Lost & Found-Senior Year
Douglas Fox
Lost and found
Senior Year
By
Douglas Fox
Lost and Found-Senior Year
This story is a fictional erotic tale. It contains descriptions of teenagers having unprotected sex. Do not read if you are under eighteen or live in a community that finds explicit sexual stories illegal.
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life.
I appreciate comments from readers. You can contact me at douglas_fox482@yahoo.com
Kyle Martin returns to Penn State for his senior year. Can Kyle and his teammates achieve their vision – “On to Phoenix” and a national championship? This volume takes up where Lost and Found – Junior Year ended. Lost and Found: Freshman Year, Sophomore Year and Junior Year can be purchased at www.bookapy.com.
Copyright © 2007, 2011, Douglas Fox
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Epilogue
Chapter 65
Sunday, August 5th
I pulled into the parking lot beside Pollock Commons a few minutes before four o’clock. I grabbed my key from Housing and Residential Life before heading back to the Nittany Apartments. The place was buzzing as forty-four football players moved into their homes-away-from-home for the next nine months.
I grabbed a luggage cart and loaded it with my things before pushing it to my apartment. Virtually every player greeted me with a hearty, “Hey, Coach, welcome back,” “Hey, there’s our hero,” or something similar. I acknowledged everyone as I headed for Apartment 12.
I parked the cart by my door and picked up the first box. I literally bumped into Damian in the doorway as I tried to go in and he opened the door and tried to go out. “Hey, Coach. Welcome back to campus,” Damian said.
“Have you been here long?” I asked.
“About an hour,” Damian said.
“Is Trevor here yet? How about Chip?”
“Chip has two more days of classes,” Damian explained. “He didn’t have a choice except to be here. I haven’t seen Trevor.”
“I guess we’ll run into him eventually,” I said. “I’m moving my stuff in now.”
“I have to move my car over to the East Parking Deck,” Damian said. “I’ll give you a hand when I get back.”
“Thanks, man,” I said. I carried my boxes and bags inside, distributing them to the kitchen, living room and my bedroom, as appropriate. Damian rejoined me a few minutes later. We worked about ten minutes before the third corner of the leadership triumvirate appeared.
“Big guy! You’re back!” Damian proclaimed.
“I am,” Trevor agreed as he and Damian exchanged bear hugs. “Hey Coach, my hero!” Trevor exclaimed when it was my turn.
“Don’t you start,” I protested. “I had enough of that hero crap last week.”
“That’s a good thing you did,” Trevor countered. “Anyway, what did you expect? A feature on Sports Center – of course it’s a big story. You’re going to get that all season.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I replied. “It really wasn’t that big a deal.”
“Tell me about what happened,” Trevor insisted. I related a bare bones version of the story of the rescue, making sure to credit Matt, Dave, Josh and Cody. Damian and Trevor knew them from their visits to campus.
“That’s quite a story, Coach,” Trevor said. “You may disagree with the word ‘hero’ but not many people will agree with you. When you pull an unconscious boy from the bottom of the pool and he lives, most people are going to consider it heroic.”
“I’m just proud of my staff,” I replied. “They kept their heads and did exactly what I wanted done.”
“As did you,” Damian said.
“I guess,” I admitted. “Let’s get this last load inside, Damian. We can help Trevor after that.”
Metal clattered together as Damian picked up the last box. “What’s in this, Coach?”
“You’ll like that one,” I replied. “My mom and dad gave me a complete set of pots and pans for my birthday.”
“Cool!” Damian exclaimed. “I can’t wait to put these babies to work.” Damian happily carried that box to the kitchen while I carried my box to my bedroom. We tackled Trevor’s boxes next. It took about twenty minutes to get my buddy’s things moved into our apartment.
“Where’s Chip at?” Trevor asked as we finished. “I know he’s around somewhere. His shit is scattered all over the apartment.”
“I saw him when I got here,” Damian said. “He headed over to the Lasch Building. He wants to get in some more study on Nebraska’s defense. He’s worried about them.”
“He should be,” I agreed. “They’re going to be nasty. But we can’t overlook Kentucky or Temple. They will put up a fight too.”
“Yeah, they will,” Damian agreed.
We finished moving Trevor’s things into the apartment around five o’clock. We spent the extra time until the team’s supper talking about our summer experiences. Chip returned from his video study session just before supper time. The four of us joined the stream of juniors and seniors as we headed across the Nittany Apartment grounds to Pollock Commons. Everyone was in a great mood. It reminded me of our camp staff reunion at the start of the summer. This time I was reuniting with my football family.
“Who is going to quiz the freshmen after dinner?” Damian asked.
“I found some good questions for them,” I offered.
“Good, you’re doing it,” Trevor said.
“I thought it would be better if we double teamed them,” I replied. “One of us can ask them the question and the other can educate them with the answer… or we could each take one of the three questions I have and do both question and answer.”
“I like the second idea better,” Trevor said.
“Dibs on the Pattee question,” Damian interjected.
“I’ll do the Hartranft question,” I suggested. “You do the Beaver Stadium question first.”
“OK,” Trevor agreed. After a pause he looked at me and asked, “What’s the Hartranft question? I have no idea what that one is about.”
“It’s an easy question, but hard to answer,” I replied. “I’m going to ask who Hartranft Hall is named for.”
“I have no idea even though I lived in it for two years,” Trevor said.
“I don’t know that one either,” Damian admitted.
“You will when I’m done with the freshmen,” I promised. We joined the crowd of underclassmen going into Pollock Commons and followed the group to the Training Table. We greeted our friends and teammates as we joined the serving line.
I spotted G. J. DeLuca at a table with eight freshmen. I knew they had to be his kids from the fourth floor of Hartranft Hall. Ben Witte had six freshmen crowded around him in line for dinner. That would be our third floor Hartranft crew. Joe Cleveland arrived a few minutes later with the final six freshmen. They were housed on third floor of Mifflin Hall. G. J., Joe and Ben were our resident assistants in the dorms this year.
Trevor, Damian, Chip and I went through the line for our dinner and then went looking for a table. Christian, Denzell, Shawn and their new roommate, Dave McCall, had room at their table. Dave had taken G. J. DeLuca’s spot in their apartment when G. J. became an RA.
We talked and caught up on each other’s summers as we enjoyed dinner. I got a lot of ribbing, not unexpected, about my rescue earlier in the summer and all the publicity it had generated. Trevor, Damian and I ate quickly and took our trays up to the cleaning station.
The three of us circulated around the room, greeting teammates and letting the leadership group know they had a meeting at our apartment after Coach Burton’s team meeting that evening. Beer would be provided.
Trevor, Damian and I watched the team’s progress with dinner. When it looked like everyone was done, I gave Trevor and Damian a nod. We strode to the front of the cafeteria and motioned for silence. I almost put the Scout sign up but caught myself. The room took about a minute to get quiet.
Trevor announced, “Would all freshmen please join us at the front of the room?” Damian and I watched to make sure the freshmen who started classes in January joined them.
“Davis twins, this includes the two of you,” Damian said when he spotted Ian and Troy still sitting at a table.
“Markovich, don’t slouch,” I commanded when I noticed Mark trying to get out of view. “Get up here with the other freshmen.”
When all twenty were assembled in the front of the dining hall, I began. “Black shoes, plain uniform with no name on the back and a white helmet with a blue stripe – that’s Penn State football. You stand here today thinking you’re worthy of the name Nittany Lions.” I stared hard at the group and demanded, “Are you worthy?” I received head nods and a couple weak yeses in response.
“Are you worthy?” Trevor demanded. “Jenkins, who is Beaver Stadium named for?”
Omar Jenkins, one of our new defensive ends stammered, “Umm… uh… somebody named Beaver?”
“Somebody named Beaver?” Trevor responded. “You have got to be kidding me! You think you should be a Nittany Lion and you know nothing. James A. Beaver was a prominent lawyer in this county. He raised and served as colonel to the 148th Pennsylvania Volunteers in the Civil War. Colonel Beaver was a trustee and acting president of our university. He also served twice as governor of our state. That, gentlemen, is who James Addams Beaver was.”
“Markovich,” I demanded. “You live in Hartranft Hall, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Mark answered.
“Who is Hartranft Hall named for?” I solicited.
Mark pursed his lips, let out a sigh and said, “Some general or governor or something. I don’t know, Coach.”
“Not a bad guess,” I allowed. “James Frederick Hartranft was a governor and a general. He grew up outside Pottstown. He raised two regiments. The first was the 4th Pennsylvania Volunteers, a three-month regiment at the beginning of the Civil War. When they went home, he raised the 51st Pennsylvania Volunteers. Colonel Hartranft served in numerous battles, rising to brigade and then division command by the time of the campaign around Richmond and Petersburg in 1864. He ended the war with the rank of Major General. James Hartranft won the Medal of Honor for his service at the First Battle of Bull Run. After the war he served two terms as governor of our state. That is who James Frederick Hartranft was and who your dormitory honors.”
“Turner, it’s your turn,” Damian said. Grant Turner, the first-year tailback from Williamsport cringed a bit and then steeled himself for his ordeal. “Who is the Pattee Library named for?”
Grant shook his head sadly. “I don’t know. Enlighten me”
Damian explained, “Pattee Library is named after Professor Fred Lewis Pattee, longtime professor of American Literature here. Professor Pattee’s other claim to fame is that he wrote our university’s alma mater.”
“It’s a great song,” Trevor said.
“Wouldn’t everyone like to hear it?” I asked to the audience. I tried not to laugh as the freshmen cringed. They knew what was next.
“That’s right freshmen,” Damian announced gleefully. “It’s time for you to sing the Penn State Alma Mater. Let’s go!”
They stared at the floor… at each other… anywhere but at Trevor, Damian or me. I let them squirm for about thirty seconds before taking over.
“You think you deserve to wear our black shoes, white pants and plain helmets?” I demanded. “If you want dinner tomorrow, I expect to hear the Alma Mater sung with all four verses to the satisfaction of your teammates. Is that clear?”
The group all nodded their understanding. Coach Burton took over from there. “Thank you, captains. We’ve had our entertainment for the evening. It’s time to get to work. We have a team meeting in the Lasch Building auditorium at seven o’clock. Be on time.”
“On time means five minutes early, everybody,” I added. The crowd of football players got up and lined up at the cleaning station to bus their dishes and trays. Damian, Trevor and I went straight out since we had taken care of our dishes already.
We were the first people in the auditorium when we arrived. Damian grabbed a seat in the rear row immediately.
“Sorry, buddy,” I said. “We should sit down near the front.”
“Yeah, Coach is right,” Trevor agreed. “We’re the leaders. We have to set the example for the group.”
“Being a leader can be a pain in the ass,” he commented as he sat down beside Trevor and me.
“Yes, it can be,” I agreed. “It’s also very rewarding when everything works and you know you’re responsible for it happening.”
The team members followed standard church seating protocol as they arrived – sit as far from the pulpit as possible. That was OK. Trevor, Damian and I were setting the right tone. We’re engaged and active participants in our team, not hiding somewhere in the back of the room.
Two minutes before seven o’clock Coach Burton walked to the front and signaled for silence. The lights went down as he announced, “Welcome to the Nittany Lions football team everyone. It’s pleasure to see all 109 of you in one place this evening. You are members of a good football team.”
The projector came on and showed a clip of me streaking down the field against Tennessee on a play action pass to score my second touchdown in the Capital One Bowl last January. The team cheered the play. “Good play, Coach,” Coach Burton commented.
A clip from the same game came next. Greg Nowicki fired through the gap between Tennessee’s two defensive tackles, and blasted into the middle linebacker, knocking the linebacker to the ground. Damian thundered through the hole, dodged past Greg and rumbled downfield. Damian ran over the free safety when the guy tried to tackle Damian.
“That had to hurt,” Coach Burton commented. The other defensive backs finally gang tackled Damian fifteen yards downfield. The clip drew extended cheers from our team.
Another clip showed Trevor sacking Nick Wilson from Michigan. Another clip showed Bill Daugherty and Trevor sandwiching Illinois’ quarterback for a sack. A clip of Josh Bruno knifing into the backfield and dropping Minnesota’s tailback for a three yard loss drew cheers.
I was a little confused by what Coach Burton was showing us. Usually, he showed us clips of great plays to start the meeting, but they were clips of feats performed by our departed stars. Was the coach trying to tell us we were a great team already? That didn’t seem right. The message at the start of camp should be ‘We’ve got a lot of work to do.’
Shawn Byrd’s interception of a Boston College pass was featured next. Things became clearer to me with the next clip. It was one of Chip’s interceptions against USC last fall. The cheering stopped.
Coach showed a clip of a Cincinnati cornerback intercepting a ball in front of me and then maintaining possession while I tried to strip it away.
“Nice pick,” Coach Burton commented.
It still stung to watch that play. The next clip showed a big USC tackle hitting Chip in his blind side and driving him into the ground for a big sack.
“Oww… I know that one hurt,” Coach Burton commented.
Coach concluded the video replay with a clip of the final play of the Michigan State game. Damian had taken a check down pass at Michigan State’s 10 yard line. He bulled his way ahead, trying to drag half the Spartan team across the goal line. The five guys finally dropped Damian on the three yard line as time expired in the game. We lost that game 35-31.
We sat silent for a few seconds, sobered by the reminder of our fallibility. Coach Burton intoned, “On to Phoenix!” He paused dramatically for about five seconds. “Maybe we have a little work to do before they anoint us the national champions.”
Now that he had our undivided attention, Coach Burton launched into his standard talk about our training schedule, workouts, video study, position meetings and team meetings for the next two weeks. He reminded everyone about our sexual conduct, drug, alcohol and personal conduct policies. I paid attention, even though none of what he talked about was different from what I heard the past three years.
Trevor, Damian and I reminded the other team leaders about the meeting at our apartment. Josh Bruno, Shawn Byrd, Christian Hunsecker, Greg Nowicki, Tanner Riggs, Dave McCall, Joe Ricci, Charlie Taylor, Chip Brinton, Jared Cantrell, Kenyatta Jackson, G. J. DeLuca, Ben Witte and Joe Cleveland assembled at our apartment about fifteen minutes after Coach Burton’s team meeting ended. Trevor, Damian and I handed beer out to all who wished to partake. Christian and G. J. were the only two to refuse the offer.
“Thanks for coming tonight,” I said when everyone got quiet. “We have a lot to do over the next few weeks and months if we are going to get to Phoenix. Everyone here will play a crucial part in making sure our team operates at peak efficiency this season.
“I’d like to welcome G. J., Ben and Joe to the leadership group. I would like to thank you for accepting the RA jobs. You have a critical role in helping our underclassmen learn to balance football, scholastics and a social life. God knows, that is stressful, especially given the amount of time they are expected to devote to our team. Make sure you let the freshmen know that Coach Paterno is available to help line up tutors, counsel them on time management, or just lend them an ear. I know Coach Paterno helped me get my head on straight.
“Chip, Josh, Shawn, Greg, Christian and Tanner will be in charge of looking after your position group of players this fall. Make sure their academics go well, study to get good grades, that they practice hard and that they learn the playbook and that they stay out of trouble.”
“You named the seniors, Coach,” Jared asked. “What do you want the juniors to do?”
“You will help the leader in your position group,” I replied. “Joe, you’ll help Josh; Dave, you’ll help Shawn; Charlie, you’ll help Damian; and so on. All of you are here to assist your leader this fall. You’re also here so our team has a leadership group organized and ready to go next spring when Trevor, Damian, the other seniors and I are done. This was Tyler Madden’s idea, and it’s a good one. I’m passing it on to you. You do the same thing next spring and bring in the best sophomores to lead the following year when you’re done.”
“How about Thon?” Dave asked. “Do you want me to run it again?”
“No, I don’t, Dave,” I answered. “I want you to serve as the advisor and overseer to next year’s Thon chairman. Trevor, Damian and I will pick one of the sophomores to take that task this year. I like the idea of using the Thon chairmanship as a leadership development tool. We’ll pick someone we think is likely to be a team leader when their turn comes.”
Dave gave me a weak smile. He understood exactly what I had left unsaid. I expected Dave to be one of the team captains next season, along with Chip. Dave would do an excellent job when his turn came.
We talked for awhile longer about everyone’s roles and our expectations of the team. By the time we handed out second beers to most of our guests, we had degenerated to reminiscing about our two or three years here at Penn State – things the Hungarian twins had done, J. T. Hill hoisting me by the collar to set me straight about conduct at practice, Zack Hayes tales, feats of strength by Antwaan Booker and other memories. Our confab broke up around ten o’clock. After all, we had practice promptly at nine am the next morning.
----------oooOooo----------
The team made a rather motley collection as it assembled on Monday morning for our first practice. The freshmen were dressed in an assortment of odd workout clothes. Most of the sophomores had outgrown their Penn State workout clothes they received a year earlier, thanks to Coach Collins’ workout regimen. The clothing on the juniors and seniors fit better, but had seen better days after a year of use. This afternoon we would look better, after new workout clothes were issued.
Coach Burton started us off with 45 minutes of stretching and warm up exercises. We broke into five groups, headed by Trevor, Damian, me, Josh Bruno and Shawn Byrd. Our groups rotated around the field and through the Lasch Building to get weighed, tested and outfitted for the coming season.
Interestingly, Coach Burton assigned Brian Henson to my group. I wasn’t sure if that was a challenge to me to beat him, for him to beat me, or just a challenge for both of us. Coach had his ways to keep all of us on our toes.
My group ended up inside the Lasch Building with Coach Collins and Matt Shepherd. My group went through the fitness tests. Coach Collins smiled as he looked over my numbers.
“You’re up more than I expected on the bench press,” he commented. “That’s very good. Keep doing what you’re doing, Coach. This is excellent.”
“Thanks, Coach,” I agreed.
We headed to the locker room to be outfitted. That took awhile to get everyone all the equipment and clothing they would need. The freshmen who started classes this term talked with Larry Fitzgerald, our equipment manager, to pick out their jersey numbers for the coming season.
We hit the 40 yard dash station next. Coach Burton was manning it along with Coach Adams and Coach C. “Why don’t you hit the 40 first, Coach?” Coach Burton suggested.
I knew which of us Coach Burton was motivating now – Brian. He wanted Brian to try to outdo me. That was fine. I had been the fastest man on the team for the past three years. I had no intention of relinquishing that title now. I lined up for my sprint.
I steeled my nerves and focused on visualizing myself flying down the field, just the way my track coach taught me in high school. At the tweet of Coach’s whistle, I burst from my crouch and exploded down the course. In a few strides I was full speed. I pushed my body hard, striving to maintain peak speed through the entire 40 yard course. My legs and lungs screamed from the extreme effort but I pushed through the pain. I propelled myself past the stop before slowing to a jog and then an easy trot.
I headed back to the coaches to find out my time. Coach Burton smiled as I waited for the word. “Four Twenty-seven, Coach,” Coach Burton reported.
“All right!” I exclaimed as I pumped my fist in celebration. “That’s my best time ever.”
“Good job, Coach,” echoed from my teammates and other coaches.
“Henson, you’re up next,” Coach Burton announced. I think most of the team members outside turned to watch and find out if Brian was up to my challenge. Brian settled into his crouch and waited for the signal. Coach Burton tweeted for the start. Brian burst forward and powered himself down the course. I had to admit he looked damned fast.
Coach Burton, Coach Adams and Coach C were chuckling and comparing stop watches when Brian completed the forty yards. Brian jogged back for the verdict.
“Four Twenty-seven, Brian,” Coach Burton announced. I let out a sigh of relief. I was proud of my protégé. I didn’t mind sharing the title of fastest on the team with him.
Brian’s grin spread across his face before he let out a howl, “I KNEW I could do it… I knew it!”
I walked over and shook his hand. “That’s excellent, Brian,” I said. “I’m happy to share the record with you.”
“Thanks, Coach,” Brian replied. “I wasn’t sure if I could match you.”
“Don’t count your chickens before the eggs hatch, guys” Coach C teased. “We got forty more guys to time on the forty.”
Our confidence wasn’t misplaced. Shawn Byrd managed 4.29. Ryan McGuire, the freshman cornerback from New Freedom, Pa., did the forty in 4.30 seconds. Christian Hunsecker’s time was 4.31 seconds. Those skitter bugs down in the SEC better watch out. They weren’t going to outrun our team.
We completed the five stations in the morning, cleaned up in the locker room and headed down the road to the Training Table for lunch. We had position meetings after lunch.
Our receiving corps was impressive. Christian Hunsecker was backed up by Bruce MacCauley. Jared Cantell backed me up. Tanner Riggs and Brian Henson covered the slot position. John Crosby, Ian Davis and our newest guy, Rodney Greer provided depth.
Our front three, presumably Christian, Tanner and me, I thought were as good as anybody in the country. There was little drop in talent when Bruce, Brian and Jared went in. I knew Brian was a threat to take a starting spot. Bruce wasn’t far behind Brian. He had talent and speed too. John was quick. I knew Ian could develop into a good receiver. Rodney was highly regarded. We’d see after he learned what he was doing.
We spent our afternoon practice doing drills to improve our fundamental skills. At the end of practice, we continued the tradition we started in the spring. We assembled everyone for our chant, “On to Phoenix!”
The freshmen did a creditable job singing the Penn State Alma Mater before dinner. We allowed them to eat. After dinner we had another video study session.
The coaches concentrated on fundamentals drills on our first two days. Pads came out on Wednesday. We did a couple days work at half speed with light hitting. The coaches didn’t want to rush us and get someone hurt before we were ready.
We did our normal practice Saturday morning and did a controlled scrimmage in the afternoon. It was eleven on eleven but the coaches set up situations and we would run a few downs. We did some running plays, some short and then deep passes. We ran two series using the wildcat package of plays. We practiced in the red zone.
Trevor, Damian, Chip and I had our first party of the semester Saturday night. I stopped off at the Uni-Mart on College Avenue and picked up a couple 32 oz. lemon-lime slushies before the party. The first dozen or so guests got treated to my version of the Frozen Gumby. They enjoyed them.
We went to full speed contact at practice on Monday. The week’s practices went well.
Damian, Trevor and I kept an eye on the guys, making sure everyone took the preparations seriously. Our teammates took our goal, “On to Phoenix” to heart and worked hard.
I watched some of the battles for starting spots with curiosity. The biggest, from my perspective, was the competition for the other two starting wide receiver spots. By my evaluation, Christian was hands down our second-best receiver. I was certain he’d line up across the field from me on September 2nd when we faced Temple.
The battle between Tanner and Brian was much closer. Brian was faster and was learning to use his size to beat the coverage. Tanner knew our offense better and had a year of experience as a starter. Brian practiced with the Ones (first team) nearly the entire week. Ben Witte and Robert Smith were dueling for the #1 tight end spot.
Wyatt Smith and Charlie Taylor were dueling for the #2 tailback spot behind Damian. I thought Charlie had an edge over Wyatt. That had to be killing Wyatt. He came to Penn State as the four-star recruit who would be the next Curt Warner, Larry Johnson, or Shawn O’Conner. It would be a real blow to his ego if he fell back to #3 this season.
We had to find a starting hero (strong safety). Jeff Knox was competing for the spot with Marco Cuchiella. Joe Ricci and Tony King were pushing last year’s starting outside linebackers, Jarrell Cook and Brendan Hayden, for starting spots.
G. J. DeLuca and Denzell Hunt were competing for the right cornerback spot. Matt Frye and Chris Richardson weren’t far behind them in capabilities. The defensive line starting spots were set but the backups were looking good. That’s important for our team since Coach C rotated lineman so often.
We did our normal practice on Saturday morning. We did a full scrimmage after lunch. The coaches ran it like a regular game except that we practiced in the red zone two extra times at the end of the game. My Blue Team beat Trevor’s White team handily, 35-17. Shawn’s prediction earlier in the summer that our White (#1 team) defense would have trouble holding back Brian and me when we both got on the field was prescient. I caught two long touchdowns and Brian caught another two. The White defense finally got a handle on our squad when the third-string receivers went onto the field. Chip’s performance was vastly superior to what he did twelve months ago.
Saturday night’s party was similar to the previous week – lots of guys, plenty to drink, not nearly enough girls to go around. Everyone, me included, was looking forward to Thursday when the freshmen and Commonwealth campus transfers would arrive.
Media Day was Tuesday, August 21st. The team headed to the stadium after lunch instead of our normal after lunch meetings. Even the younger guys with little chance of playing significant time during the season were required to show up. Their hometown papers were likely to have someone there to do a story on their favorite son.
Trevor, Damian, Christian, Chip, Brian, Bill Daugherty, Josh Bruno, Shawn Byrd, Dave McCall and I were the popular interviewees. The athletic department set us up around the perimeter of the stadium to meet with the media.
Most of my questions were easily anticipated. ‘How is our team going to do this year?’ My answer was the same that Coach Burton and I worked out last month – ‘Our goal is to win the national championship. What other goal should a team have? We’ll play the games and find out if we’re as good as we hope to be.’
I answered questions about my background. Most reporters asked about my rescue of Jordan Shaeffer last month. I still insisted that I wasn’t a hero. I was just doing my job. Some asked me about my personal goals. That was easy – win the national championship game. When pressed, I insisted that winning games was all I was worried about. My personal stats would take of themselves if our team won games.
Mike Montgomery from the Lancaster Paper interviewed me. Jeff Morgan from the Philadelphia Inquirer talked with me. I did interviews with papers from nearly every city in the state. The central Pennsylvania TV stations all talked with me. Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, Wilkes Barre/Scranton, and Altoona stations showed up too. ESPN, Fox and CBS Sports interviewed me too.
Jeff Morgan asked one question that surprised me. “Kyle, how would you rate your chances of winning the Heisman this season?”
“Heisman?” I said before laughing. “How about no better than a snowball’s chance in hell.”
“You’re almost certain to hold the career record for all-purpose yards,” Jeff responded. “If Desmond Howard and Tim Brown were worthy, why not you?”
“And both won the award before I was born,” I said. “The Heisman goes to quarterbacks, running backs and an occasional cornerback, not someone like me.”
“You are on the Heisman watch list,” Jeff said. “Your athletic department has ‘Martin for Heisman’ handouts. Haven’t you seen them?”
“I’m honored to be on the watch list,” I replied. “It’s flattering that they are touting me, but I have no expectations of being in New York next winter for their banquet. It’s not happening.”
“Why shouldn’t you have a shot at winning the Heisman?” Jeff asked. “You already beat Brian Westbrook’s all-purpose yards per game record. You’re number two and stand an excellent chance of beating his career all-purpose yards record. You probably will beat David Ball’s 58 career touchdown receptions. You are on track to beat Jerry Rice’s career reception yards record. Westbrook and Rice – that’s pretty elite company you are keeping.”
“They did have excellent college careers, didn’t they?” I challenged. “Did either of them get the Heisman?”
“Fair enough,” Jeff answered. “Neither of them won the Heisman. I still think you’re deserving.”
“My main focus this season will be on making sure my team is successful,” I said. “Personal honors aren’t my top priority.”
“Good luck with that, Kyle,” Jeff said.
----------oooOooo----------
Wednesday morning brought the first bit of clarity to the job competitions. Tanner Riggs was sent to practice with the Twos (second-string). There were no grand announcements. He simply was sent down. I knew how competitive he was. He took the demotion well.
When practice was over, I sought out Tanner. Not that it was hard, his locker is two stalls down from mine.
“How’s it going, Tanner?” I asked quietly so we wouldn’t be overheard.
“I’m good,” he answered quickly. After a few seconds pause, he added, “Surprisingly… Things didn’t work out the way I planned when I was back in high school.”
“No, I guess not,” I agreed.
“I had this grand plan that I would come here, make starter my first year and have glorious career, and set all kinds of records,” Tanner said. “Boy, was reality a shock when I got on the field three years ago.” I nodded in understanding.
“I’ve always been the fastest guy on the field before college,” he continued. “Nobody could touch me. That first day of practice three years ago blew me away. Not only did you beat my time in the forty, half a dozen other guys did too. You took the kick and punt returners jobs that I thought I should have. I couldn’t stand you back then, Coach.”
“I understand,” I replied.
“I started to understand this business when I saw you blow past Alex, Max and Aidan two years ago,” Tanner said. “I knew I had to work my ass off if I wanted to get on the field. No one hands jobs to you. I was delighted when I finally won a starting spot last year. I also saw enough of Brian to know my hold on a starting spot was tenuous, at best. He’s faster and bigger than me. This was only a matter of time.” Tanner gave me a smile. “I held him off for a year.”
“You’re a good receiver,” I consoled.
“But Brian is better,” Tanner answered. “You can count on me to help the team any way I can, Coach. Isn’t that what you used to say to all the upper classmen when we were freshmen?”
“Yeah, it was,” I agreed.
“I thought you were just sucking up back then,” Tanner said. “I understand now. You were just saying you wanted to help. Don’t worry about me going all prima donna and making trouble, Coach. I’m going to wring every ounce of fun out of this season. Let’s see how far we can take this thing.”
“Yes, let’s do that, Tanner,” I agreed.
I gave Tanner a lot of credit for the way he was planning to handle his demotion. Would I have done the same thing if the places were switched? I wasn’t sure.
----------oooOooo----------
The campus was flooded with freshmen, parents, and transfers Thursday morning as they reported to campus for their first day. Coach Burton modified our practice schedule for the next three days. We would have our nine am practices Thursday and Friday. Saturday morning, we would have a scrimmage. The afternoons were set aside for preparations for classes.
I had an appointment with Dr. P. Thomas Henderson after lunch. I hated visiting my advisor. He always gave me attitude about my playing football. Unusually, he was ready to see me at the appointed time.
We reviewed my classes for the semester: Education Theory & Practice 420 – Education & Public Policy, Geography 160 – Mapping our Changing World, History 454 – U. S. Military History, Art History 100 – Introductory Art History and English 184 – The Short Story.
“This is a nice lineup, Mr. Martin,” Dr. Henderson commented when we finished reviewing my lineup. “I hope you are able to maintain your high standard of performance in spite of your athletic endeavors.”
“I would think my 3.68 GPA would show you that I can maintain my academic standing while playing football,” I countered.
“Can you maintain your past standards while performing athletically and captaining a team?” Dr. Henderson asked. He didn’t leave time for me to answer. “Mr. Martin, you are one of the most promising teaching students in our department but you insist on wasting my time, my colleagues’ time and your own in persisting in obtaining a degree for which you will have no use. I can read the newspapers. You are going to play this child’s game professionally after graduation next spring.”
“Yes, I expect to be drafted to play in the NFL next year,” I replied, trying not to lose my temper with this… this…. windbag. “IF… and that is a big if… IF I play in the NFL, average careers last two or three years. If I manage to beat those odds and stay, say five years, I will be done at age twenty-seven. What do I do then? I’m too young to retire. Contrary to what you might think, I won’t have enough money to retire. I WILL teach!”
I was on a roll and didn’t give Dr. Henderson time to interject. “I love teaching. I have done it for seven summers at Boy Scout camp. The best experience I have had in college was last spring with C I 495C when I was teaching the students at Bellefonte High. I WILL teach, I guarantee it.”
“I take exception to the way the powers at this university give preferential treatment to athletes,” Dr. Henderson shot back. “You, and others are taking your student teaching experiences out of order. It will harm your ability to get the most out of those experiences.”
“I am contractually obligated to the university to train, prepare and play football for them each fall,” I countered. “The university pays for my tuition, room and board, and books and gives me an education in return. The university controls my schedule, both academically and athletically. It is out of my control whether I do C I 495C and 495E in back-to-back semesters like most students or with a semester interruption to accommodate my athletic career. I would suggest you take your concerns up with someone with higher authority. If you have nothing else, I will take your leave. I do not wish to waste your time further.”
I turned on my heel and walked out. Dr. Henderson did not reply to me. Thank God I had one more term and I would spend it in Philadelphia, out of Henderson’s line of sight and line of fire.
I stopped off at the book store to purchase my textbooks after I finished my meeting with Dr. Henderson. They cost a small fortune, as usual. I put them on the charge card the athletic department gave me and said a silent thank you to Coach Paterno for giving me a scholarship.
I went over to the Natatorium to lifeguard for a few hours when I was done. A few freshmen showed up for their swim tests, but not many. Friday and Saturday would be the big days for the tests. Chip and I were scheduled to help both afternoons.
More roster decisions became apparent Friday morning. Jarrell Cook was sent back to the second team. Tony King took the weak side linebacker starting spot. Jeff Knox worked the whole practice with the Ones. Marco worked with the second team.
No resolution came for Charlie Taylor and Wyatt Smith. They continued to split time as Damian’s backup. Ben Witte and Bob Smith fought for the starting tight end spot. Ben had improved his pass catching some since I had the talk with him earlier in the summer. Bob looked impressive as a blocker, though not quite as dominating as Ben.
Chip and I grabbed a quick lunch at Pollock Commons and headed for the pool after practice. The place was mobbed with freshmen waiting for their turns to do the swim tests. We changed in the locker room. Someone turned into our aisle as we were changing, saw us and hurried away. I thought I recognized him.
“Hey Mike… Mike is that you?” I called out.
Mike O’Keefe poked his head around the corner. He didn’t look comfortable seeing me. “Hey, what’s up, Mike?” I asked. “How are you doing?” He visibly relaxed when he saw my big smile.
“Hey, Mike,” Chip added. “Good to see you.”
“Hi, Chip. Hi, Kyle,” Mike said as he came over to us, extending a hand to shake. “I wasn’t sure if you would want to see me, Kyle.”
“Why?” I asked. “Did you get me arrested for drunk driving?” He gave me a slightly goofy grin. “I never had a problem with you. Your sister and I… yeah, we had problems, but not you and me.”
“That’s a relief,” Mike said. “You guys here to lifeguard too?”
“Too?” I asked.
“Mr. Coleman hired me a couple weeks ago,” Mike explained. “I sent my credentials ahead from Scout camp. He hired me as soon as he heard I was BSA Lifeguard certified.”
“John does have an affinity for Boy Scouts, doesn’t he?” I replied. “I thought you worked in campcraft.”
“That was last summer,” Mike said. “This year I applied for aquatics. They took me.”
“Good for you,” I said. “Do you mind me being nosey?” Mike smiled and nodded his assent. “Why are you on campus already? Most sophomores don’t come until tomorrow or Sunday.”
“I had a thing with my advisor this morning,” Mike explained. “I drove uh… Kell…”
“It’s OK. You can say her name around me, Mike,” I said.
“Well… I drove Kelly and me up yesterday,” Mike said.
“Your big sister let you drive?” I teased.
“She doesn’t have a choice,” Mike answered. “I guess you haven’t heard about what has been going on with her in the last few months.”
“No, we have had no contact other than the e-mail she sent me a few weeks ago congratulating me about the rescue I had to do,” I said.
“I saw that,” Mike said. “That was good work. I’m glad I never had to do anything like that.”
“So… what’s up with Kelly and not driving?” I asked. “I thought her ninety-day suspension for underage drinking would be over by now.”
“It was,” Mike said. “At least the first one was up in May. Sis got caught at a DUI stop on a Saturday night in May after hanging with her friends. She lost her license for another year.”
“Ouch, I’m sorry,” I replied. “We may be split up but I don’t wish anything bad for her. Tell Kelly I’m sorry to hear about her misfortune. I hope things go better for her this year.”
“It was bad luck for her but good for me,” Mike said. “Billy bought a car of his own this spring. The old clunker dad gave him was to go to Kelly but with her license suspension, Dad gave the car to me.”
“Does Kelly realize what she is doing is screwing up her life?” I asked.
“Yeah, I think so,” Mike answered. “Dad blew a gasket after her second arrest. Kelly has been doing AA meetings since her hearing this summer.”
“I’m glad she is getting her act together,” I said. “I wish it had come sooner, but I am happy she’s getting help. Is she staying with Jen, Bev and Cindy? I hadn’t heard any news from Christian.”
“No, she isn’t,” Mike answered. “Bev and Cindy weren’t interested in rooming with her again. Jen and Mark decided to share an apartment. Kelly is rooming with three other journalism majors.”
“I guess we better get changed,” I suggested. “John needs all the help outside that he can get.”
“I remember what it was like last year,” Mike agreed.
“Tell Kelly I said hi,” Chip added as we finished talking.
Mike was assigned to the gate to scan eLion cards as the freshmen checked in. Chip and I worked along the side of the pool, ready in case any of the freshmen got in trouble while they were taking the test. Hundreds of freshmen came through during the afternoon. It was just as grueling as Sunday afternoon swim tests at scout camp.
Saturday’s scrimmage went well. My Blue team beat Trevor’s White again but the score was closer. My team was ahead 31-21 at mid-fourth quarter. Jon Stafford and our Twos staged a good drive near the end to score. They tried an onside kick to keep possession of the ball. Brian Henson batted the kick to me. I grabbed it and collapsed to the ground in a ball to protect myself and the ball. Trey Connelly, Grant Turner and E. T. LeBlanc preserved our win by killing the clock and not letting White have the ball back before the coaches ended the scrimmage.
Chip, Mike and I all worked the Saturday afternoon shift at the pool. Chip and I invited Mike and his roommates to stop by our party that evening. Damian invited Billy Robinson, his lover, over for a romantic dinner at our apartment. Trevor was reuniting with Stephanie Kolmar over dinner downtown. Chip had a dinner date too. I went downtown with some of the younger unattached guys for burgers and shakes at Baby’s.
Trevor, Steph, Chip, his date Amanda Lombardi, and I returned in plenty of time to help Damian, Billy and their cover “girlfriends” Melanie and Sarah set up for the evening’s party. Damian and his crew had hors d’oeuvres ready. Snack foods were out on the table. We had a good supply of beer, wine and liquor. We were ready to kickoff the fall semester properly.
My friend and former Wolverines teammate Jason Harting made it to the party. Another friend from the Wolverines made it too. Kevin Peachey, who played free safety and returned kicks, was starting college on Main Campus this semester. I ran into him Friday afternoon at the swim tests and invited him to come by my party.
It took me awhile but eventually I recognized Chip’s date Amanda. She had been the girl he brought home back in the beginning of July when I spent the weekend on campus for football camp. Maybe my friend was outgrowing some of his earlier womanizing and craziness.
Mike O’Keefe and his roommate Jim Hill made it to the party. My friends and I welcomed them and made them feel at home. We had plenty of girls at the party, a welcome change from the past two Saturdays.
The Davis twins escorted a pair of good looking young women to the party. I was busy when they arrived and didn’t get a good look at the girls they were with. I saw Troy’s date from the back. She seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place her.
Later in the evening Troy’s date passed me when she was heading for the bathroom. My jaw dropped open when I found out who she was – Ashley Burton, our coach’s eldest daughter! I motioned for Troy to come over.
“What’s up, Coach?” Troy asked politely.
“You do realize this is a beer party, don’t you?” I asked.
Troy waved his half full cup of beer in front of me and said, “Well… duh, yeah.”
“You brought our head coach’s daughter to a beer party as your date?” I asked pointedly.
“Ashley?” Troy responded, laughing. “Ashley isn’t my date. She’s just a good friend. Are you worried about her saying something to her dad about the drinking?” I nodded yes. “Relax, Coach. Ashley is cool. She, Ian and I have been to parties where there is drinking before. It’s fine.”
“It’s a big risk, Troy,” I said.
“I’ll have Ashley talk with you when she gets back, Coach,” Troy said. “She can reassure you that her coming to the party won’t be any problem.”
Ashley rejoined Troy a couple minutes later. He sent her straight to me for a talk.
“Hi, Kyle. Troy tells me you’re concerned about me coming to a team party,” Ashley said as I shook her hand.
“Well… it concerns me a little,” I agreed. “Your dad has the power to make or break any of us. There would be hell to pay if he heard about our parties.”
“Relax, Kyle,” Ashley responded. “What am I going to tell my dad? ‘Hey daddy, I went to a beer party with your football players.’ I don’t think so. I would be grounded so quick my head would spin. Whatever happens here remains our secret, Kyle. You can count on it.”
“OK, I guess so,” I agreed. “If any of the guys gives you a hard time, let me know. I can take care of it for you.”
“They won’t,” Ashley answered. “As a matter of fact, I’m being recognized. I’ve talked with a number of cute guys, but none are interested in dancing.” She gave me a wink. “…or more. I’m having trouble getting serious attention from dad’s players. I think they’re afraid of me.”
“That’s understandable,” I agreed. “You dad does control their careers. None of us wants to cross him.”
“Pass the word, Kyle,” Ashley said. “I won’t bite or breathe one word of tonight’s party to my dad. What am I going to say? ‘Daddy, while I was at a college beer party, so and so did this.’ That wouldn’t go over well for the guy or for me.”
“Point taken,” I said.
“I want to be treated like any other college freshmen,” Ashley explained. “I don’t want special treatment because of my dad, nor do I want to be cut out of the fun normal students have.”
“Enjoy yourself and don’t drink too much.” I gave Ashley a wink. “That’s advice I give to all the freshmen here.”
I noticed later Ashley did succeed in interesting a guy into dancing – one who didn’t know or didn’t care who her dad was. Kevin Peachey shared a few dances with Ashley before the two found an open chair. They started making out. I was happy she found someone, especially Kevin. He’s a nice guy.
I was less pleased when things escalated. I was back to being concerned when the two of them went in search of a bedroom. They found my bedroom was empty and went inside to explore each other – and do other things I would rather not contemplate a friend of mine doing with my head coach’s daughter. I would be doomed to hell by my coach.
Mike O’Keefe found himself a nice-looking, dark-haired freshman. After a bit of dancing and making out, Mike succeeded in convincing her to leave with him, presumably to go back to his apartment for some horizontal one-on-one. Ever polite, Mike and his new squeeze stopped to talk before leaving.
“Thanks for inviting me, Kyle,” Mike declared. “I’m glad I came here tonight. I wouldn’t have met Jamie.” He paused and gave her a quick kiss. “See you later.”
“No problem, Mike,” I replied. “Nice to meet you, Jamie.” I called as they headed out to carry on with their bedroom rendezvous.
Kevin and Ashley finished with my room a little later. They parted with a hug and kiss. Ashley met up with another girl I didn’t know and the two left with Troy Davis. I saw Kevin a few minutes later when we bumped into each other in the kitchen when we went for beers.
“Damn, Coach, I’m going to love college,” Kevin declared when he saw me. “I’ve been on campus three days, I’m here partying with the football team and I got laid. I like Ashley too. She is one hot babe. I hope I get to see her again.”
“Be careful, Kevin,” I cautioned. “Did you realize that you slept with the head football coach’s daughter?”
“Oh, smack!” Kevin exclaimed. “You’re shitting me.”
“Her last name is Burton,” I replied.
“I didn’t get Ashley’s last name,” Kevin said.
“If Coach Burton finds out you screwed his eldest daughter at a beer party at my apartment, there could be hell to pay, Kevin,” I cautioned. “Shit flows down hill. If I get trouble from my coach, you’re going to get trouble from me.”
“I do hope to see her again,” Kevin replied. “She gave me her number and asked me to call her. I’ll treat her really careful, Coach.”
“Good for you,” I said. Kevin wandered away, slightly dazed now that he realized who he slept with. Had I been that unworldly when I started college?
Most of the singles and couples started to drift out between midnight and 12:30. I helped Trevor, Steph, Chip, Amanda, Marco and his girl du jour clean up the apartment. Marco was staying in Damian’s room that evening. Jon Stafford took his conquest back to the room they shared in Hartranft.
----------oooOooo----------
The team was on our normal in-semester schedule now that the rest of the students arrived. We were required to eat dinner at the Training Table each night. Upper classmen in the apartments could get their other meals at Pollock Commons or use credits from their meal plan to buy things at the Mix or other on-campus stores and eat at their apartments. Chip, Trevor, Damian and I usually ate at the apartment.
Chip, Trevor, Damian and I were all required to attend the “Be A Part From the Start” rally for freshmen at eight pm Sunday at Rec Hall. The Lion Ambassadors, the cheerleaders, the pep band and the Lion all entertained the crowd as the freshmen were taught Penn State songs and traditions. The freshmen football players, along with selected team stars went down to the floor for introductions. None of my roommates stayed for the dance afterward.
Classes started up on Monday morning. I had no eight o’clock classes at all. That was nice. Monday, Wednesday and Friday I had English 184, The Short Story from 11:15 to 12:05 followed by History 454, American Military History from 12:20 to 1:10 pm.
My English class was in the Willard Building. It was taught by John Charles Reed, a grad teaching assistant in his late twenties. I assumed he was working for his doctorate the same way Will was at Princeton. The course sounded interesting. We would be studying short stories by American authors of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.
I headed up the hill past Pattee Library to the Chambers Building for History. I found Cameron Miller sitting a few seats back in the first row when I came in the door. I gave my buddy a big grin and took a seat beside him in the second row. Other students walked in, many that I recognized from my Civil War or Gettysburg courses.