At one point, Cassidy had offered to hurt people for me in exchange for favors. She’d made the offer right after she’d taken out my manny when he’d hurt Coby and Duke. I’d let her drive my Demon as a boon for her services on that one. I bet she would take out both Tim and Wolf if I offered to take her to dinner again. She might do it for a bag of chips. Hell, she might do it for free since we were talking about these two knuckleheads.
Moose called us over to start the game.
◊◊◊
Through seven innings, Moose had trotted out three pitchers: Bert, Phil, and Trent. He was gearing up for the end of the year when we would need pitching, since we would have back-to-back games in the state playoffs. The three of them had done an excellent job by not allowing a run.
The problem was, we hadn’t scored, either.
In the bottom of the seventh, Johan went in to pinch-hit. He hit a walk-off home run on the first pitch to end it.
◊◊◊
After dinner, I was studying in my apartment when my phone rang.
“This is David,” I answered.
“I was told to call you,” Bo Harrington informed me.
He was my former personal quarterback coach, former assistant at Alabama, and now head coach at Western Michigan.
“I take it Kevin Heathcott asked me to vouch for him,” I said.
“As a matter of fact …”
“He was dosed. He didn’t take anything knowingly,” I said to cut to the chase.
“So, he wouldn’t be a problem in the locker room?” Bo asked.
“They named him their defensive captain as a junior. Kevin has plans to play in the NFL someday. He would be the last person to take recreational drugs.”
“What about other stuff?” Bo asked.
That was always something I suspected, too. Steroids and other performance-enhancement drugs found their way onto football teams everywhere.
“I wouldn’t know,” I admitted.
The fact was, high-level football teams had come a long way as far as training and proper nutrition go. Many star athletes from years past might not even make it onto the field nowadays. The size, speed, strength, agility, and explosiveness of today’s players were light years ahead of what they had been even just ten or fifteen years ago.
It was amazing to see the transformation of players as they matured in these systems. Many programs put out before and after pics of new athletes as they came into a professionally run strength and conditioning (S&C) program. They used the photos as marketing for what they could do for prospective recruits.
I’d been exposed to a lot of these programs because of my status as a top quarterback. It was one of the reasons Lincoln High had brought in a high-level S&C consultant to help establish our own program. The training had started to trickle down to the high school levels, and I predicted it wouldn’t be long before we saw such training in the middle schools.
With all that said, there were always players willing to take risks to get ahead. Kevin’s upper body looked like he’d had some chemical help to get there. At least, that was what it seemed to me.
“What about the other players Ohio State forced out?” Bo asked.
“I honestly only know Kevin. I suspect he would tell you if he thought they were problems,” I suggested.
“Well, I’m considering offering all of them,” Bo shared.
The difference in the level of recruits that Ohio State would pull in versus what Bo would be able to attract at Western Michigan was stark. An infusion of five high-level players would certainly help.
“I’m a firm believer in second chances. I’m also a trust-but-verify kind of guy,” I suggested.
“Okay, I’ll make Kevin the offer. If he accepts, I’ll talk to him about the rest. I have enough headaches starting a new program without inviting trouble.”
“I think you should be okay. Unless they’re total idiots, they now realize that there are consequences to their actions. I doubt there’ll be a third chance if they mess up again.”
After we hung up, I felt better about the Kevin situation. Bo would take care of him. Plus, Bo had NFL contacts that might be able to open some doors for Kevin when the time came.
◊◊◊ Thursday April 20
Tonight, I played my first baseball game since being shot. I struck out three times, but we won. I came home to find Lexi sitting in my kitchen, talking to my parents and Peggy.
“How’d it go?” Dad asked.
“We won, no thanks to me. I was terrible at the plate. Thankfully, they didn’t need me. We won 4–1,” I said and then turned to Lexi. “I had no idea you were coming.”
“You wanted me to plan your Senior Skip Day,” she reminded me.
“I thought you’d do that from LA.”
“You’re not skipping school,” Mom announced.
Everyone turned to look at her. This displayed all the earmarks of one of our power struggles. If it had been Greg who’d received this comment, I might have gone to make some popcorn so I could watch the show that was about to unfold. I have to say, being on the other end sucked.
“I wouldn’t be a good mother if I condoned such behavior. You miss enough school as it is,” she added.
