The Quarterback Ch. 01

"Jimmy, you're so dumb; you can't fart and chew gum at the same time."

Everyone in the pizza shop heard my comeback, and they started to roar. Needless to say, Jimmy did not see the humor. He grabbed my shirt and jerked me to my feet.

"Oh, I'm going to mess you up big time, white bread," Jimmy said with a nasty smile. "Let's step outside so I can show you who the dumbass is."

Jimmy started to drag me to the door, but he suddenly stopped and yelled, "Let go of me, tubby!"

I looked around, and one of the offensive linemen, Joey Weaver, had a tight grip on Jimmy's arm. Joey's nickname was Tuba because he used to play the tuba in middle school. And Joey was extremely sensitive about his weight. Presently, he was in the neighborhood of three hundred and ten pounds.

After Jimmy had screamed his demand, I saw Tuba do something remarkable. He grabbed the front of Jimmy's shirt and lifted him off the ground with one hand.

"I'm sure I didn't hear you correctly," Tuba said calmly. "I'm sure that you said Tuba, didn't you?"

Jimmy's eyes had gotten as large as saucers, and fear radiated from every pore of his body. The wide receiver quickly began to nod his head. "Yeah, that's exactly what I said - Tuba."

"I thought so," Tuba said as he lowered Jimmy to the floor. "Oh, and leave my quarterback alone. We offensive linemen get really upset if someone messes with our quarterback. Do you feel me?"

"Yeah, man, I feel you," Jimmy said, turned, and left.

Tuba looked at me, chuckled, and told me to pick on someone my own size. Jimmy was six-three and weighed a hundred and ninety-five pounds. I always liked Tuba, and our friendship lasted long after high school.

Jimmy had departed so quickly that he had neglected to take Melinda with him. Trying to be a good guy, I decided to take her home. But first, I took her to the Sundowner diner and got her a cup of coffee. After being seated, I was shocked when Melinda started giving me hell. That pissed me off, so I told her she was on her own. However, once outside the diner, I called her father and told him where he could find his daughter. Melinda did not talk to me for the rest of the year, which was no skin off my nose.

By Junior year, I had gone through a growth spurt. Now I was six foot two, weighed a hundred and ninety-five pounds, and had gotten stronger and a little faster. Yet, I was considered slow compared to the speed merchants on our team. Jimmy was still the fastest by far; he could run forty yards in four-point-five seconds. He was running NFL-quality speed in high school.

Two things happened in my junior year. I learned to play tight end, and I had a steady girlfriend. Her name was Gina Sullivan, and she was a transfer student. I was still shy around girls and thought Gina was out of my league. Finally, it was Gina who made the first move. She asked me if I would take her to the Autumn Dance. After that, we became exclusive for the rest of our junior year and part of our senior year.

In my junior year, our team was not particularly strong. We had lost a lot of people to graduation, and their replacements were not nearly as good. Akem was our quarterback, and I was splitting time in practice between quarterback and tight end. One of the problems was that Akem was a scrambling quarterback, and he was not a consistent passer. He was, however, fast, and elusive. The problem with that kind of quarterback is that they tend to become one-dimensional, which limits the offense. We also did not have great running backs or a strong offensive line. Tuba was the only one that was consistent, playing left tackle.

We struggled all season long but finished with a seven and two record. That got us into the playoffs, where we struggled to advance. We made it to the semi-finals, and surprisingly, we blew out St. John's. Akem was on fire that day, scoring four touchdowns and throwing for two more. I caught one of those TDs from my tight-end position. We won 42 - 10.

The finals were against the state's number one high school team that year, Clinton High. They were favored over us by two touchdowns, but Akem had other ideas. Everyone thought that Clinton would stifle our offense and roll over our defense. Well, the second part was accurate. Clinton scored pretty much at will. However, our team answered back each time on the strength of Akem's running and throwing.

With less than two minutes to play, Clinton scored and was now up 42-38. We got the ball back, and Akem ran two plays for fifteen yards. But on the third play, he got nailed and had to come out of the game. After Akem went down, I discovered something about myself. I could handle pressure. I trotted onto the field and began driving our team down the field. Clinton had prepared to defend against Akem, and they had no idea what to do with me.

Finally, we were on Clinton's four-yard line with five seconds to go. I knew we only had time for one play. The coach loaded one side of the field with three wide receivers. Jimmy went in motion just before the snap as the play was designed. Whoever was supposed to cover him blew their assignment. I threw a perfect strike to him in the corner of the endzone. He dropped the pass.

It was a bitter defeat, but no one said anything to Jimmy. I was disappointed, but not as much as I thought I would be. The season was over, and it was time to put it behind us. However, I did not know until much later that Jimmy obsessed about that pass and blamed his drop on me. To this day, I have never figured out why. But as the years rolled on, he decided he would fuck with me, and more specifically, with my love life, any chance he got.

The rest of the year was great with Gina as my girlfriend. On National signing day, we learned that Akem accepted a full scholarship to Alabama. Jimmy had a free ride at Michigan State, and Tuba was recruited by Clemson.

At the beginning of my senior year, I was named the starting quarterback, but I never got a chance to shine. We had a new running back, Tabor Miller. He transferred in as a senior, and he was a battering ram. He was like a black bowling ball. Tabor was five foot seven, two hundred ten pounds of solid muscle, and he could run the forty in four-point-six seconds. And due to his low center of gravity, he was hard to bring down. We were great friends until he betrayed me.

Harrison became a dominant power again with our reconstituted offensive line and a replenished defense. We breezed through the regular season and easily made it to the finals. Most of our offense was on the ground. Opposing teams had a really hard time stopping Tabor. And when they would for a few plays, I would start to pick apart their secondary. That would force the opposing linebackers and secondary to back off, and Tabor would go to work again.

My life was going great until two weeks before the State Finals. I had a part-time job and thought I was scheduled to work one Friday night. However, they had scheduled two of us to work by mistake, so I went home. After changing, I headed over to Gina's house. But when I got there, I saw Tabor's car in the driveway. When I walked up to the driver's side window, I was stunned. Gina and Tabor were making out in the front seat. As they were kissing, Tabor had his hand under Gina's bra.

I was so mad that I jerked open the driver's side door and dragged Tabor out as I screamed, "WHAT THE FUCK!"

Gina screamed, and Tabor scrambled to his feet. Even in the dark, it looked like he had turned two shades whiter.

"Jason, I'm so sorry," Tabor said immediately. "We just didn't know how to tell you."

"I'm so sorry, Jason," Gina was sobbing. "We just fell in love."

"Well, fuck both of you," I snarled and headed to my car. Tabor tried to grab my arm, but I yanked it away. "You stay away from me, Tabor. You are a backstabbing piece of shit. And Gina, you're a slut."

It seems I was the last to learn what was happening in my love life. I was told that Jimmy convinced Gina I was cheating on her. She, however, never said a word to me. Instead, Gina took what Jimmy said as gospel and plotted her revenge. And the revenge was Tabor. I admit that I made it easy for them because I had limited time to spend with my girlfriend with practice, trying to keep my grades up, and my part-time job. After a few dates, nature took its course. Gina and Tabor had fallen in love.

I cried most of the way home, finally getting myself under control a block from my house. It was not until I walked into the kitchen that I realized that I had cut my hand badly. I must have raked it across the edge of the door or something. My mother screeched when she saw the blood and immediately took me to the emergency room. They had to put three stitches in my hand and told me to ice it. They also gave me some pain medication.

Fortunately, I had two weeks to heal, and it was not my throwing hand. Still, the injured hand was stiff and sore, causing me to get very little practice time. Everyone on the team knew what had happened between Tabor and me. In fact, it became really embarrassing because, eventually, everyone in school knew about it. Most of the school took my side, but I was too devastated to care.

Tabor and Gina had tried to talk to me for two weeks before the game. But I was still furious at the betrayal. Then on the Friday before the championship game, they cornered me after my English class. They desperately wanted to talk. I did not give two tinker's damns what they had to say. Their actions had said it all. But they were relentless.

Finally, I exploded. "Leave me the Fuck alone! You are both backstabbing pieces of shit. Tabor, I will only talk to you during a game or practice and only if it is about football. We are not friends anymore, and I hope something horrible happens to both of you."

And that was the last time I spoke to Gina or Tabor until many years later when they were in a desperate situation. And by then, the memory of Gina's and my breakup was just a distant memory. I had long since realized that Gina and I were not meant to be. But back then, it hurt as only young love can.

My hand was still stiff when I got to the state capital to play my last high school game. Our opponent was once again Clinton High. And they had almost their entire team back from last year.

The championship game turned into a massive struggle between two evenly matched teams. But we were up 17-14 with a little under three minutes left in the game. We had the ball, but it was third and eight from our thirty-two-yard line. I felt we should pass, but the coach called a running play. He was playing it conservatively. If we did not pick up the first down, we would punt, and Clinton would only have about two minutes to move down the field and score. In fairness to the coach, our defense had come alive in the second half and stopped Clinton cold.

Anyway, I called the play and handed the ball off to Tabor. He broke through the line, and it looked like he might pick up the first down for a second. But then he got hit, and he twisted to get away. This brought his left foot down at a funny angle when a Clinton safety hit him. Tabor not only went down, but he fumbled the ball. Clinton scooped it up and ran into our endzone. It was like all the air had been let out of the Harrison side of the field.

But the game was not over. I still had about two minutes. Unfortunately, Ronnie Stills tried to run the kickoff back and got nailed at the seven-yard line. We had to go ninety-three yards to win. Quickly and efficiently, I was able to move our team. With eleven seconds to go, we were at Clinton's nine-yard line. But it was fourth down and goal.

As soon as the ball was snapped, I was scrambling like a chicken with its head cut off. Clinton had come with a safety blitz, and Tabor's replacement, Hank Freeman, had not picked it up. As I was being forced to the sideline, I saw Josh Witten open in the middle of the endzone and fired an off-balance pass to him. I thought he could haul it in for a microsecond, but it tipped off his hands. Another bitter defeat.

The fallout from that game was far-reaching. First, the coach was fired. Then, for the first time in seven years, not one senior from our team was offered a scholarship to a division one school. I wasn't even offered a partial scholarship to a division three school. Also, Tabor's football career was finished after that game. He had shattered his ankle and badly damaged his knee. Even though I was still mad at him, I did feel bad about that. A healthy Tabor would have certainly gotten a scholarship.

I was not super smart, so there was no way I would get an academic scholarship, but my grades and SAT scores were good enough to get me into most colleges. Most everyone I knew already knew which college they were going to attend. I learned that Melinda got an academic scholarship to the University of Florida. I, however, did not know where I wanted to go. My parents were pressuring me to attend the local college, Taylor University, a division two school.

I applied at Ohio State, Florida State, and Penn State. I also applied to Taylor University to please my parents. Taylor's football coach called me and told me that he would really love me to come to play for the Taylor Tigers. And I was ready to accept when I got a call from the quarterback coach, Bob Snider, at Florida State. Coach Snider told me he wanted me to come to FSU. However, he told me he could not give me a scholarship and that I would be a walk-on. But if I made the team and stuck, he would get me a scholarship the following year.

I had to think about this, so I headed for the Sundowner diner. Once I got my milkshake, I considered my options. On the one hand, Taylor University was not offering me a scholarship. Still, the tuition was cheaper, and I could live at home. On the other hand, Florida State only offered me a chance to make the team. It seemed like a no-brainer at that point. But then Tabor and Gina walked into the diner.

They held hands and then cuddled together once seated at a booth. I was in the back, and they didn't see me. But it struck me that if I went to Taylor University, there was no way I could avoid seeing those two. Right then, I made my decision. I was going to be a Seminole.

I went to Tallahassee in mid-June and almost died of the heat. It was especially brutal because I took a job with a roofing company for the summer. I needed every dollar I could raise, and working as a roofer paid well. My parents had put some money away in a college fund for me, but they had really hoped I would go to Taylor University. But, when I explained why I needed to leave, they were very understanding and promised to help as much as possible.

One of the bonuses of my job was that I arrived at my first FSU practice in much better shape than most of the rest of the players. The hot, humid Tallahassee heat did not bother me as much as it did for most of my teammates. After grueling weeks of practice, I made the team. And Coach Snider was good to his word, giving me a full scholarship starting my second year. My parents were thrilled.

The only problem was that Florida State already had four quarterbacks, and I knew the coaches would not let me sit on the bench for the whole season. Yet, I had no idea what they would want me to do. I was relieved and pleased when they made me the placeholder because I had experience doing that. I still got to sit on the bench most of the time and only had to go in for field goals and extra points.

Perhaps the highlight of the year for me was when we played Michigan State in the Sugar Bowl. We won when Ronnie Gardo, our placekicker, hit a fifty-one-yard field goal with three seconds left in the game. My parents got to see me on national television. But even better than that, I saw Jimmy Washington's expression as the ball sailed through the uprights. As the commercial said, it was priceless. Unfortunately, it was just another thing that stirred Jimmy's hatred of me.

The summer after my freshman year, I worked for the same roofing company again. This summer was worse than the last because there were constant showers that upped the humidity, and I was now working on the roof most of the time. The humidity drained you each day. But it did put me in prime shape for my sophomore year. I did not date very much that summer because I was too damn tired most of the time.

When August's practices started, I was perhaps the only person on the squad who was relieved. Most of the team hated the grueling practices, but I found them less intense than working my ass off on a roof in the hot Florida sun.

When the season finally started, I was told to shadow the coach. I was not too crazy about the assignment, but when the coaches tell you to jump, you only ask how high. I was a little miffed because I did not get to flash in the plays or wear the headset. Still, it was a great learning experience. The coach was constantly passing out bits of information that I filed away. Also, I spent considerable time watching the opposing quarterbacks and the other team's defenses. I learned how to read a defense and spot tells on the quarterback. Of course, I still had place-holding duties, so I had to carry my helmet around during the game, which sucked. But I was not about to complain.

Since I was not playing much and was only taking snaps with the third-string team, life was stress-free. I had settled into a comfortable routine with my classes and had learned how to manage my time. Time management is perhaps the most important a college student must master. There is so much stuff going on around the campus that it is easy to lose track of what is important, getting an education.

One other thing that improved significantly during my sophomore year was my love life. There were always girls looking to hang out with football players, and I had many dates. However, I did not stay with any one girl because most were too flighty for me. Still, I scored enough to give a right hand a well-deserved rest.

When I came home after my sophomore year, I looked around for a job that would not be as physically demanding as my previous jobs. A friend convinced me to take a job with the local fish canning company. The pay was comparable to what I had earned the previous summers, but I figured it would be less taxing. Unfortunately, I learned too late that my job was not on the assembly line. My job was to haul the dead fish into the cannery. The work was hard, and the smell was horrible. However, all the summer jobs were gone by then, so I was stuck. I did not date much that summer because it was hell getting the stink of fish off me.

In my junior year at FSU, I was officially slotted in as the third-string quarterback until Brad Tillis screwed up his leg in a car accident. By default, I was now the backup quarterback. However, I was also still the placeholder. And that led to another highlight for me. And it happened in the game against our hated rivals, the University of Florida.

The game was brutal and dirty. Both teams had over seventy yards in penalties. A couple of skirmishes erupted but were broken up before real fighting started. In the fourth quarter, we were up 20 - 17 with about six minutes to go. We drove down to Florida's twenty-three-yard line when the drive stalled, and the kicking team went in. It should have been an easy three points, but the center's snap bounced in front of me. I was just able to grab it, but I could not get the ball down, so I had to scramble for my life. Desperately, I looked for someone to pass the ball to, but nobody was open. Then a great block from our kicker, John Albin, sprung me free. The left side of the field was suddenly open, so I took off. I got one more good block and was able to outrace the last defender into the endzone.

We were feeling pretty good because that put us up 27 - 17. But Florida got the ball and marched down the field for a score of their own. With almost three minutes remaining, we only had a three-point lead. We could not move the ball on our next possession and had to punt it away. Florida moved back down the field until they were at our forty-six-yard line. But with fifty-seven seconds to go, Ned Tyler intercepted them, and we hung on to win 27 - 24.