Date: Tue, 9 Jan 2001 21:12:30 -0500
From: Nails Nelson <nailsb69@hotmail.com>
Subject: Chapter 10, Basketball Camp

Warning: This story contains sexual implications between an adult man and
two teenagers.  This episode has NO overt or specific sex, but if you are
underage or upset by homosexuality, LEAVE!  All others, Enjoy!

                                  No WAY, Coach!
                               The Bagboy, Chap. 10
                                  by Bob Nelson


"What the HELL is going on, here?" the Head Coach says, barging into the
main Gym.  He looks at each of us, then around the entryway, trying to find
something illegal or immoral that we're doing.  He scowls. angry that he
didn't catch us doing something wrong.

"What are all three of you doing here, anyway?" he thunders.

"I came in to use the toilet, like I signalled you," Charlie responds.

"So did we, a few minutes after he did," David resonds as I nod.  "Then we
noticed he was blinking like he got something in his eye."

Then looking more closely at Charlie's face, he scowls, squints, runs a
finger down Charlie's cheek and asks

"What's that?  Have you been CRYING, for God's sake!?!?"

"Hell no, Coach!  Some dust blew up just as I came in here, made my eyes
water.  I'm going to wash it out if you stop interrogating us like
criminals."

"What the fuck did you say?" the Coach roars.

"He asked why are you treating us like we're suspects or criminals?"  David
replies.

That adds fuel to the Coach's fire.  Gasoline, in fact.

"You will NOT ask what I'm doing or why!  You are here to listen, learn and
obey me!" he snaps.

"When did God step down and tell you to take over?" I ask, taking one step
toward him, hands at my side but steel in my glance -- at least I hope it's
steel and not noodles.

"WHAT?  Who the fuck are you to talk to me like that?" he roars, about 40
decibels louder than before.

"I'm a Professor on this campus, and one of your hosts -- which means you
are one of our invited guests, just like these boys are.  No less, but
certainly NO MORE!!"  I reply, using the Bos'n's Mate voice Dad used on the
pier or the Parade Ground.  "And I don't have to take ANY OF YOUR SHIT,
MISTER!"

"I'm the Head Coach, and in CHARGE of this Basketball Camp, which means I
RUN it, ANY WAY I SEE FIT!  That means all the other coaches and ALL THE
BOYS will LISTEN to me and DO WHAT I SAY!  Any wuss or wimp, or anyone who
talks back WILL be disciplined!"

I lower my voice to just above a whisper, but use a stage whisper for it to
carry -- another technique Dad used in tense situations.  You can't
out-holler these Bull-headed, Bull-necked Bullies, anyway,

"Just what the FUCK do you mean by discipline?"

"YOU can't talk to ME like that!  NOBODY cusses at ME!"

"I have more right to talk to you when you're acting like a shithead than
YOU have to fuck around, cursing these young BOYS!  But I repeat, just what
in Hell do YOU mean by DISCIPLINE?"

"It means JUST WHAT I WANT IT TO MEAN!  If a boy messes up or interrupts
me, he will drop and give me ten pushups -- or twenty.  No sissy fags, no
fuck-ups and no losers at THIS Basketball Camp."

"Does that mean you are the Leader of the Basketball Camp and make ALL the
decisions of right and wrong?"

"DAMNED RIGHT it does!"

"Did you get the top job because you're better, or just better at shouting
and intimidating people?  NO one is right all the time, and I can call you
down on this one point because you ARE wrong when you curse these boys!
They can't answer back, even if they disagree.  You'll break the spirit of
some and they may never amount to anything, if you humiliate them
publicly!"

He glowers at me, glances at both boys to make sure they aren't laughing at
him, but says nothing.

"Does a Leader lead better by words or by example?"  I ask, even more
softly.

"A Leader learns to DO it, then teaches others to do it!  Sometimes I use
words and other times I have one of my Assistant Coaches show the boys what
I mean," he says, in a more normal tone.

"And you show them all the moves and techniques before Camp starts?" I ask,
leading him on.

"No.  I pick the ones who know how to handle the ball, make the moves,
fake, block and shoot.  I don't have time to teach them stuff that any
Coach should know," he says, a little louder.

"You don't demonstrate exact details, even to the Assistant Coaches?" I
ask, raising my eyebrows.

"Hell, NO.  I know it.  They know I know it, and they can do it right to
show the boys how to do it right!"

"Do you teach Driver's Ed at your school, or have you taught it?" I ask,
apparently veering off the matter at hand.

"No, I don't.  I used to, when I first started as Coach there.  What's THAT
got to do with it?"
 he replies with more storm clouds rising.

"Just that teaching is a skill of encouraging any student to want to excel,
but they have to know the goal you have in mind -- then they need feedback
to let them know if they're getting closer to it.  Or is that different in
Driver's Ed and Basketball?"

"Of COURSE that's the way we teach them, and the way we run this Camp!
You've seen us praising the boys who have done it best, and telling the
ones how to do it better who didn't get it right.  David and Charlie are
two of the best, and I KNOW you heard me and the other coaches telling them
that!"

"Yes, I did.  I have told the boys that I admire the way you praise in
public what's good and generally take the boys aside -- or have an
Assistant Coach quietly take them aside -- to tell and show them what to do
to make or stop the play.  THAT is what teaching or coaching is all about.
What I'm asking you NOW is who do you think you are to come barging in to
this place or any place to shout and curse at these boys, trying to
intimidate them and accusing them, and possibly me, of some nefarious,
immoral behavior.  DId you suspect a Bomb Plot, or an Insurrection to
depose you?"  I ask, letting a smile spread across my face to show I'm
facetious on that last question.

This "Bad Cop -- Good Cop" routine keeps him off balance, if done right.
He's trying to decide how to answer.  I've complimented him then turned
around and implied -- hell, I've STATED that he's a poor leader to tear
down the boys whom he's been building up the past three days.  David and
Charlie are looking from me to the Coach and back, heads swinging back and
forth like they're at a tennis match, trying to figure out if I'm pissed,
if I'm going to fight him, if he's pissed or about to whomp up on all of
us, or WHAT.  I turn my head directly toward David, past Charlie, looking
more than ninety degrees away from the Coach, then wink and let the corner
of my mouth farthest from the Coach twitch up and back down.  They both
catch on with a sudden look of comprehension, but quickly cover it to look
like they are still cowed by the King Kong tactics of the Coach.  Since
he's a little unsure whether I'm attacking or praising him, I go on,

"Why DID you come barging in here like that, Coach?"

"I thought something was -- might be wrong."

"WHAT did you suspect, Coach?"

"That the boys -- that you and the boys might -- to make sure that there
wasn't any funny stuff going on in here," he finishes lamely.

"FUNNY STUFF?  What KIND of funny stuff, Coach?" I ask, leaning forward
with an angry glint in my eyes. (The BEST defense is an offense!!  Just ask
all the quarterbacks in those Bowl games!)

"You know -- hanky panky, foolin' around...." he replies even more limply.

"No, I DON'T know.  Boys, do YOU know what Coach is trying NOT to tell us?"
I ask in as frosty a voice as I can manage.

"No, Dr. Nelson."

"No, Sir, I don't have any idea."  {Good boys, and I'm proud neither one
said "Bob."}

"Do you mean something illegal, like drugs, guns, or alcohol, or do you
mean something immoral, like having some young girls or old hookers in here
for the boys -- or some boys in here for them??  Boys, did either of you
bring any of those things in here, or did I?  Or did I promise or imply
that you could have them if you came up here??"

"No, Sir!  Nothing like that!"

"No way, Dr. Nelson!"

"How often DO you check the locker rooms, Coach, and what do you check FOR?
Hoping to find something going on and bust them, or just to get your kicks
by watching?"

"No Fucking WAY!"  Coach is starting to sweat, now.  He wanted to do the
Joe McCarthy routine of Bluster and Bully, but the Coach doesn't have a
U.S. Senate Committee or Special Prosecutor to put the fear of God into
whomever he picks on.  And he certainly is not big and mean enough to do it
all by himself.  Thank God I learned to cover my tracks, NEVER to let
anyone know what my thinking or motives are --- except this man-boy
standing next to me.  My David -- and Charlie too, for the most part --
have followed my leads and twists to put the Coach solidly on defense,
inside his own five yard line, ten points behind, and less than a minute to
play.  Oh, yeah, I should use a basketball analogy, but my Dad and brother
raised me to know a lot more about football -- and that's not much.  But
it's more than I know about Basketball....

"Coach, I admire the way you have organized this Camp.  It's the best I've
seen in eight years of watching them and I've told the boys that.  Your
assistants are all talented and I have seen ALL of you praise the boys when
they do well, individually or together.  THAT's what they'll all take home
with them to be better players for their schools.  DON'T destroy it with
susecting good boys of being bad, cursing, singling out a boy who isn't as
good, or humiliating anyone!  It can sour the whole weekend in a
heartbeat."

"Well, I'm sorry if I upset you boys, or YOU, Dr. Nelson.  It's just that
I'm responsible for all the boys who come to Basketball Camp, and if a
couple head off and are out of sight for more than a few minutes I get kind
of antsy.  All the Assistant Coaches were running plays, so I came up here
myself.  Sorry I did, now.  You won't tell the College Athletic Director,
will you?"

Aha!  Good Cop -- Bad Cop and Dad's voices of command, reason, and probing
worked well, again!

"No, Coach.  It IS your job and your responsibility to insure the safety of
every boy here.  BUT I want to say again that you were WRONG to barge in
here like a bull, and DOUBLY WRONG to curse when you did!  Do you agree?"

"Well, yeah, I kinda see that maybe it wasn't the best thing to --"

"BULLSHIT!  It was WRONG!  Don't you AGREE?  That it was WRONG, Coach??"

He jumps like I'd hit him with a cattle prod, but I'm damned if I'm going
to let him harass or scare these great young guys, or weasle out of the
situation that could have ruined all three of us.

"Oh, Yes, Sir, Dr. Nelson.  I agree.  I was wrong.  Dead wrong to come
barging in AND wrong to curse.  I'm sorry, boys," he says to them, then
"I'm sorry, Dr. Nelson.  I hope you will all forgive me.  I've got to get
back to the courts.  We're almost done.  Boys, your team is up, next.  Are
you ready to play?"  Seldom have I seen or heard a man go from loud and
obnoxious to meek and mild so quickly.  I stick out my hand.

"Apology accepted and all is forgotten.  In fact, nothing even happened in
here, did it boys?"

"What?  Nothing happened that I heard."

"I didn't see or hear ANYthing!"

They each shake the coach's hand with a smile -- the boys smile, not the
coach's hand.

"We'll hurry and be right back."

"Yeah, Coach... be right there!"

He goes out the door and we all wait, aware that each of us is counting --

"eight, nine, TEN!" David counts, hollering the final number.

We all start laughing as silently as we can, but letting out all the
tension that had built up.  I sag, Charlie leans against the wall, and
David bends over almost touching his shins with his head.  Great gasps and
panting huffs, ANYthing to keep it from sounding like laughter, just in
case the Coach is not that far away.

"Go on, guys, do what you've got to do, wash your faces, and LET'S SEE you
play some INTENSE BASKETBALL!"

They zip into the latrine area, I hear their streams hitting the water, two
flushes, the sound of water running in the basins, paper towels ripped off,
and here they are back, in less than thirty seconds.  They look like
they've just had a walk in the park, not a near-death experience.  These
lads are MY responsibility, even more than the Coach's, and I'm pretty sure
Charlie has figured out everything that David and I have done, talked about
or thought about -- he probably thinks we've done more than we have, but he
is one of us, one with us, so I will build and strengthen this wall around
us.  Teach them some ways to fight back if someone else accuses them of
anything without proof, or tries to panic them into admitting to something.
A "fishing expedition" Dad used to call it, when loud-mouthed guys try to
scare weak ones into admitting something that the bully can use against
them.

"Thanks, Bob!" David says, as he runs back in, leans up and give me a quick
kiss on my lips before I can pull back.

Hell, I didn't WANT to pull back, and I stop my hand halfway to my face,
before my reflex action wipes off the kiss.  Charlie blindsides me while
I'm still looking at my David with love in my eyes.  He kisses me just off
dead-center, with a kiss that's a lot more than a "dutiful peck on the
cheek for an uncle."  I don't wipe that one off, either.  Eye candy plus
lip candy, for later.

"YEAH, Bob!  Thanks for pulling it out of the fire!" Charlie says as he
heads for the door.

I reply, "You both know I'd do ANYthing for you -- except go before the
Spanish Inquisition he was trying to use!  Now, I want to see some
BASKETBALL!"

We fling open the gym door and the boys race back to the court, calling to
their team mates, whooping and shouting how they are going to mow down and
mop up the opposition.  None of the other mini teams can make themselves
heard over David, Charlie, Enzio, Tony and Pete.  The Ferocious Five!
Spike and I settle in to watch the final game of this Baskektball Camp with
mixed emotions.  Did all of this happen in just three days?  Two and one
half!  No, just over 48 hours!  They got here Friday at noon and will leave
today, Sunday, at 2 P.M.  So fast, so much has happened -- but in some ways
it went slowly.  A real time warp, like in the best science fiction!  There
they are, MY team, ready for the jump to start the game... my David set,
looking like Michelangelo's statue brought to glorious life, even more
gorgeous and alive than he did just 48 hours ago.  And what's next?  How
will he set his Dad up to "remember" me?  When will they come visit?  How
can I set up an early admission for David -- and Charlie if he wants to
come here, too?  Will their friendship grow stronger as a result of this
weekend, or will it be shaken?  Will they ever experiment with each other
sexually -- or with other guys -- or with girls?  SO many possible paths
ahead of us all, but especially those two handsome boys.  That handsome
Charlie and my beautiful man-boy, David.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

What's next?  Will David's Dad accept Bob as an old friend, wonder about
it, or reject him as some pervert trying to get into David's pants?  Will
David and Charlie have sex -- or does Charlie want all to do it with Bob
AND David, together?  "Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we
practice how not to conceive!"  Feedback, please!  Send it to Nails, at
NailsB69@hotmail.com -- I answer each one.  To get each chapter sooner,
plus lots of pictures of handsome, naked, guys in all sorts of action, come
join us at Gay Vikings: http://communities.msn.com/GayVikings -- and say
"Coming in from Basketball Camp" when asked why you want to join.