Our Fridays off after track meets disappeared and as the season progressed we practiced on some Saturdays, but it actually wasn't all that bad. It gave us continuity that wasn't there before. It was a more serious team and the details became important.

Both Beaudreault and Whitey spent a lot of their practice time starting. Whitey took a more dedicated interest in the art. He stood and talked with Beaudreault for long periods as they took each other through their starts. The baton exchange didn't take up as much time as the year before. We knew each other and we'd run together long enough to be confident in our passing technique, but we went through the motions to keep our timing fine tuned.

I was no longer lost in a world that seemed too large, too mean, and too indifferent for me to enjoy my life. At sixteen I was finding things that definitely made my life worth living. It had a lot to do with my friendship with Tommy. Nothing else would have been as enjoyable if Tommy wasn't there to run it by. He had an uncanny knack for heading off my despair while increasing my awareness of the fun I was having. Knowing how important I was to him both baffled me and made me even happier.

I suspected if I opened any contemporary dictionary and looked up the word friend, I'd find a picture of Tommy. He didn't simply be around whenever I needed him, he made time for me. Tommy's life was full of activities and friends but he always had time for me. He helped me to see the depth and breadth of things. With me, the world and everything in it was a dull shade of gray that wasn't inspiring. For Tommy, the world was a rainbow of color and unusual shapes. With him there was no downside to life, merely different sides. While I still found it difficult to be around anyone for long, Tommy was someone that being around always left me better off. No matter what we did, it was timeless. The day would escape and I would suddenly be on my way home before I knew it. He was easy to be around and easy to know. He was the stuff friends are made of.

Tommy was smart about a lot of things and he knew me like a book. I admired him for his many talents. During the previous summer I had gone with him to his father's auto shop in Corral Hills. No sooner than he hit the door, his father had something for him to do. I stood in amazement one afternoon as he reassembled a transmission for his father. I was able to tie my shoes and fix a mean grilled cheese sandwich, looking into that gear box and seeing him deftly fitting the pieces together astounded me.

tt was hard to believe that anyone Tommy's age could have that much stuff in his head and then apply it to assembling a transmission. I did know where the transmission was. I could shift it but that was the first time I saw what was in it and my best friend was putting it together. I already knew he was smart. He picked me for a friend after all, but that day, I knew Tommy was way more than smart.

The other most amazing thing about that day was his father, John. He never came over, never gave him instruction, didn't yell, or snatch some thing out of his hand like he was a dummy.

"I'm done, Pop," Tommy said, when he was done.

"Okay, thanks. I'll put it in later on. You're a big help, Tommy. Sorry I interrupt you boys. See you at dinner."

How neat was that? I was in awe of both of them.

That's the summer Tommy drove go-carts behind Poopeye's Tavern on Marlboro Pike. He was fearless and that scared me. Then came the day he got clipped going into the first turn half way through a twenty-five lap race on the eighth of a mile dirt track. Tommy's go-cart flipped over and over, three or four times. I was the first one to him, applying my speed to get to my friend. He was upside down, cussing like a sailor, wanting to get out. He couldn't release his safety belts and I couldn't get them to release because of how his weight was distributed against them.

His father got there a minute after me and he had him out in a few seconds. I remember how upset he was as we walked away from the track, out toward Marlboro Pike. He didn't say anything for the longest time and then he said, "That's it. I'm not getting in that thing again."

A lot of people would have told him to get back on the horse and tough it up, but I knew him and knew that he'd made a decision about his life and that was it. I had even more respect for him than before. He took some ribbing about quitting, after a lot of time and money went into building him that cart, but his mind was made up.

Driving was freedom and magic for me. I loved to drive and that's what I spent most of my time and allowance doing. I'd never been free before and so driving became like breathing. Whatever change Tommy and I could get together we put in my gas tank and we drove. There were no ties and no restrictions, we'd just go to be going and only stop when we better get home.

One Saturday when I spent the day playing football at Tommy's, we decided to go to the movies after he ate. I sat out on their front porch and was about to go across the street to the new 7-11 they'd just built.

Tommy came to the door and said, "Come on in here and get washed up. Mom says you got to eat with us."

I didn't know Tommy's parents all that well. We had met in passing but I never wanted to hang around adults when it could be avoided. I'd seen his father enough to know he was okay but their mother, Polly, worked and was never home before I left for home on school days. I'd talked to her on weekends and said hello in passing.

I couldn't turn down such a nice offer. I followed Tommy into the house and sat down at the table, and it was the biggest table I'd ever been at except for Thanksgiving dinners or some such as that. It takes a passel of groceries and room to feed seven folks, and I made eight.

I was cautious and didn't eat much but I do remember it was a real good ham, sliced tomatoes, and boiled potatoes. They actually talked to each other at the table. They laughed and joked and ate, of course. I'd never sat at a table where people seemed to be happy to be there. It was never happy at my house. There was always conflict and our dinner table was the battlefield and I developed a battle strategy that had me spending as little time as necessary in the line of fire.

That night on our way to the movies Tommy made my day when he told me, "You know, my Mom has never asked one of our friends to eat with us before. It's hard feeding all of us as it is. I think she likes you."

And I liked them and that year they became like a surrogate family for me. I spent more time at the Reynolds' than I did at my house. They were good people and they made me feel good about myself.

As always Tommy wanted a run down on the first track meet of the year He was pleasantly surprised that Suitland had won. He was more interested in my performance but he got accustomed to hearing about Droter, Whitey, and Beaudreault. After a while he would question me about them. He was particularly interested in Droter as I often called him my friend. He seemed a bit concerned about that word when it came up but I didn't think much about it at the time.

There was another friend I hadn't talked about, because we weren't tied together in any significant way, but Charlie James had more than my name going for him. Over the summer he had bulked up and he was stronger and faster than before. Now Charlie was a sprinter, a quarter man, or whatever you wanted him to be. I don't think he was assigned an event, or maybe I just didn't know what event he was assigned, but he often ran the quarter and in the 4X400 relay. Anyone that could run the quarter had my admiration and also the attention of our coach when he was looking for guys to run the 4x400 relay.

Like with all the members of my first team, Charlie treated me like I was one of the seniors and not like I was one of the Johnny come lately juniors. That's not to say the other juniors were treated different. They were different. They were all new. None of them experienced what the seniors had experienced, but I had, and I was one of them in a way the newer juniors never could be. I wasn't the only one to feel the difference and it did make me different from everyone else, especially once the seniors left me behind.

Charlie, who I'd hardly noticed, was suddenly hanging with Droter, aspiring to be a sprinter, and I was always hanging with Droter, so Charlie and I were hanging together by proxy or by choice.

Charlie became the only outsider that I knew anything about the track team. Oh, I knew who was in what event. By virtue of his presence Charlie James and I became friends beyond anything I'd known on the track team up until then. Mostly I was content at being with my guys at practice and then we all went our separate ways. Charlie being more outgoing than any of the sprinters, wanted to do stuff, go places, actually get to know one another beyond track.

I was Droter's friend by virtue of our relay events. It was a friendship of circumstance and dependence. I don't know Droter would have given me the time of day under other circumstances. He'd become my friend because we shared something neither of us liked or understood, Beaudreault. By the time Beaudreault had turned into a regular guy, which was only my view of things because I'm sure Beaudreault was always a regular guy, Droter and I had become friends of a sort and more so out of adversity. We were able to discuss our roles and bolster each other's morale during the tough times.

My main concern was James' new body that created a need to know more. He had obviously lifted weights and he looked impressive, not Whitey impressive, but mighty impressive in a wannabe sprinter kind of a way. While I didn't feel great warmth for most people, and even less if someone entertained ideas of getting my spot in the relays away from me, was on the outs right off. By virtue of his speed he hadn't been a threat the year before. I was still the third fastest sprinter. What I didn't know was what James was with his new body, and that's what I needed to know.

By the time I had figured out he still wasn't a threat to me he'd already wormed his way into my small circle of friends. My suspicions about him faded and he stayed on, charming everyone with a dazzling smile and a new self-confidence. He was funny, attentive, and stuck with the sprinters even though he didn't have an event. When I wasn't with Droter, or the relay team, I was with James.

There were a few days a week when we would leave together, heading for the Might Mo for a soda. It was on Marlboro Pike a mile away and the Suitland hangout of choice for kids in cars. It was through Charlie that I reconnected with Sandy Perry, from my elementary school days. Little did we know our meeting a new friendship would turn out to be so ill fated.

Sandy dated back to my functionally illiterate days when I was the class clown. Being reminded of it wasn't a big joy in my life but the subject never came up. She was as pretty and clever as ever. The first time she sat down at the table with James and I, it caught me off guard. At first, she stared at me silently for what seemed like a long time and the question was apparent in her eyes as she figured out who I was.

"Sandy, this is my friend, Charlie. He's on the track team with me," Charlie said.

"I know who he is but I never heard you called Charlie before."

"It's his name. He likes it so much he calls me Charlie too. He might call you Charlie before we leave," I said, thinking I sounded like a clown again.

"How are you?" she asked, putting one of her hands on top of mine in a fond way.

"Fine. How have you been?"

It was then I noticed how James' eyes went to the proximity of our hands and then he looked directly at me with a hurt look on his face, only it ran deep and was a lot more serious, although I pretended I couldn't see the passion in his eyes.

"Okay. Didn't see much of each other after elementary school. You grew up nice."

"I suppose. I don't feel all that grown up."

"Sandy and I are going to the beach," James interrupted. "When they open, I mean. You want to come with us?" he asked, putting a special emphasis on the word us.

"Sure he does," Sandy said. "I'd like you to come. Will you? Please!"

"I wouldn't want to be in the way," I said, trying to hand off to James.

"You won't be. Charlie wants you to come, don't you Charlie?" Sandy asked, and she looked at James who swallowed hard and stopped smiling for the first time in three weeks.

"Yeah! I would. He's cool. You know each other, huh?"

"I've gone from being your friend to being cool, James. I somehow don't feel like we're making progress here."

"Well, you are cool ... for a friend."

I suppose the weirdness I felt was offset by the fact Sandy brought James and I even closer together as friends. She always wanted the three of us to hang out together and apparently didn't want to hangout with James alone. At first there was a strain between James and I but once James realized that I had to be there for him to be there, he changed his attitude and was more than happy to ask me along so he could spend time with her.

It was plain to me that James was deeply smitten with her and if it was plain to me, it had to be like a beacon to Sandy. I was sure that she saw me as insulation between her and her admirer. She liked his schoolboy charm and wit but wasn't looking to be involved.

He never asked me to back off or get lost and we did have fun when we got together. Actually, I think they had fun together and I was just there. James was always upbeat and had something funny to say. He was a nice guy and this made track practice more fun, because he was always hanging around, cracking jokes, and it lightened things up some.

Having a friend on the team who was a friend on and off the track was good. James took to sitting with the sprinters on trips to track meets and he always wanted to do something after practice and on weekends. Many days we'd meet up and just cruise in his car.

While I realized that there was a good chance we'd come to odds over Sandy sooner or later, it appeared as though it was going to be later, because he never mentioned it. He was always talking about her, pumping me for information abut her, and wanting to know anything she said about him.

I had no desire to get involved with Sandy, not because she wasn't fun to be with but because I thought my life was complicated enough without adding romance to the mix. Besides, she hadn't given me any indication she wanted more than my company. My life was under control, except when it came to James and his leading questions, and I wanted to keep it that way.

I liked Sandy as a friend and I liked James as a friend and hanging with them was a blast, but the possibility it of it ending badly often crossed my mind. After a while I could even forgot about the way James looked at her, deciding we were all just friends together and individually. I liked our little arrangement and it seemed safe.

My world had expanded in a good way, in spite of my suspicions. Tommy was no longer my only friend. My second track season was cutting into the time we usually spent together, but he had met Bonnie and was spending more and more time with her, so it all worked out and I didn't have to worry about what I wasn't doing.

*****

Returning to Northwestern wasn't as intimidating. In fact, I felt rather confident on the way there. We hadn't gone head to head against any team and we'd only won a relay track meet, which wasn't like any other track meet all year. Going up against the two strongest teams in the county would have been a sure recipe for getting crushed a season ago, but my concerns were modest. I was sure my events were solid and my guys would do all they could to win, and the rest was out of my hands.

The bus rides had become more pleasant than those I took my first season. The insanity of twenty-five boys had been replaced by a mellower attitude that fit in more with how I thought a team should act on the way to a competition. My impression is that these guys took themselves seriously and the forty-five minute drive to Northwestern was used for reflection and focusing. I thought we all thought we could compete and last year all we could do was show up and get trampled.

Guys like Kennerly and Powell were preparing for what it was they were going to do and had no time to joke around. It added to a better attitude and a quieter bus. There was still nervous banter. You can't put thirty-five guys together without getting some noise and disagreeableness, but it was all within a context that seemed compatible with the task at hand. I liked my new team quite a bit and I was having fun.

My guys inhabited the back of the bus as usual, only there were five of us now. No one had any objection to James joining our group. He plopped down beside me all smiles. He never stopped talking, which kept my mind off my butterflies and the apprehensions that came with track meets. I still had a feeling that I was capable of embarrassing myself, and that was probably the worst fate I could imagine at the time.

We entered Northwestern as if we were accustomed to it. We blew through the gate and into their sports complex without hesitating. I notice little things like that. This was the place where we ran the most often and we were beginning to feel comfortable there, taking up our usual spot in the farthest corner of the bleachers.

Coach Becker hadn't given us one of his pep talks before the track meet. Mostly it had been all business and who was assigned to which event. He'd told us that this track meet was better suited to our talent and that we would know more about who we were by the end. We didn't know who we were. We were a bunch of guys that were on the same team but we didn't know what we could do together. It did make me nervous in a way. I didn't like to think we were still capable of embarrassing ourselves as a team as we had done on so many occasions in my first year.

I had the impression that Coach Becker wasn't sure how we'd perform, but why would he, most of these guys had never participated in a regular track meet, pitting them one on one against the competition. In some ways it was our first track meet all over again. Certainly, it was the first competition where all the events would be contested one on one.

There was a built in safety net inside of the relay race. It was about four guys performing together. While there were standouts like Whitey and Beaudreault, mostly it was teamwork. If any element of the four-man race failed, everyone failed. With a guy like Whitey you could recover, but there weren't many guys like Whitey.

It was a sprinter's day. The sky filled with fluffy white clouds and a sun that warmed the track. It's funny how different it had been the year before. We didn't see a nice day until Catonsville but in my junior year, spring had sprung early and it was great. It also made me feel more like running, although my journeys to the starting blocks with Whitey and Beaudreault were no longer to carry their sweats. I went because it gave me something to do, and wishing them well was part of my routine. I'd just have been sitting in the bleachers being nervous if I didn't.

I shook their hands before returning to where the team sat just beyond the finish line. When I turned to find a spot at the top of the bleachers, I ran into James.

"Did you think you might run the 100?"

"I'm not a 100 man. I like going down there with them."

"You think he'll win?"

"Whitey?" I asked just to get a rise out of him.

"Beaudreault?"

"Yeah. They'll finish one, two. No competition."

"Yeah, right," James argued. "Northwestern always has sprinters."

He followed me until I was standing at the top of the bleachers next to Droter. They greeted each other with smiles and we all looked toward the starting line.

"You think his leg is all right," I asked.

"Charles, it's been a year."

"Ten months."

"Ten and a half."

"Do you think it'll hold out?" I repeated.

"We're in sad shape if it doesn't," Droter said, looking at me in a way that told me the tale of the sprint relays without Beaudreault.

And there we were like the Three Musketeers, hanging on the railing at the top of the bleachers, trying to get a glimpse of our guys.

The race went perfect for us. Beaudreault got off to a fast start and Whitey was closing on him and passed the Northwestern sprinter as they hit the finish line. The two High Point runners were fourth and fifth and another Northwestern sprinter finished last.

We risked life and limb dashing down the steps, racing each other to the track. We jumped on our guys and swam in a sea of red and white to congratulate them.

It was great.

When I looked up into the bleachers, the high point team was glumly staring at the Suitland celebration. The Northwestern sprinters beat a retreat back to their team without further ado.

The score was Suitland 8 and Northwestern 1, and I loved it.

When Ron Payne won the first hurdle event, times were good and the questions about our team were being answered one by one. Mulligan led in the discus, Kirtpatrick led in the shot, and Scherer led in the high jump.

Revenge was sweet and it was good to be careful of who you stepped on while you were on your way up, because the one sure bet in sports is that you are going to meet the same guys on your way down. I felt no sympathy for Northwestern although I liked High Point just fine. But High Point had never humiliated us.

We'd hardly gotten settled after greeting Payne after his hurdle event, when Whitey held up the baton as he sat down by Coach Becker. We took our practice into the infield and ran two lengths of the football field and settled down under the goalpost adjacent to where our team sat. We stretched and got into ourselves, thinking about how we'd run our race. It had only been a week that we'd run this race on the same track and there would be no surprises.

It was then that Whitey made his opinion clear.

"We own this place. There's only one team here that can beat us. That's Suitland. Let's don't let that happen."

Whitey wasn't a bragger. He was keenly aware of his facts and his team. We had set the county records in both of our relays on this track, winning both by wide margins only a week ago. We had made enough mistakes last year to last us a lifetime but we knew we could make mistakes if we didn't guard against it.

It was my biggest worry, letting my guys down. There was a different set of nerves that came with expectation. Making a mistake when you sucked, wasn't a big deal. Making a mistake when everyone expected you to win could be the ruin of a good sprinter and lose him his spot on the team. The time, just before we reported for lane assignments, was always the time I doubted myself most, but today I'd learn not to worry so much.

We took the 4X100 by nearly ten yards. Whitey won the open 200 going away. Beaudreault finished second. By the time we were ready to run the 4X200 relay, there was only one word on any of our minds. It was a word that only came up once the year before, but it was a new year and the word was, sweep.

It added only a slight amount of pressure. We'd won half the events in the track meet and were leading by 20 points. There was only the mile, the 4x200 relay, and the 4x400 relay and the meet would be over. High Point would need to win all the remaining events and we'd need to finish last in all of them to lose.

We won the 4X200 relay going away. Todd won the mile and the 4x400 relay finished last, but we'd already won the meet. Whitey and Beaudreault scored the lions share of our points and we'd won in a walk, which was new to us. We'd won two other track meets with one of those being a tie and the other we won by only half a point.


Send Rick an email at quillswritersrealm@yahoo.com

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