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From: "Rev. Cotton Mather" <revcottonmather@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} RP - Playing the Game by R.C. Mather 24/30 (mf soccer)
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Date: Sat, 23 Apr 2005 12:10:03 -0400
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Enjoy!

Rev. Cotton Mather
Senior Pastor,
Church of the Erotic Redemption
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/ReverendCottonMather/www
http://www.storiesonline.net
www.ruthiesclub.com

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**If I had to do it all over,
I'd do it all over you**

<1st attachment, "PTG24.txt" begin>


---------------------------------------------------------------------

Welcome to the Church of The Reverend Cotton Mather. This
story is the sole property of the author, and may not be copied or
downloaded for the intent of profit. Permission is freely given for
anyone to download or copy for their personal pleasure or use, as
long as there is no intent to charge money or barter for the
privilege of acquiring this material.

(copyright 2001, Rev. Cotton Mather)

E-Mail all comments to RevCottonMather@hotmail.com
Don't be shy!  I enjoy hearing from you.

---------------------------------------------------------------------




PLAYING THE GAME
by Reverend Cotton Mather



- 24 -

CONTAINED GRIEF AND ANGER




The arrangement my parents worked out was that my dad was going to
drop me off at school in the mornings, and my mom would be waiting
for me at the end of soccer practice in the afternoons.  I climbed
out of my father's car the next morning and walked dejectedly into
school about five minutes before my first class was to start.

I sat down next to Jake and growled at him.

"Thanks a lot, pal.  'I won't get caught.  You can count on me,'" I
mimicked him derisively.  "I guess I know now what your word is
worth," I added disgustedly.

"Look, Sean, I'm really sorry.  But we really got caught red-handed.
When Jaimie's dad found out about it, he was really pissed, you know?
Going on and on about how I stole his daughter's innocence, I could
go to jail for rape, all sorts of shit like that.  I panicked, okay?"

"That's great to know, Jake.  That makes me feel a whole lot better."

"Yeah, well, you at least didn't have to face Mr. Jacks.  I didn't
think I was going to leave the room alive, he was so mad."  He seemed
to shiver at the memory.  "You know, Jaimie's sister Tara has been
spying on us, I think.  She may have been the one who ratted on us."

"Why would she do that, Jake?"

"Ah, hell, I don't know.  She's really been acting weird lately.
Remember the picnic?  She hasn't gotten any easier to be around."

"That's just too freaky.  Okay, Jake, maybe I can understand why it
happened.  But that doesn't make my situation any better."

"Yeah, I know.  All I can say is that I'm sorry, Sean.  I really am."



I quietly told Molly what happened when I saw her at lunch.  She was
very upset that she was only seconds away from being caught in my
room, but that feeling passed very quickly.  She got a bright look in
her eyes.

"You want to live dangerously, Sean Porter?" she whispered.  "I
might have another plan to come visit you one of these nights."

I nearly choked on my soda.  "Christ, no, Molly!  Are you nuts?"

She chuckled.  "Maybe I am," she murmured.  "Maybe I just am."




True to her word, my mom was there to pick me up after soccer
practice.  It was a cold, silent ride home, and a cold and silent
evening spent in my room, catching up on schoolwork.  No radio, no
stereo, no noise was allowed during my incarceration.  I went to bed
early, a little scared that I would hear the door creak open and see
Molly standing there, but nothing of the kind happened.

The rest of the week was more of the same.  I talked to my friends
at school, but had no contact with anyone after I got home.  It
helped that I was trying to work myself into exhaustion during soccer
practice.  Coach Neville had unknowingly put a lot of pressure on me
as Skip's replacement, and I wanted to do the best I could do.  I was
messing up a lot during practice, which was making some of my
teammates nervous and a little mad, but my attitude was that I could
mess up during practice, as long as I played well in the game.  And
my goal was to play well when it counted, and not worry too much
about how practices were going.

The only truly bright spot to the week was on Thursday afternoon,
when Coach Neville announced to the team that Theo had been brought
successfully out of his coma, and was awake and alert.  That news
cheered everybody up considerably.

Finally it was Friday, game day.  This was to be our first game
without Skip and Theo, and it was a home game.  There was a general
announcement at school in the morning, asking the student body to
support the team, and we were expecting standing room only at the
game.

I was sitting in the locker room with my teammates, half listening
while Coach was giving us some last-minute instructions.  I was
nervous as hell.

"Now, remember, people, that this team will probably test our right
side early on."  Coach Neville looked over in my direction.  "So,
Sean and Kevin, be ready for anything.  Sean, you're an unknown
quantity to our opponents, so don't be afraid to show them what
you're made of.  Kevin should be able to head off some of their
attacks, and our sweeper and keeper will be watching out, so just go
out and play your game."

I nodded, and looked over at Kevin.  He was sitting with his head
down, lost in his own thoughts.  Thinking about Skip and Theo, no
doubt.

Finally, it was time to take the field.  We trotted out and began
our warm-ups.  When the starting lineups were announced and my name
was called, it still startled me.  I was still half expecting Skip to
show up and take his accustomed spot on the field.

We took our positions, and the partisan crowd in the stands gave us
a standing ovation as the referee blew his whistle to start the game.
It was a great show of support for the team, and we appreciated it.

Just as Coach Neville had predicted, the Hamersville Lions did try
our right side at the first opportunity.  Now that the game was
underway, my nervousness was gone, and I could see how their plays
were designed.  I've been in baseball games when the ball seemed like
it was the size of a grapefruit, and I couldn't miss hitting it, and
this game was like that.  The soccer ball looked to be about the size
and weight of a basketball, moving in slow motion across the field,
and I seemed to have plenty of time to get into position to make a
play on it without any interference from the Hamersville midfielders
or forwards.  I was trapping the ball and moving it up at will,
dribbling forward or passing it up to Kevin whenever the Lions worked
it over into my area.  Three times, then four, they deliberately
tested our defense on my side, and each time they were soundly
rebuffed.  Finally they gave up on the maneuver and tried our left
side.  They were no more successful there, either, and by the
halftime whistle we were up 2-0.

The first 45 minutes of the game went by so fast, I was still
feeling incredibly energetic.  I trotted over to the sidelines with
the rest of the team, grabbed a paper glass of water, and poured it
over my head.  I reached for another glass to drink.  Kevin was
there, handing me a glass, a huge smile on his face.

"You're playing great, Sean.  I don't think they're going to be
trying to get by you anymore this game."

John Pennington chimed in.  "That first steal was incredible, Sean.
Way to go.  I guess I don't have to worry about that side of the
field after all, do I?"

"Oh, yes, you do," I said.  "It's probably just beginner's luck, so
don't go falling asleep on me, okay?"

"All right," said John with a laugh.  "You just keep playing the way
you're playing, though, and we'll be fine back there with nothing to
do."

I was jittery with all the adrenaline pumping through me, anxious to
get back on the field.  I hopped up and paced the sidelines, wishing
the whistle would blow soon so I could start running again.  I looked
down the bench and saw Coach and Trent leaning over a dismayed Eric,
both of them talking intently to him at the same time.  Eric looked
from one to the other, nodding at each of them in turn, a towel over
his head and an untouched cup of water in his hand.  I didn't notice
anything in the first half that should have caused them to be
yammering at him, but then again I was so intent on protecting my own
turf that once the ball left my area, I just tracked it down the
field, instead of paying attention to who was doing what with it.

The ref blew his whistle to start the second half, and we all
trotted out to take our positions.

The full 45 minutes of the second half seemed to move in some sort
of dreamlike state.  On the one hand, the time flew by so quickly, it
seemed like I was out on the field for about seven or eight minutes.
On the other hand, it was like everything was moving in slow motion.
I had plenty of time to get to the ball, and each time I would pass
long, the ball would arc majestically through the crystal air, taking
its sweet time to land just where I wanted it to.  It was a magical,
very scary evening, full of contained grief and anger.  At the end of
it all, we won the game by a score of 4-1.

After the game, as I was sitting on the bench with the rest of the
team, the adrenal glands finally ran out of production.  I went into
a severe case of the shivers, so bad that I could hardly stand.  Eric
and Jorge and Kevin helped me back to the locker rooms and sat me
down on a bench.  Eric ran out to get my father, who came in to find
me almost comatose, shivering and exhausted from the emotions of the
game.  My dad took one arm, Eric took the other, and they guided me
out into the parking lot and into the back seat of my dad's car,
where I finally just collapsed and pretty much passed out.

I vaguely remember the car doors slamming, the car starting up, and
the tires crunching through the gravel of the back parking lot.  My
mom and my dad were talking about me on the way home, but it all
sounded like a huge hive of bees in the car, buzzing and hovering
around my ears.  I couldn't make out a word they were saying, and I
just didn't have the energy to care as I lay there, mostly
unconscious and completely wasted.



The next week was a very strange combination of sadness, euphoria,
and grinding boredom.  Our tiny local paper had covered the game, and
their report was picked up by the Metro Times on Monday for their
High School Sports section.  The human interest side of the story,
about our first game after Skip and Theo's accident, was the focus,
but they did also have a write-up about the game itself.  Eric
Johnson was singled out as "the new speedster in the midfield" and
praised for scoring a goal on his first start.  They also painted an
entirely too flattering picture of our defense in general, and Sean
Porter specifically, bantering about phrases such as "playing
exceptionally well under extraordinary circumstances", and "a
surprisingly volatile defensive style", whatever that means.  If they
had seen me in my dad's car after the game, they probably wouldn't
have been so complimentary, I thought.

Coach Neville announced to the team that Theo was having difficulty
coping with the results of the accident, and suggested that we make
an effort to stop by the hospital and visit with him sometime this
week to try to cheer him up.

Poo-Poo was arraigned on manslaughter charges and was still in the
local jail.  The others who were with him were released on bond, and
the rest of the Bulls had changed their ways, in light of the
troubles facing their leader and friends.  They were back in school,
but they were making an effort to dress preppy, showing up in new
clothes, with their hair cut and clean, and keep a very low profile.
It didn't work very well.  They were still hazed and harassed for
their association with Del Toro.

Another interesting factoid surfaced during that week.  It seemed
that Allison Moseley, the buxom ditz that was hanging on Theo at the
pool party, was the object of Vinnie Arilio's affections.  He was so
enraged when he heard about Theo doing her that he may have convinced
Richie to go out looking for Theo that Saturday night.

I was still under house arrest myself.  Dad dropped me off in the
mornings, but by the end of the week he was getting pretty irritated
with the routine.  Mom picked me up in the afternoons, and I spent
the rest of the time at home, either up in my room doing homework or
watching TV with the rest of the family.  Fortunately, Molly's better
instincts kept her from trying to sneak into my house.  I missed
kissing her and holding her, though, and I know that she was missing
me, too.  On Wednesday at lunch, she told me just how much she was
missing being with me.

We were sitting together at one of the long tables in the cafeteria
with a bunch of other kids, and it was noisy and boisterous in the
large room.  She was wearing a plaid wraparound skirt with a big
brass safety pin as an accessory holding it together, and a fuzzy
sweater that fit her very well.  She leaned over to whisper
something in my ear.

"I really miss you, Sean," she breathily said.

"I miss you, too, Mol," I answered.

"No, Sean," she said.  "I really, really miss you."  She flicked her
tongue against my earlobe.

I flinched back.  "What are you doing, Molly?!?"  God, not here in
the lunch room, I thought.

She grabbed my hand and pressed it to the inside of her thigh, under
her skirt.  She kept her hand on top of mine, to keep me from jerking
it away.

"Trying to let you know how much I miss you, silly."  She tried to
move my hand up further on her leg, but I was nearly frantic in my
efforts to look calm while I tried to yank away from her.  As it was,
I wasn't going to be able to stand up anytime soon because of her.

She nipped my earlobe between her teeth and bit down lightly,
sending shivers through me.  "What if I told you I wasn't wearing any
panties?" she whispered.  That sent even more shivers through me.
She grabbed my wrist with both hands and pulled my hand up further on
her leg.  I felt the bottom seam of her underwear as my fingers
brushed against her damp pussy.  I sighed, whether in relief or in
frustration I wasn't sure.

She chuckled throatily as she let me go, her skirt falling back in
place under the table.  "You're just too easy to flip up, Porter,"
she said.  She turned back to her lunch as if nothing had happened.

"Molly, I can't help it if I'm grounded.  I wish I wasn't too, you
know."

"Well, you'd better figure something out soon.  I'm really
getting...itchy."  She wadded up her wrappers and stood up to leave.
She gave me a wink and sauntered away, hips swishing her skirt from
side to side, knowing I was watching her.

I groaned in frustration.  I was done with lunch, but I still
couldn't stand up without embarrassing myself.  Damn her, I thought
to myself.  She was really going to get me in hot water some day.



Our game that Friday was an away game.  We took a school bus to
Rockton Heights High School, and a convoy of kids from school
followed us to the game.  This game was against our toughest rivals
in our conference, and we were all worked up about coming away with a
victory.  There were only three more games in the regular season, and
we wanted to be playing at our peak for the playoffs.  This game
would be a good test for our realigned left offense, as well as our
right defense.

Practice this past week had gone well, especially after our win the
week before.  We worked on plays, and made mistakes galore, knowing
that it was all a learning process for us as a team.  I hoped that
the mistakes would be left on the practice field again.

The game was surprisingly emotional.  Rockton Heights asked their
fans to give a moment of silence in honor of our fallen players, and
the entire team came over to our bench and shook our hands before the
starting lineups were announced.  It brought a lump to my throat, and
I don't think I was the only member of our team who suddenly had
blurry vision.

The game was every bit as tough as it was hyped to be.  Their
defense was strong, and they had one of the best forwards in the
state on their team, playing in the middle.  Their left forward,
playing on my side of the field, was a cagey senior who was not going
to let a sophomore like me get the best of him.  He was trash-talking
at me through the first half, taunting and daring me to challenge
him, both on and off the ball.  Just before the end of the half, he
took a give-and-go from his midfielder and tried to end-run me, but I
slid down and managed to knock the ball out of bounds.  On the throw-
in, Rockton sent most of their players up, leaving only two defenders
and the keeper back, trying to make the most of a scoring
opportunity.  I saw that they were going to throw across to the
middle, so I signaled to Kevin to switch, and I raced over just as
the throw was made.  I got there in time to step in front of the
intended receiver, trapped the ball, and headed upfield as fast as I
could go.  Their defensive midfielder angled over to cut me off, but
I saw Eric streaking down the middle, wide open and calling for the
ball.  I passed it over to him and took off past the startled
defender, into the open space on the side.  Eric trapped the ball,
took two steps with it, and rocketed it back over to me.  The last
defender was caught between us, undecided about who he should cover,
and his momentary hesitation cost him.  He ran toward me, leaving
Eric unguarded, so I crossed the ball to him, and he powered it into
the back of the net unobstructed.  I ran over to him, yelling and
screaming, and he jumped up into me, knocking us both to the ground.
We got up just as the rest of the team got over to us to congratulate
us on the goal.  We trotted back over to our side for the kickoff,
and a moment later the whistle ending the first half sounded.

The second half didn't go quite so well.  Rockton made some
adjustments to their game, and scored two quick goals in succession
before we could figure out their changes.  The game see-sawed back
and forth from then on, first Rockton on the offensive, and then us
attacking, but no one scored until a hand ball was called inside the
box on one of their defensemen.  We scored on the penalty kick, and
time ran out in regulation with the score tied, 2-2.

We played a ten-minute overtime period scoreless, and had one more
overtime period to play in sudden death.  If nobody scored, we would
have to go to a penalty-kick shoot-off to decide the game, something
neither side wanted.  We were on the bench trying to catch our breath
before the start of the second overtime period.  The batteries were
just about drained on all of us starters.  Coach was considering
substituting some of his players in favor of fresh legs, but in the
end opted for experience on the field at this crucial stage.

In 20-20 hindsight, it was a mistake.  Rockton did substitute, and
their fresh players were able to control the ball, while we were
always one step behind the ball because of our weariness.  In the
sixth minute, they had a corner kick against us, and they made the
most of it.  The kick came out to about 18 meters out.  Kevin made a
play on the ball, but stumbled as he went for it.  The Rockton
midfielder passed it back to the kicker on the side, angling out from
the corner, who fired it in at the goal.  He was mine to cover, and I
didn't get to him in time.  John tried diving for it, but was a
fraction too late, and the ball hit the back of the net and made it
flutter.  Rockton had defeated us in the second overtime period, 3-2.
We congratulated them, trudged over to the bench to pack up our gear,
stripping off shoes and sodden socks and shinguards and stuffing them
into our bags.

We walked dejectedly to the bus and climbed on for the long ride
back to our school.  On the way back, as we were sucking down water
from a big cooler set up in the back, Coach tried to put a positive
spin on the game, congratulating us on our play, and admonishing us
that one loss so far in the season was of little consequence.  We
were all too tired to do anything but sit there and listen to his
words wash over us, each drawn in on our own thoughts about where we
might have done better during the game.

By the time we got back to the school, the caravan that had gone to
support us at the game had already arrived.  Instead of leaving to go
home, nearly all the kids and parents had stayed in the school
parking lot to wait for our bus.  They were applauding and cheering
us as we stumbled out and onto the blacktop of the parking lot,
surprised and gratified at the show of support.  I saw Molly, and
Heather and Evan, and Toby and Jen and Sam, and Jake and Kayla, and
Josh, and everybody else there, standing around us in a semicircle as
we gathered our gear and moved off into the crowd.  My parents were
there, too, with my brother Stephen, and my dad grabbed my bag and
carried it to the car as my mom put her arm around my shoulder,
heedless of the grime and sweat, and held me close as we walked
slowly through the parking lot.  I crawled into the back seat and lay
back, my head lolling against the rear cushion.

As he started the car, my dad said, "You played a great game
tonight, son.  You know, your mother and I have been talking about
you.  We think you might have been grounded for long enough.  We'll
talk about lifting at least part of your sentence in the morning."

"Okay," I mumbled, too tired to say more.



(Continued in Chapter 25)
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