I think probably a lot of the other guys on the team feel the same way — not all of them, but a lot. But if I were to play and drop another pass or two, well … they’d start changing their minds.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Heck protested. “You aren’t going to start dropping passes. So why worry about it?”

  “See, that’s the thing.” Keith shook his head. “I don’t know what I’d do. I think I’d start thinking about messing up the second my number is called. And the more I think about it, the more likely I am to blow it again.”

  Heck and Cody looked at each other, clearly exasperated. “But you’re not making any — Oh, hi, Mr. Stedman.”

  Keith’s father stepped out into the yard. “Hi, boys. Nice night.”

  “For sure,” Heck answered.

  “Mr. Stedman,” Heck said, “maybe you can help us out here.”

  Mr. Stedman squatted next to his son on the terrace. “If I can, I will. What’s up?”

  “We’re trying to talk Keith into changing his mind about football,” explained Cody. “We could definitely use him this season, and we know he’d be a game-breaker for us.”

  “I see,” said Keith’s father, turning to study his son’s expression. “But I don’t see how I can help you with this.”

  Heck cleared his throat and thought carefully before speaking. “The thing is, I mean, you’d like to see Keith play ball with us this season, wouldn’t you? Don’t you think he’s making a mistake, staying away?”

  Mr. Stedman stood up, wincing. “Stiff knee,” he said. “Guess I’m getting a little old. Boys, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can help you here. Whether Keith plays football or not is up to him, and I have nothing to say about it.”

  Cody blurted, “But if you —”

  Mr. Stedman held up a hand as if he were stopping traffic at a crossing. “I meant that. It’s not my place to give an opinion or say anything about this matter unless Keith asks me to say something. Otherwise, I’m keeping my mouth shut.”

  He looked down at his son. “Want me to say anything?”

  “No, I guess not,” replied the boy. “Except … well, except, thanks. For not butting in, I mean.”

  Mr. Stedman patted his son’s shoulder. “That’s all right. Guys, I’ll see you later. And I’m sorry I couldn’t help, but it isn’t my place to get involved here.”

  He went back inside.

  The three boys sat silently for a minute. Keith didn’t know what to say and neither, apparently, did his friends.

  Finally, Heck spoke. “I guess Cody and I sort of hoped you’d change your mind, but … okay, if you won’t, you won’t.”

  “I just don’t think I want to do it this year,” Keith said. “But we’re still friends, right?”

  “Sure,” Heck said, but Keith didn’t think he sounded very enthusiastic about it. “It’s just we won’t be seeing that much of you once practice starts.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Keith agreed, not happy with that notion.

  “Well, maybe we could watch some videos this weekend or go to a movie,” suggested Heck.

  “Sure, that’d be cool,” Keith said.

  Cody stood up, looking unhappy. “I have to go home. You coming, Heck?”

  Heck shook his head. “Go ahead, I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Cody kicked the ground and stood there, looking from Heck to Keith. “Anyway … later, guys.”

  Keith watched Cody walk out of the yard and turned to Heck. “I know you think I’m being a total jerk —”

  “No, you don’t,” Heck cut in.

  Keith was startled. “Huh?”

  “You don’t know what I think,” Heck said calmly. “So don’t say you do. I don’t think you’re being a total jerk at all. But, if we’re really going to talk about this, I’ll tell you what I do think.”

  Keith shrugged. “Go ahead.”

  “I think you feel like it was all your fault that we lost that game, and that’s not true. Billy overthrew a pass in the first half when you were totally open and if you’d caught it we would have had six points more than we did.

  “Cody missed a block that let a guy get through and throw me for a loss. If we’d gotten a first down there we might have scored a touchdown. The tight end didn’t make a move toward the sideline when he was supposed to and if he had, maybe we’d have scored on that series. The —”

  “Okay, okay, I see what you’re saying,” Keith said impatiently. “But we still would have won the game if I had caught that last pass … which I should have and didn’t.”

  Heck sighed and said, “Wow. You really have a high opinion of yourself, don’t you?”

  Stung, Keith snapped, “What is that supposed to mean? What are you talking about?”

  “Anyone else can make a mistake and it’s no big deal, but when you make one, it’s like, ‘Stop the presses! The great Keith Stedman messed up!’ The rest of us guys are allowed to mess up, but not Keith Stedman!”

  “Very funny!” Keith yelled.

  “No, it’s not funny — it’s sad,” Heck said. “You’re the one who’s giving yourself a hard time. If you’d just let it go, so would everyone else. But if you can’t, you’re better off staying out of sports. You’ll just drive yourself crazy, and take your friends along for the ride.”

  He jumped up and walked quickly away. Keith got to his feet and noticed that his little sister was standing there, looking upset. How much had she heard and understood?

  He smiled, trying to look as if everything was cool. “Hey, Trace, what’s up?”

  She didn’t say a word, but it seemed like she might be about to cry.

  “Trace? What’s the matter? Come on, you can tell me, what is it?”

  Very softly, almost too softly for him to hear, she said, “You’ll be mad at me.”

  “No, I won’t. Come on, Trace, I promise I won’t get mad. If there’s something wrong, tell me. Please?”

  “Aren’t you going to play football anymore? Ever?”

  Keith didn’t know what to say.

  “I’m not going to play for a while, anyway. I don’t know about ‘ever.’ But not right now. Did you hear what Heck and I were talking about out here?”

  She nodded. “Uh-huh. You were having an argument.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t call it an argument exactly, Trace. …”

  “And you said you didn’t want to play football and I felt sad.”

  Keith walked over and kneeled down facing the young girl. “Why does my not playing football make you sad?”

  “Because I liked to go and see you play and now I won’t be able to. And the last thing I’ll remember about you playing football will be you dropping that ball and lying there on the ground. If you played some more, you’d do good things and I’d have those to remember instead of that. That’s why I feel sad.”

  She went into the house, leaving Keith standing there by himself, thinking hard about what she’d said.

  5

  The following day was Sunday, and Mr. Stedman was trimming a hedge when Keith walked outside and stood watching him.

  “Hey, Slugger,” said Keith’s father, not looking up. “You slept late this morning, huh?”

  “Yeah … well, no. I was sort of lying there, thinking. Do you have time to talk?”

  Mr. Stedman stopped clipping and stretched. “I could use a break, anyway. Want some lemonade? There’s a fresh pitcher in the refrigerator.”

  “No, I’m okay. I can get you some if you want,” Keith offered.

  “I can hold out awhile. Come on, sit here.” Mr. Stedman led the way and sat on the front-porch steps. “Does this have to do with the con
versation with Heck and Cody?”

  “Yeah.” Keith sat with his father. “Heck’s mad because I won’t play with the Bucks.”

  “Is that right? Hmmm … somehow, that doesn’t sound like the Heck I know.”

  “Well, he sure sounded mad when he stomped out of here. And he said that I think a lot of myself, too. That’s not fair.”

  “How did he mean that? I mean, what do you think he meant? That you’re always bragging about how good you are?”

  Keith shook his head. “No, he knows that I don’t do that stuff.”

  “What, then?”

  “Well …” Keith thought back. “He said that I think it’s okay for other players to mess up, but when I do it, it’s bad.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “That’s wrong! And he ought to know it! I’m not a selfish player!”

  “I don’t think that’s what Heck meant.”

  “Well, what, then?”

  Mr. Stedman turned to face his son. “It sounds like he thinks you expect too much of yourself, more than you expect of other players. It’s like you have a higher standard for your playing than for the rest of the team’s. That’s not selfishness, but it can be a problem for you.”

  “A problem?” Keith looked skeptical. “How can wanting to play well be a problem?”

  Keith’s father sighed. “It’s not wanting to play well, it’s. … Before I say any more, I want one thing clear. Whether you play football or not is your decision to make, and I’m going to try not to push you one way or the other. That’s not my place. I hope that’s understood.”

  “Sure.”

  “All right, then.” Mr. Stedman stood up. “All athletes, no matter what level they’re playing at, no matter how good they are, will make mistakes. People make mistakes, that’s human nature. Sometimes you’ll do it at an especially bad time, when it’ll have serious consequences, or when you’re in the public eye and everyone sees you.

  “Now, it seems to me that what you have to do then is move on. You can learn from it, but you shouldn’t dwell on it. Once it’s done, you have to leave it behind you. And, even more important, you can’t spend your life looking to avoid all the situations where you might mess up. If you do that, you’re likely to end up sitting there and doing nothing at all, or nothing that really matters. You’ll always be afraid, you’ll forever be saying, ‘What if?’ That’s no way to live. You’re thirteen, and you have your life ahead of you. I would hate to see you let this one incident have such a huge effect on you.