Date: Sat, 22 Dec 2012 12:57:02 -0800
From: Douglas DD DD <thehakaanen@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Big Time  Chapter 60

Welcome to the last chapter of "The Big Time". Thanks for hanging
with this long story as well as with the "Perfect Game Series". I know
many of you will not like where the story ended. If you would like to
read my reasoning for why I ended where I did, please read the
Author's Note at the end.  In this chapter, the boys of Mayfield learn
that taking the responsibilities of running an official organization might
just be more than they want to deal with—after all there is also the
business of being a teenager to deal with.

The story is mine. There are minors in sexual situations. Be good, be
safe, and please donate to Nifty.


CHAPTER 60
TEAMWORK

<Seventh grade, Sunday, June 1, Mayfield High School baseball
field>

Eric and Scott showed up early at the high school field. They were
excited about playing on a full size field, even though they knew they
would be back to 80 foot bases the next spring for middle school ball.
Eric was worried about the longer throw, especially after Coach Miller
had told them that there would be times, especially at shortstop and
third, that they might make a routine play and not be able to get the
throw to first in time. The other issue was the pitching distance, which
the younger pitchers like Scott and Eric were very concerned about.
The distance on a regulation sized field was 60 feet 6inches, over six
feet longer than the 54 foot distance on the middle school field.

Coach Miller told them not to worry about it; they would grow into the
size of the field. The boys also knew that as a whole they would be
younger than most teams in the league, Coach Miller pointed out that
they were a talented team that could make up for the age difference
through hard work. But they wanted to play at the highest level
available for their age group and this was it.

A couple of high school seniors were dragging the field under the
supervision of a recreation department employee. Eric saw Coach
Sanders near the third base dugout.

"Hi, coach," he said as he walked up to his middle school coach.

"Hello, Eric. All set for the birth of your baby?" Coach Sanders asked.

"My baby?"

"Yes, your baby. Without you organizing a Mayfield elite travel team
you would be going to Centralia to play, on a good team, but probably
on 80 foot bases."

"I think I might like the 80 foot bases part. But if we played in that
league then guys like Marty and Rodney and Connor and them
couldn't play with us—they'd be too old."

"And as with so much in life sometimes you have to take the good
with the bad."

"Are you all set to watch Coach Miller's first games?"

Coach Sanders smiled and said, "I only get to watch the first game."

"How come you can't watch both?"

"I might not be able to coach you, but there are still things I can do for
your group. Like work the concessions stand during the second
game."

Eric broke out into a big grin fist bumped Coach Sanders. "Make sure
the hot dogs are good and hot," Eric said.

"And the ice cream is cold," Scott added. Other players were arriving
and Scott and Eric left Coach Sanders to be with their teammates.

They were playing a very good team from Olympia in a pair of non-
league games. Coach Miller wanted all of his pitchers to throw from
the new distance and divided up the pitching assignments over the
two games. Eric pitched two innings. Even though he'd practiced from
the longer distance, actually pitching from there was a whole different
matter. He bounced a few pitches and overthrew a couple trying to
compensate for coming up short. After walking the bases loaded in
his first inning and allowing a couple of runs, he settled down and
gave up only a harmless single in his second inning. As Coach Miller
had told the team, they might be a bit young and a bit small for the
field size, but they were talented and smart and would adjust. Eric
realized he wasn't going to be as sharp as he was used to being, but
he did better than he thought he would after his initial jitters. It wasn't
that he hadn't had to deal with fields getting bigger as he got older,
but for some reason the growth seemed more substantial this time.

The Mayfield Falcons won both games, by scores of 7-4 and 6-3. The
Olympia team looked like they were making the same adjustment to
the longer distances and didn't fare quite as well doing it as the
Falcons did. Eric had never thought about the fact that many of their
opponents would have to make the same adjustments. What made
the wins even sweeter was that they were off to a late start getting
games in, while the Olympia team had already played three games.

After the doubleheader was over Marty thought about asking Rich if
he had made up his mind about meeting him after Tuesday's game,
but Rich pointedly ignored him. It was like Rich was determined to
give Marty a taste of the behavior he'd had to deal with the past year.

The next day at school the boys not only talked about the
doubleheader and the difficulties inherent in playing on the larger
field, but how cool it was that Coach Sanders worked at the
concession stand. It was one other reason Eric thought Coach
Sanders would be the perfect replacement for Coach Collins. The
school board still hadn't announced his fate, but Eric, and a few other
boys, both in middle school and in high school, were hoping the delay
was because they wanted to be really positive they had good reason
to fire him.

The Falcons next game was Tuesday and was their first league
game. Because Coach Sanders and Coach Miller wanted the players
to concentrate on the middle school season they hadn't scheduled
any early games, so the first league game came up quickly. They
were scheduled against a team from Centralia.

Tuesday morning Tama asked Scott when he was going to break up
with Eric.

"Pretty soon, just don't bug me about it. I gotta pick the right time.
You know I want to go out with you, but he's my best friend and I
don't want to hurt his feelings too bad." What he didn't tell her was
that he still enjoyed the sex with Eric, even though they didn't do stuff
as much as they used to.

That evening they played a veteran Centralia team that had a lot of
eighth and ninth graders on it. But the Falcons held their own and lost
6-4, with Rodney pitching six strong innings. He was big and strong
enough that the extra pitching distance didn't affect him as much as it
did some of his teammates.

After the game, Coach Miller told the team that the Centralia coach
had been impressed with them. "He told me that his team was young
like you guys last year and they got pretty soundly thumped a lot of
the time. He said they couldn't hang with the older teams the way you
guys hung with his team.

"I thought you kids played a really good game today. Don't get
discouraged if we lose a few games this year. This is all about
learning to play at a high level." He looked at Rich. "Rich made a
great stop at shortstop in the fourth inning, but his throw was late.
That's not criticizing Rich. Next year he not only will make that stop,
but he will be big enough and strong enough to make that play. That's
why all of you will be working out in the school weight room during the
summer...to help get us to where we want to be."

After the meeting broke up, Rich came over to Marty. "Do you still
want to talk?" he asked.

"Yep."

"Okay. Meet you at the Barn." He turned around and walked away
before Marty could respond.

The two boys showed up at Bob's Burger Barn, each wearing a
Falcons t-shirt and their baseball pants. Rodney and Vince were
there and they asked Marty and Rich to sit with them. Marty and Rich
politely declined, saying they had some things to talk about. They
placed their order and sat in a corner booth.

The two teens engaged in small talk about baseball while they waited
for their burgers and fries. "We could've beat those guys," Marty said.
"We're just as good as they are; I don't care how many ninth graders
they got on that team."

Rich agreed, saying he thought Coach Miller took the loss too lightly.
"He should be telling us we're going to win all of our games, not that
this is some kind of learning year."

"Well, it's a learning year for him, too, I guess. He'll find out how good
we are and that we always play to win."

They were interrupted by Bob, the owner, bringing them their order.
"Good game, boys. They might be a bit bigger and older, but you held
you own," Bob said.

"We should've beat them," Marty reiterated. "We're just as good as
they are."

"I don't doubt that," Bob said, "but experience does make a
difference."

"Working hard and being better makes a difference, too. Next time
they better watch out because we'll be ready to kick their sorry
asses," Marty said with more than a hint of cockiness.

"You're here late," Rich said. "Do you work here twenty-four seven or
what?"

"No, I just had some things to get done. I went to your game. I had to
watch the mighty Falcons play their first league game, especially
since I'm a sponsor. Plus, I had to see my new ad on the fence,
which is there thanks you guys. So, I decided to give you some
personal service when I saw you two sitting over here."

"Thanks, Bob," Marty said as he bit into his thick, juicy double
cheeseburger.

"Good luck on Friday. I have to miss that one."

Bob went back behind the counter as Marty and Rich ate their late
dinner. Both of them had gotten money from their parents to spend
for a post-game meal.

"So, what is this important thing you want to talk about?" Rich asked.

"I have to give you an apology," Marty said.

"You have to give me one, not you want to give me one?" Rich asked.

"I guess it's some of both."

"What are you apologizing for?"

"I'm apologizing for being an asshole and treating you like shit for the
last year."

"What brought this up? Why are you suddenly apologizing for what
you did?"

Marty stuffed the last bite of his cheeseburger into his mouth and
chewed before answering. "Because I've been told that for me to stay
sober and not drink no more I need to make amends to all the people
I hurt."

Rich stuck a fry in his mouth and said nothing, his gaze looking over
Marty's shoulder instead into his former friend's eyes.

"I treated you bad because I wanted to blame you for me drinking,
and for me being a prick, and for making me gay. It was easier to
blame you than it was to blame me."

"Making you gay? How can I make you gay? I mean, you're not gay,
so how can I make you what you're not? I don't get it."

Marty took a swallow of his soda in order to create another pause
while he gathered his thoughts. He decided that since he was
supposed to be honest about things in his life, this was a good time to
put that principle into practice.

"Well, you see...I am gay," he said softy but assuredly.

"What? So you really think I made you gay? How, by fucking you the
last night we ever spent together? Is that how?"

Rich was overcome with confusing and conflicting emotions. Marty
looked around to see if anybody was sitting close enough to hear
them. But it was close to closing time and the seating area was
almost empty.

"No. You never made me gay. Nobody ever did. It's just how I am;
only I could never admit it. So, I blamed everybody else for it and I
said it's why I got drunk all the time." For some reason, Marty could
feel a welling of tears, which he fought. I might be a fourteen year old
faggot, he thought, but I still gotta behave like a man and not cry. The
influence of his father was a part of him whether he wanted it to be or
not.

"So now what?" Rich asked. "Do you just want me to say you're
forgiven and be your friend again? Is that why you're apologizing?"

"No. You don't have to be anything. I'm apologizing because it's what
I'm supposed to do if I'm going to lead a sober life. And I'm supposed
to ask you what I can do to make things better. That's what I'm being
told."

"Told by who?"

"My sponsors."

"Well, I'm not going to forgive you and I'm not gonna be your friend.
You treated me like total crap for a whole year and I just can't go say,
`Oh, it's okay, Marty, let's be friends again.' I'm not gonna do it."

Marty put his garbage on his tray and stood up. "You don't have to be
my friend ever again. I know why you feel like you do and I deserve it.
But I just wanted you to know I was sorry."

"Sorry for how long? Until you decide to get drunk again because
that's the only thing that can make things better for you?"

Marty couldn't answer that question, because he was afraid Rich
might be right. "All I can say is I won't get drunk today." He picked up
his tray and took a couple of steps away from Rich. Then he stopped
and turned to Rich. "But if you ever want to be my friend again, I
won't have resentment...I'll be your friend, too."

Rich watched Marty bus his tray, pick up his equipment bag, and walk
out the door. What Rich saw was a boy who was a confident, strutting
athlete, but who still wasn't sure about his own place in the world, and
who, for all his cockiness, was still a lonely teenage boy.

<Thursday, June 5, Mayfield Middle School>

Scott received birthday congratulations all morning from his friends. It
was his thirteenth birthday and he was reveling in the attention. He
busily reminded his invited friends about the birthday party at Pooh
Bear's pizza on Saturday afternoon. At lunch he asked Tama if
maybe they could make out at her house or at his house since it was
his birthday. She handed him a birthday card and said, "You know the
deal, Scott."

"It would be, like, a free birthday present. Please? We don't even
have to take any clothes off."

Tama finally relented, saying she'd come to his house after school.
But it would be kissing only, and that would be all she would do until
he talked to Eric. She also said she would have to leave by five.

"That's cool. My mom usually comes home around then and I have
practice at six, anyway." He then wandered off to the baseball lunch
table to sit with his friends instead of sitting with Tama. He shouldn't
have been surprised when she let him know after school she'd
forgotten that she had other plans.

Connor and Marty also had a chat during lunch. "We're gonna finally
have our party tomorrow," Connor said. "Vince says that because of
all the fucking no drinking rules we all made up it's just gonna be for
us guys on the baseball team. That way nobody can go nark on us
because we're all on the team.  We had to keep putting it off because
everybody had other shit going on, and then we have these stupid
doubleheaders and the party at coaches and all that shit. But now it's
ready to go."

"Who all is going to be there?" Marty asked.

"Well, Vince, cuz he lives there. And me, Jerome, Rodney..."

"...Rodney? He never goes to drinking parties."

"He's been to a couple. He says he's going because there's no girls
going to be there and he only fucks girls when he's sober." Marty
shook his head thinking he couldn't even fuck one when he was
drunk.

"The twins and Lars said they're gonna try to be there. Scott's
coming..."

"Scott? He don't even drink," Marty said.

"Gotta go to your first drinking party sometime," Connor said.

"I guess. It just seems weird is all. I mean, Scott."

"And Gavin. He's been before. Danny maybe. He'd like to bring Carl,
but Carl's dad would kill us all if he found out. Hunter maybe. And
you."

"Fuck no. I'm not drinking no more."

"How long since you had anything?"

"Almost six months. I get a six month chip next month."

Connor laughed out loud. "A chip. Shit, we're your friends, you gotta
be with us. Look, Marty, if you can go for six months without drinking
that's proof you ain't no alkie. You know you ain't and we know you
ain't, so fuck everybody and come join us."

"We did agree on our own rules," Marty said.

"Fucking shit, since when have you followed rules? You're scaring me
you're getting so weird."

"I'm not coming."

"What are you going to do after the game, Friday, sit at home and
watch TV? Damn, you've gotten really boring since you started this
quitting drinking bullshit." Then a thought hit Connor. "You aren't so
far gone that you're gonna end up narking us out are you?"

"Hell no. You're my friends and teammates. Ain't no way I do that.
But, I just want to say about following rules that it was us, not the
coaches, who made the rules. If we can't follow our own rules, does
that say anything about us and how good we will be?"

"We made up those rules to keep the coaches happy. Everybody on
every team drinks beer and smokes weed, so those rules don't mean
shit when it comes to winning and losing."

"Only if you're talking about winning and losing on the field," Marty
said. But before Connor could react, the two of them could hear a
wave of excitement from the table next to them. Noah was looking
down at his phone and the boys next to him were craning their necks
to see what he was reading.

Marty walked over to the table and asked what the commotion was
about.

"I just got a text from dad," Noah said. "The school board didn't renew
the contract of Coach Collins. There's going to be a new high school
coach next year." The boys suddenly realized that a new era in
Mayfield Mustang baseball was about to begin, and that in an indirect
way, they, the Go to State Team, had something to do with the
startling event.

<Friday, June 6>

The Friday evening game was a league game against a team from
Tumwater.  Eric was the starting pitcher, and though he struggled at
times with the longer distance, he pitched a smart game for five
innings, leaving with a 4-3 lead. Coach Miller could see that Eric was
tiring and brought Rich in to pitch the last two innings. He shut the
Tumwater Bears down on one hit over his two innings. The Falcons
played their usual hard-nosed style of baseball and gutted out a 5-3
win to even their league record at 1-1 and raise their overall record to
3-1.

The boys had a great deal of confidence, bordering on cockiness, as
they gathered for their post game meeting with Coach Miller. The
meeting turned out to be a defining moment for the team and its
relationship with Coach Miller.

While the boys had been together almost all year with their meetings
of the Go to State Team and as teammates on the Mayfield Middle
School Titans, they had been practicing and playing under Coach
Miller for only three weeks. Until the Titans had played their
championship game, Coach Miller had run light practices, letting
Coach Sanders set the tone with his practices. But now that the team
was all his he'd been driving them harder and raising his
expectations. He could see some resentments building up, especially
in the eighth graders. After Thursday's practice he and Coach
Sanders discussed the team while enjoying a cold beer on the large
deck in the back of the house.

"My problem isn't with the seventh graders," Coach Miller said. "I
can't imagine having a greater group of boys to work with."

"I hear you there," Coach Sanders said. "Your issue is with the eighth
graders, who more or less invited themselves into that group from
what I understand."

"Well, they're not bad kids. But they don't seem ready to go all out
like the seventh graders do. I have detected some under the breath
grumbling and have gotten a few looks from some when they are
asked to produce more."

"I am willing to bet you've seen the trademark rolling of the teenage
eyes."

"Not directly to my face, but I know it's there, just like the grumbling."

"With Connor and Marty leading the pack, I would imagine."

Coach Miller shook his head. "Actually, Marty's been great.  He's
been leading the pack in positive ways. You're right about Connor—
and I'd put Vince right there with him. The rest of them follow Connor
over Marty more often than not, while at the same time the seventh
graders would probably run through a few walls for me."

"If you give them time, some of those seventh graders actually have
the clout to get the eighth graders to listen and step it up. Eric isn't
afraid of any of them, nor is Kevin. I'd say those two are the leaders
of the seventh grade group, with Noah acting as their conscience and
Bobby as the example for them all to follow."

Coach Miller went on by saying, "I'm willing to bet that we are as
talented as any team in the league, but we're young, and we need to
step it up to the next level to compete. No, we need to step it up to
win. Right now we're happy with competing, but by the end of the
summer we have to step on the field expecting to win."

"So, what do you plan on doing?"

"I don't want to be the one to start something. I want one of them to
cross the line, and then find out who is actually running the show."

"And there's your problem in part, although it shouldn't surprise you.
The eighth graders, being the thirteen and fourteen year olds they
are, would want to see if they can run the show even if they hadn't
been instrumental in picking you as their coach....and mooning you
on your first official day," Coach Sanders added with a chuckle. "So, I
guess you're giving them some rope and hope somebody yanks on it
too hard and falls on his ass."

"That is the plan."

"Good luck. It's a good plan, but that doesn't mean it's going to work."

"I know."

Coach Miller would have been surprised if he'd known somebody was
going to step over that figurative line the very next day. He would not
have been surprised if somebody had told him that Connor would be
the one to step over it.

Coach Miller used the after game meeting to point out what they did
well in the game and to remark on the work they still had left to do.
He answered a couple of questions, told them where the team and
parents providing rides would meet on Sunday for their doubleheader
in Shelton, and dismissed them.

The team had met in the middle of the grass infield. As the boys
stood up to leave and get their gear from the dugout, Noah asked a
seemingly innocent question, although it was the kind of blunt
question only Noah could ask off the cuff.

"Is Coach Sanders going to apply for the head coaching job at the
high school?"

"I really don't know Noah. We haven't really talked about it."

"Oh come on, dude, he's your boyfriend. You know you two talked
about it," Connor said with a smirk on his face.

Coach Miller turned towards Connor and glared at him, saying
nothing. The smirk didn't leave Connor's face as he said, "Come on,
dude, everybody knows how it is with you two and nobody cares...I'm
just saying you guys gotta talk about something in bed."

The withering glare kept drilling a hole right through the center of
Connor's body. The rest of the team took a step or two back. Connor
stepped a bit into the group of eighth graders, looking for support
from his teammates.

"Dude?" Coach Miller said with a hint of venom in his voice. "Dude?"
He took some steps towards Connor, who took one more step back
into the group of eighth graders, only to find they'd moved even
further away from him.

"Who do you think you are, calling me dude, Mister Perkins? To you it
is Coach or Coach Miller. There is nothing else you are permitted to
call me." Coach Miller had yet to raise his voice, but the character of
his voice didn't require him to.

Connor was a bit shaken as he took a couple more steps away from
his fuming coach, but he quickly put on a show of false bravado for
his friends and teammates. "Come on, Coach," he said, putting a
phony emphasis on the word coach. "You know we picked you as our
coach which means we can call you whatever we want."

Coach Miller kept coming at Connor as Connor kept backing away.
"You got the word Coach right. I am the Coach, and when it comes to
running this team, enforcing the rules, and getting the respect of you
and the rest of the players, you will remember that you all agreed that
you are not the boss—I am the boss. You gave me the chance to be
your Coach, and that means I am the one running this show. Is that
getting through to you Mr. Perkins?"

By now the rest of the team had gathered at the third base dugout,
listening to Coach Miller's upbraiding of Connor as he kept stepping
towards Connor and Connor kept stepping back. Finally, Connor
turned his back to Coach Miller and walked towards his teammates.
Coach Miller followed right behind him, his voice rising as he let
Connor know who the boss was, what he expected from him as a
player and a person, and just what he could do about it if he didn't
like it. At no time did he use an expletive, yet the boys could almost
hear the unspoken words between the lines of the lecture.

When Connor got within a few steps of his teammates, the eighth
graders, without a word being said, turned their backs to him. Rodney
started it, with Jerome, Marty, Rich, and Vincent following him, and all
of the seventh graders following the lead of the eighth graders.
Connor was stunned at the total lack of support, at his teammates not
having his back.

Coach Miller couldn't fail to see what had just happened. He knew
he'd just won a major victory, and he also knew enough not to rub it
in. He stopped and dropped his voice as Connor turned to look at
him, his teammates all facing away from him.

"Don't bother bringing your uniform on Sunday. You're sitting out both
games." The Falcons had sixteen boys on the roster, but by league
rule could only suit up fifteen for league games. There was no limit for
non-league games. The Sunday double header consisted of one
league and one non-league game, although numbers weren't a factor
that weekend as Noah and Bobby were away on a trip with Noah's
family. "And you DAMN well better be there."

He turned and left the field. Connor turned to his teammates, and with
a hint of whine said, "What, I can't get the support of my teammates?"

It was Jerome's one word answer that shut Connor up. "Nooope."

It was at that point that everyone knew who the boss of the team was.
The boys might run the Go to State committee and all it stood for, but
Coach Miller ran the team, without question. The part that pleased
Coach Miller as he left the field was that it had been the eighth
graders who had taken his back rather than Connor's. Coach Miller
knew right then, that in their own way, the eighth grader group was
just as dedicated to winning as the seventh graders were. He also
knew that he would need to sit Connor down for a one-on-one chat,
but that would be for later. First, Connor would have to show how
serious he was by showing up for a double header in which he
wouldn't be playing a single inning and rooting for his teammates who
had just shoved him under the bus.

That signature moment not only set the tone for Coach Miller, but it
would for Coach Sanders as well. Not only that, their actions showed
that the eighth graders stood together in their expectations of each
other. They may have had different ways of showing it, but they had
picked Coach Miller knowing what he expected from them and were
ready to have his back. They understood that a lot of people in town,
from sponsors, to teachers, to people interested in sports, were
skeptical of what they were trying to accomplish and were waiting for
them to fail.

The boys were determined to prove the skeptics wrong. Connor's
moment of defiance was a wakeup call to the eighth graders. They
realized that they had to stand together and back up the coach as
well as the seventh graders or the Go to State dream would be over
before they even completed a single year together.

It was a little before nine as the boys headed for the parking lot to
drop off their gear with their parents to be driven home, or to be
driven to wherever they were spending the night, or simply to walk to
wherever they were going. The talk amongst them was the
confrontation between Coach Miller and Connor. Vince, Marty, and
Rodney put their arms around Connor and assured him they weren't
against him, but that he'd stepped out of line and had to deal with the
consequences himself. Connor wasn't buying it, but he did say
maybe he'd think differently after he got a little drunk at Vince's.

"Or maybe you'll be more pissed off yet," Marty said, something he
knew from his own experience.

That Friday had been a crucial day for the Falcons and the Go to
State Team. Anybody around the town who knew what the boys on
the Mayfield Falcons were doing, or planning on doing, would have
had his eyes opened by what he observed had they been there.

Vince was having a beer party at his house for his teammates. He
said the first beers wouldn't be poured until nine-thirty to give
everyone a chance to get there, or sneak there, as the case may be.
Connor went to Vince's house with Vince. There was a great deal of
tension between the two, especially when Vince told Connor he was
sticking with his promise not to let anybody drink until ten o'clock.

"That's only twenty minutes," Vince said. "You can last that long."

"I just played a baseball game. I'm thirsty.

"Drink some water."

"... and after what happened I want to get wasted, I don't care what
your dad thinks."

"I don't blame you." Vince wasn't in the mood to be confrontational,
but he had made a promise. "I'll work to keep you away from dad so
he won't notice how drunk you get."

When Marty walked off the field he saw Mr. B and Jeffrey waiting for
him. He couldn't help but smile at seeing his "little brother."

"Hi, Marty. You guys won."

"Yes, we did."

"Your coach got really mad."

"Yes, he did."

"Are you going to spend the night with me."

"Sorry, not tonight. But I will soon."

"Why not?"

"I just have things to do."

"What?"

Go to Vince's and drink beer is what, Marty thought. He knew that the
person he could tell about how badly he wanted to drink was standing
right in front of him. But he also could hear Connor reminding him he
was going to end eighth grade only once, and telling him how his
friends were more important than a stupid coin that he could always
earn when he got older. Doing six months again can't be that hard,
Marty thought. I mean, I've proven I can do it.

Besides, Connor was really down after what happened with Coach
Miller after the game. This was a time for all of his friends on the team
to stand behind him after turning their backs on him. Kind of like
making an amend, Marty thought. I need to be there for my friends
and teammates tonight more than ever. Vince's father won't let us get
too drunk and I can just start my countdown over again tomorrow.

"Nothing important; I just want to chill tonight," he told his young
friend. He immediately felt a horrible wave of guilt wash over him as a
result of the lie he had just told the little boy who trusted him and
worshipped him.

Mr. B gave Marty a look that said he didn't believe a word of it, but
didn't say anything. He had a strong feeling Marty was thinking about
drinking. It wasn't his role to tell Marty not to drink or stop him from
drinking. His role was to teach Marty how to live the kind of life where
he no longer had the urge to drink, or if he did, to have the tools to
know how to deal with it. He was confident Marty was getting there,
but if he needed to go back out and experiment to find out if he was
really an alcoholic, then that was how it would play out.

"Stop by my house at eleven tomorrow if you want to go to a
meeting," is all Mr. B said.

Marty nodded and walked away. He knew his mother had come to
the game and was happy to see her car at the far end of the parking
lot. He didn't live that far from the field, but he also didn't want to have
to carry is equipment bag and bat home.

As soon as they got to the house, Marty changed out of his uniform
and went back downstairs. "I'm going to Vince's. I might stay the
night."

"Okay, sweetie." The word "sweetie" made Marty cringe. "You played
a good game today. Have fun and call me of you're staying the night."

Marty's mother never said much, making Marty think of her as the
non-mom sometimes. But at least she came to most of his games
and she rarely nagged him about stuff. "How come dad couldn't come
to the game?" Marty asked. He knew the answer, but he still had to
ask, because he knew the answer would fuel his resentments against
his father, and if he felt really resentful it would overcome the guilt he
had about going to get drunk at Vince's party.

"You know he had that big darts tournament in Centralia. If it wasn't
for the tournament, I'm sure he would have been at your game."

"Whatever." Strangely, Marty felt better. Now he had an excuse to
drink because he was pissed about his dad being an asshole.

Marty said good-bye and headed for Vince's house. He rang the bell
and Connor answered the door. "Whoa, are you here to drink?" was
Connor's greeting.

"I'm doing it for you, dude," Marty said, with heavy emphasis on the
word "dude."

"You're alright, bro. The beer begins flowing in five minutes. Fucking
Vince is at the keg looking at his fucking watch. Talk about an anal
freak."

Marty walked in, knowing his nearly six months of sobriety were
almost over, not knowing if he was doing it for a friend in need, or if it
was because he hated his father. He didn't care what the reason was,
he was looking forward to guzzling down a cold beer.

After the game Lars went to Kevin's house with Kevin, Korey, and
their parents. He was going to spend the night there. He and Kevin
had talked about going to the party and getting drunk together for the
first time. But Kevin had another idea, one that would keep them out
of trouble, but still let them drink some beer together. Kraig had told
him about their dad giving him and Hunter all the beer they wanted,
thinking it would convince them they didn't like it. He was right, as
both boys said the beer tasted like piss. Kevin convinced his father to
let him and Lars try drinking beer, since Kraig had been allowed to do
it.

"Only if Lars's dad agrees." Lars dad had agreed, but placed a limit of
two on his son, and only as a one time thing, although he was
convinced Lars wouldn't like beer. But when the time came to grab
their allotted ration, Kevin and Lars never moved from Major League
Baseball, which they were playing naked in the twin's room. Being
naked wasn't the reason they didn't leave the room. Kevin walked
around the house in his underpants or naked frequently, and Lars
was used to doing it, although not entirely comfortable with being
naked where Kevin's parents could see him.

No, the reason was much more unexciting than being naked. It had to
do with the contract the two boys had signed after the Falcon team
members had agreed on the rules regarding alcohol and drug use
during the season.

"We signed it, we should live by it," Kevin said.

"But nobody's going to know," Lars told him. "Besides, everybody's
going to be at the party, including your brother and Hunter."

"I don't care. I'm the usual starting catcher on the team, and that
makes me a leader and if I'm going to be a leader I should follow the
rules. I mean we made them up and agreed to them, so we should be
able to follow them."

"Now you're starting to sound like Eric," Lars said.

"Is that such a bad thing? You know he's not going to be there. We're
not there. We can do this in August when we don't go breaking our
own rules. I mean our dads owe us now for turning down the beer."

"Whatever, you're still turning into a dork."

Kevin punched his best friend lightly on the shoulder. "Not when it
comes to sex," he said, "which you will be finding out soon when I
fuck your ass."

Kevin told his dad that he and Lars wouldn't be drinking the beer, but
that he owed them. His father just nodded, but was happy with the
decision. It was the one he'd hoped for. He had forgotten about the
written contract, or he probably wouldn't have made the offer at all.

Kraig was supposed to stay at Hunter's house, but they told Hunter's
dad they were staying at Danny's house. Where they actually ended
up was at Vince's house. They decided that while beer might taste
like piss, it might be worth tasting it again so they could get drunk for
the first time and do it with their friends and teammates.

Jerome was honest with his parents when he told them he was
spending the night at Vince's house. He just left out the part about the
keg of beer in the basement. He showed up at Vince's just before
nine-thirty.

While Rich wanted to support his teammates and be at the party, he
wasn't keen about the drinking and getting drunk aspect of the event.
He told Vince his parents weren't going to let him out of the house for
the night. Vince told him all of the other eighth graders would be
there, so he should find a way to come.

"Even Marty's gonna go?" Rich asked.

"I'm not sure, but that's what I heard."

Rich digested that piece of information and made his decision. So
much for Rich and his amends, he thought. He lied to me about being
sorry and about not drinking again. If it just means he's going to just
go and keep on drinking and keep on being an asshole then his
amends weren't worth shit. I don't want to be around him like that, so
I wouldn't go to that party even if my parents did let me go.

Instead, Rich spent time in sex play with his ten year old brother
Mikey and his friend Drew. Taking turns sucking each other's dicks
was a lot more fun than watching Marty make a butthead of himself,
Rich thought while sucking Drew's two-and-half inch cocklet for the
first time.

Like Rich, Carl was stuck at home, but for a different reason. He and
his dad were going fishing early in the morning, so he couldn't spend
the night anywhere. He knew Danny was going to the party and he
told his best friend to have fun.

Bobby and Noah were in Noah's parent's SUV along with Lisa, Nicky,
Shane, and Lisa's friend Tonya. They were going to the resort in
Eastern Washington they had to bypass because of the Middle
School championship games. They wouldn't be back in Mayfield until
Monday night.

As Eric left the eventful post-game meeting he realized he'd be
spending a Friday night with just his family. Not that he had anything
against spending time with his mother and father, but he knew his
teammates would be having a good time at Vince's party. He wasn't
going to go because he was the one who had helped formulate the
rules about drinking during the Falcon season. The board had passed
the rules unanimously, and so had the entire group. He had been
disappointed in Connor giving Coach Miller shit, but he was ecstatic
over how the entire team had the coach's back.

But now they were going to throw that all away by flaunting the rules
they had approved of themselves and having a big drinking party. He
felt like they'd all made a commitment to be the best they could be,
and getting drunk together wasn't a part of that bargain. Eric saw no
reason why they couldn't wait until August when the season was over
and have their party then.

He felt a pang of loneliness as he walked out of the ballpark. He
hadn't felt this way since his first month living in Mayfield. He made
up his mind that he didn't want to be alone that night. He wanted to
be with his teammates who had stood up for everything the Go to
State idea was about.

"Hey, Danny, do you mind if I...um...spend the night with you and
Scott?"

"For real?" Scott asked.

"Yeah."

"Cool," Danny said. "Go ask your parents, but don't let mine hear.
They think I'm spending the night at Scott's house."

Eric asked and got the okay. The boys changed in the parking lot, not
an uncommon occurrence in the world of youth baseball. Seeing a
boy standing in the parking lot in nothing but his boxers or briefs
happened often.

They stuffed their gear in the requisite cars, saying they were walking
to Danny's house, or Scott's house, or whatever house it was they
claimed they were staying at. The community of boys had become so
tight knit that nobody questioned where they were going. Where they
actually went, of course, was to Vince's house.

As they walked they talked about getting drunk for their first time ever
and how much fun it would be. Eric said he wasn't going to drink
beer, that he was just going only to be a good friend and teammate.
He was going to respect the rules they'd set up and he wouldn't try to
talk his friends out of doing what they were going to do.

"The rules said you can't go to a place where kids are drinking either,"
Danny reminded Eric. "I mean, if you're going to follow the rules and
all..."

"So, I'm not perfect," Eric said, even though he wished he was.

"That's nice to hear," Scott said with a touch of sarcasm.

When the boys arrived at Vince's everybody was happy to see Scott
and Danny at their first drinking party and astounded to see Eric show
up.

"Wow, this is going to be the bestest party ever," Connor said. "All of
the seventh graders are growing up and getting old enough to want to
party. Now we're all together and making up for what happened
earlier." Connor still saw the issues between him and his teammates
as being their fault, not as a result of his own actions.

"Two minutes until I draw the first beer and officially start this team
party," Vince said as the three seventh graders entered the
basement. Everybody on the team was there except for Rich, Carl,
Noah, Kevin, Lars, and Bobby. The only person at the party who was
not on the Falcons was Gavin, who'd played on the middle school
team. He didn't turn out for the Falcons because he would be gone
on a long trip with his family and would have missed much of the
season. He'd fought a losing battle to not go on the trip. He was
looking forward to his party so he could feel part of the team for at
least one night.

And so, on a Friday night that had already been eventful, eleven boys
were prepared to have a beer bust. They weren't the only boys that
age to have a drinking party, but statistically they were in the minority.
For Eric, Kraig, Scott, and Hunter, it would be their first beer party. As
soon as the beer poured and the first drink was taken there would be
no turning back. All of them would be in violation of the contract they
had written themselves.

If any of them were aware of the dichotomy of the evening, of drinking
beer on the same day they stood up for their coach in a confrontation
with a teammate and of their breaking a contract they had written
themselves, they justified it by saying it was because their team
needed the bonding after what they had done to Connor earlier. It
was all part of bringing them together to meet their goal. Anybody
who thought about it would agree that what they were doing wasn't
something terrible.

They were a cocky group, one reason why they were willing to break
their own rules. They were convinced that they were right in what
they were doing. A lot of good things had happened to them over the
last year—a lot of good things.

They had formed the Go to State Team, successfully organizing
something the adults of the town couldn't or wouldn't do. They had
become a close knit group of boys, even if they were in two different
grades. They had played on an undefeated middle school
championship team. And now they were learning they could compete
on a full-sized baseball field with older players, even if the game had
become considerably more difficult.

Winning and success can build cockiness, even in the best of people.
This is what was happening to the Mayfield seventh and eighth grade
baseball players, even Eric, who was wishing Noah was in town so
he could be at his house rather than in Vince's basemen. At the same
time he wondered what being drunk was like.

But one thing a truly great team needs to have is a dose of humility.
These boys had shown humility often, but right now, on this late
spring Friday night, they had forgotten the importance of being
humble. They were cocky and full of themselves after a seventh
grade year that Eric called the best one of his life, at least up to his
junior year. The other boys would agree on how great the past year
had been, even Marty, who for awhile had learned humility simply by
putting in the work required to lead a sober life.

To learn what it truly takes to be a winner, sometimes you have to
learn how to lose. To learn the value of a great time in your life,
sometimes things have to get rough. Sometimes the balloon of
cockiness needs a dose of the kind of hard knocks their parents talk
about to burst it.  In the coming year life was going to give the boys
some lessons, but on this night they weren't thinking of the future,
they were thinking of Vince getting ready to start the first beer party
for many of them.

But before he could draw the beer the doorbell rang. Connor, who'd
been acting as gatekeeper, went to see who it was. Nobody was
more surprised than Kraig to see Kevin and Lars come down the
stairs into the basement. Rich and Carl were now the only two Falcon
boys who were in town who not in Vince's basement.

Yes, they were a cocky crew, full of themselves, not thinking of the
lessons that life was soon going to dish out to them. The big time was
not only where they were, they were getting the feeling that they were
the big time. They were tweens and young teens who knew they were
totally in control of their lives and their futures, that life's lessons were
for somebody else, not for them. The boys of Mayfield were all
together and ready to party.

THE END

Author's Note: I ended here because we have reached a huge
decision point for the team. The actions the boys take over the next
few minutes of the story will have a huge impact on their thinking and
on how they feel about each other. While the boys have taken on a
huge responsibility in operating the Go to State Team (officially the
Mayfield Mustang Travel Team), they are still, after all, young teens.
They are faced with the same angst and drama (real or imagined) as
all kids their age. The question for some of them is whether Eric's
dream of back-to-back State High School championships in the far
distant future should take precedence over their teenage desires.

Most of you know how the first part of Eric's dream comes out. But
what happens their junior year is only part of that dream. What occurs
over the next year after they make their decisions at the party very
much affects how the second part of Eric's dream comes out.

Part Three becomes a bit dark, as the boys find the wheels coming
off of the organization they had worked so hard to create. Some of
the causes are exterior, but some also come from within as
misunderstandings, petty jealousies, and individual desires displace
the sense of teamwork that had been developed.

I am about 80% finished with writing Part 3.  The story will need to go
through rereading and polishing, all of which will take some time.
Ironically, if Part 3 goes as planned, it will be the shortest section of
the trilogy even though it covers the longest time frame. But the boys
keep making me add chapters so we'll see what happens.

My guess is that Part 3 will be ready for posting by early April. It does
not yet have a title. I have three ways to let you know when Part 3
starts posting. I have a large mailing list used only to announce two
stories and I will email those of you on that list. I have a smaller one
that announces each chapter and I will email those of you on that list.
Some of you are on both and I apologize in advance for you getting
two emails. For those of you not on either list, I will do as I did to
announce "The Big Time" by sending out an afterword to this story
letting you know the title of the last part of the epic Mayfield baseball
trilogy. Thanks for reading.