Coach gave away nothing throughout the week. All five candidates for the quarterback position worked their asses off. Their first game was on Friday night. After a no pads practice on Thursday, Coach informed his five candidates that they would each get a few plays to run during the game. Whoever did the best would become the new first-string quarterback for the team. He would also select a back up quarterback the same way.

Coach told them all that he was very pleased with their efforts, and wished them each and everyone a great game.

Timothy was waiting outside when Joey came out of the locker room. “Well! What the hell did he say, Joseph? Are you the new quarterback for the Cowboys? Come on, spill them fritos!”

“Don’t call me Joseph, asshole!” Joey started jogging back to Coach’s house. Tim didn’t bother to follow, knowing by Joey’s irritated response he was in no mood to be chummy.

By the time Joey was patted on his butt by Coach, every other candidate had played, and the Cowboys were behind by 24 points. In fact, the score was 24 zip. Most of the local high school crowd had left to head for the after-game party. The offensive line had stopped trying, knowing that their effort was futile, a losing season was obviously in store for the team. Why beat themselves up for a lost cause?

Nervously, Joey called the count and felt the satisfying smack of pigskin hitting the palms of his hand. It was a run play. He turned to hand off to the fullback, managing to just get the ball transferred to Tim before Joey was smashed from behind by the whole defensive line. The small remaining crowd groaned. More people got up and headed for the exit.

Coach sent in a pass play. A long, Hail-Mary pass play.

Joey found himself pissed at the give a shit attitude of the linemen. He chewed their asses in the huddle. Their stares of disdain were obvious, as if to say ‘Who the fuck are you to tell us we’re slackers?’

When the football hit his palms this time, Joey instantly sprinted toward the right side, thereby surprising the defense line by not being in the pocket when they collapsed on it. The defensive ends were also caught by surprise, but still managed to isolate and descend on the lone miniature figure that was unprotected by any of his team.

At the last instant, Joey leapt into the air and hurled a bullet pass directly into the arms of his down field receiver. By the time Joey got up from the bottom of the pile, the score was 24 to 6.

The Cowboy defensive line rallied and held the opponent to the fifty yard line, where the Cowboys took over the ball with only four minutes left on the clock. Coach, playing a hunch, sent in the second string offensive line.

Joey asked them, in the huddle, if they wanted to prove they weren’t losers. Nervously they all nodded that they wanted to prove that very thing.

At the snap, Joey bolted through the small hole on the right side of his center, and jack-rabbited the 50 yards distance to the goal line. In so doing, he stiff armed a three hundred pound line backer out of the way, knocking the huge player on his teakettle, and finally landing in a heap with his helmet over the goal line, the ball beside his head.

There was a great deal more enthusiasm in the huddle after that.

Since their kicking team was nonexistent, Coach decided to push Joey’s skills with a two-point conversion attempt.

This time Tim carried it in from the five yard line. It was now 24-14. The Cowboys were now two touchdown’s from glory land.

It took everything the Cowboy’s defense had to stop them, but on their own twenty yard line, a fumble resulted in another turn over. 80 yards to get within one score of winning.

Joey asked his second string teammates, “You assholes want this or not?” The sudden look of determination told Joey he finally had his team’s support. He looked at his tight end and told him to cut wide instead of tight right after he passed his defensive player. “The ball will be already hanging in mid air over your outside shoulder, so don’t screw around, just reach up and grab it, okay?”

The young man did exactly as Joey instructed him, and again Joey leapt into the air to clear the bullet pass over the much taller linebackers, and again hit his tight end perfectly. The kid ran for his life, scoring with only 30 seconds left in the game.

Another two point conversion would put the Cowboys within a field goal of winning. Coach called for a handoff to the halfback on an end around play. It failed miserably. The young man lost the ball out of bounds.

An on-side kick attempt did not work, and the other team only had to hang on for 24 seconds of play to win the season opener game.

After calling his first time out of the half, Coach called his team over. He looked at Joey for quite some time. He then looked at the rest of the second string. He looked at his first string players, many of whom had won the state championship the year before.

Finally he asked. “So you boys want this game or not? I watched my first string give up when we still had a chance to win it. I watched the crowd give up on you guys and leave. I watched my second string give it their best shot. I am seeing, now that we are within a single score of winning, that you boys are, finally, motivated. Why were you not all motivated during the first part of the game? Only people that really want it ever win a game. Obviously the first string didn’t want it.”

Coach paused while he looked each player in the eye. “You boys want this?”

There was a fairly muted response of “Yes.”

“I guess not. You guys are not even willing to commit, are you?” Coach shook his head, partially turning his back on them in mock disgust.

“Put me in on defense, Coach, I’ll get that ball back.” The whole team turned to look at their smallest, shortest player. The first string players started laughing.

Coach put his hands on his hips and stared at the first stringers. Suddenly he bellowed “All you first stringers that are quitters, get off this field, NOW! Turn in your gear and do not come back! We do not need a losing, piss-ant attitude on this team!” Coach glared at the offending slackers until they turned to go.

As the first string offensive line angrily retrieved their gear, Coach turned to his second string. “Alright, you guys are now our first string. Let me ask you the key question in your life. Can you do this? DO you WANT it bad enough to really DO this?”

The relies started out muted, but soon built to a howl as the players felt their hearts and minds begin to believe the impossible, and therefore to accept Coach’s challenge.

“All right then, Joe, you asked to go in on defense so you could get the ball back. You can go in and play line backer. Y’all have only two plays to get the ball back. DO it and win the game, MUFF this and know for the rest of your lives that it was in your grasp. Understand?”

The team erupted with howling enthusiasm.

It only took them one play to get the ball back. And score.

The next day, Joe was the de-facto school hero. The final score of 28 to 24 instantly changed Joe’s social status among the other students. Everyone was suddenly his friend. Except the disgraced first sting offensive line, of course.

And to be honest, it changed everybody’s perception except Joey’s. To Joey, it seemed to be just unexpected good luck. In his mind, his success in football did not make up for his abysmal failure so many years before when he failed to save his mother’s life, to protect her from those ghastly men. It did not make up for his inability to please his father. The void was just too great. In his own mind, in his heart, Joey still saw himself as a loser. The deeply depressed boy cried himself to sleep that night.

The next Monday after practice, Coach called Joey in to his office. Coach cocked his head as he observed the young man before him. “So Joey, how do you feelin about the win last Friday?”

Joey flushed brightly as he stared at his mentor, unable to adequately put his unhappy thoughts to words. Finally he shrugged his shoulders and muttered, “Okay I guess.”

Coach sat silently for quite some time, staring intently at his young protégé. Finally he asked, “Joey, do you even like yourself?”

It was a tribute to both of them that Joey could be utterly honest. “No, sir. Actually I don’t!”

Coach got up from his chair and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Let’s go get some ice cream, Joey. We really need to talk. Man to man.”

They ended up at DQ. Coach ordered a Peanut Buster Parfait. Joey got a double sized banana split with extra vanilla ice cream. They sat in a booth in the far corner, away from most of the other patrons. Coach started to eat, but was soon desperately trying to catch the cascade of peanuts that kept dripping off the side and falling on the table below, making an awful mess. Joey laughed at his Coach’s unsuccessful, hurried efforts to save his peanuts.

Coach grinned good naturedly, chagrinned by his inability to stay in control of the diabolically messy food he was eating.

When Coach finally got the top dollop of ice cream tamed down to below the rim of the plastic container, he looked up at Joey and commented, “So your dad once told me you never really got over your mother’s death. That true?”

Joey stopped eating. He had great respect, even heartfelt fondness for his coach, but he was not willing to go out on a limb far enough to open up that ball of worms. Instinctively Joey knew that those thoughts were buried to deep and were too well covered up to talk about right now. Being a teenager, he simply shrugged as he dug deeper into his split.

“Hey! Joey! We both know your dad never recovered from it either. There is no shame in that. I watched your dad change over night when that whole thing went down. I barely recognized my friend after that. It was like he pulled everything tightly inside himself and just no longer communicated with the outside world.” Coach intently watched Joey’s face from under his bushy, graying eyebrows.

Joey’s head was down now, his face almost fully hidden from Coach’s eyes.

“You ever had a girlfriend, Joey?” asked Coach softly.

Joey shook his head ‘No’, feeling unmanly and small.

Coach took a deep breath and launched into what he hoped would not turn into a disaster. “So Joey, my intuition is that you blame yourself for your mother’s death.”

Joey froze.

Coach looked around the DQ. He spotted a boy he guessed was about eight years old. “Joey, look at that young boy over there by the window with the blue T-shirt on. See him?” Coach pointed with his chin.

Joey, without raising his head up more than a skosh, swiveled his eyes to look where Coach had indicated.

“Now tell me, Joe, do you think that boy could beat me up?”

Joey quickly shook his head. The very idea was ridiculous!

Coach sat for a moment to let that reaction sink into Joey’s head. Then he went on, “So if me and my twin brother were both here, and that little boy, that young child wanted to kick both our asses, could he do it, do you think?”

Joey again shook his head no, now only playing in his split, no longer eating.

“Do you get my point lad?” Coach asked softly.

Joey continued toying with his ice cream for a bit. Finally he raised his head up and looked at Coach. There were tears in his eyes. “Thank you Coach,” he mumbled.

“You’re welcome Joe.” Coach was fighting tears back too. “See, you gotta forgive yourself for not being super human, son, especially at that age. There is no way you could have stopped those fuckin assholes from doing what they did to your poor mother. Pardon my French. But it simply was not your fault. Don’t get me wrong, the actions you took were incredibly courageous, son, but there was just no way you could have altered what those despicable men did to your poor mother. You were a young child of eight; they were grown men and well built, just like I am. And there were TWO of them son. TWO!”

Coach waited for that to sink in. Then he continued, “But I can tell you with one hundred and ten percent certainty, the last thing your sainted mother would want for you is for you to ruin your life by feeling guilty that you could not do the totally impossible. We both know she would want you to live a happy, productive life, son. Can you do that for her? Can you give her, even though she is no longer with us, what you know in your heart she wants for you?” Coach stopped talking, and sat there looking Joey in the eye.

Ten thousand emotions flitted across Joey’s face. His eyes were unfocused as he searched inside himself for the real, god’s honest truth. Finally, pensively, he started eating again.

Three days later, Joey was at his locker putting his morning-classes books away, and getting ready to head for lunch. A girl was standing several lockers down, fiddling with her hair as she coyly looked the new school hero over, out of the corner of her eye of course. One of her girlfriends suddenly stepped in beside her, blocking her flirtatious observance of Joey. The two girls talked to each other animatedly, in heated whispers. All of a sudden, the girl that had just arrived blurted out, “CHICKEN!”

The first girl, the one that had been eyeing Joey, flounced then replied indignantly “I am NOT!”

The obligatory “Prove it!” was of course the next comment in the exchange. The first girl placed her books in her locker and strutted toward Joey, moving with a full head of steam. Without hesitation, she walked right up to Joey, flung her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips!

Joey stood there in shock, eyes wide, his fingers touching his lips where she had kissed him.

Joey couldn’t concentrate enough to study that night. Finally he gave up and just lay in bed looking at the ceiling, remembering how she had tasted, how she had smelled, how she had walked. Her teasing look back over her shoulder as she walked away had Joey entranced. His hand moved cautiously down his rippled stomach where he found his pud already standing proud. The sensation of his fingers on his cock were incredible. Then it hit him, his cock was still growing, becoming longer than it had ever felt before. And thicker. He quietly got out of bed, pulled on a robe, and went down the hall to the bathroom, where he closed the door, locked it, and turned on the light. He looked down at his penis. He had never seen it so swollen and hard. And never had it been this size before. Had it? Every time he touched it, it quivered and jumped. His fingers felt exquisite as they softly investigated it’s gnarly surfaces. Joey started to feel himself tense up as he toyed with this unexpectedly marvelous thing between his legs. And what was that clear stuff leaking out of it’s hole? Was he losing his ability to not pee his pants? But it wasn’t yellow, it was crystal clear and slightly stringy. It had no smell either.

Joey moved his fingers down his shaft, to see what would happen with the clear liquid if he milked his cock like he did when he had finished taking a piss. The resulting unexpected jerk of his hips caught him by surprise. ‘My god that felt good!’ Joey did it again. And again. And suddenly his cock started spurting as it took full control of him. He could not believe what was happening. He turned spastic, but it felt so so so so good! OH MY GOD it felt good!

The sudden, unexpectedly pleasant, spurting seizure really took the energy out of him. Joey slumped against the sink as he watched more of the white stuff leak out of his pee hole. He looked up and was shocked to see lots more of the white goo all over the mirror and sink, and even on the wall and towel. But it had felt better than anything ever had before. His shaft was no longer hard, either. The white goo kept leaking out, but seemed to be decreasing in volume at least.

It smelled like Chlorine bleach, sort of.

Joey remembered his health teacher talking about this many years before, in junior high. What had she said, anyway? Then the word that had seemed so stupid when she talked about it suddenly flooded his mind.

‘Orgasm!’ That’s what that was called! And the white stuff was sperm. HIS sperm. In a daze, Joey realized he was becoming a man.

Joey awoke the next morning with another huge achy erection. But his unit felt dead, like it had lost its edgy sensitivity. Joey was disappointed. He wanted to experience another one of those glorious orgasms!

Then he had to wait for the stupid thing to subside before he could pee. As he stood there idling, waiting, he remembered the kiss the girl had bestowed on him the noon before. His penis got harder, not softer. Finally he gave up and went back to his room to get dressed. But by the time he got back to his room, Joey’s penis was soft. He hurried back to the bathroom and quickly peed, breathing a sigh of relief as the ache in his bladder subsided. Joey peed for a very long time. When he looked down, some white stuff was circling in the toilet. It kind of looked like a long albino lugy.

That morning took forever to pass. Joey kept getting a hard-on during class. Every time he thought about that girl’s kiss, he would feel a stiff bonor rise in his underwear. And the area between the base of his cock and his butt hole was aching.

Finally, at noon, there she was again, standing at her locker, eyeing him out of the corner of her eye. Joey’s eager young cock suddenly inflated to a rampant erection. It was incredibly embarrassing when the girl looked down at his groin and giggled. But his bonor wouldn’t subside. He tried to hide it with his hands and then when that didn’t work, with a book.

The girl sashayed over to him, stopping only a few inches away from him, looking up into his eyes, smiling at him. “Can I help you with that mean old hard on, Joe?” she snickered, her voice full of silk and honey.

Joey was totally tongue-tied. He tried to stammer ‘No’ but the word simply never came out. She stood on her tip-toes, kissed him again, then murmured huskily, “Meet me after football practice at Dandies. I’ll help you with that.” And she turned to leave. Then she turned back and added, “I’m Vickie, by the way.” She impulsively gave him another quick peck on his lips then again turned away and strode purposefully down the hall toward her next class. Joey’s eyes didn’t miss a single thing.