Ring in Mine
Kim Terry
In many ways this is a continuation of the original Ring in Mine story. I was asked about the other two boys that were involved in the reprogramming. How did they cope? I found I couldn.t tell you how they coped without getting to know them and their situations. This is the start of John's story. It is written in third person. I hope you enjoy getting to know him as much as I did.
Thank your for the emails. I appreciate even a short, "I'm reading your story," goes a long way.
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(If there are errors I do apologize up front. I find proofreading is a lot like steam cleaning your carpet. It doesn't matter how many times you go over something you still find another error or two.)
Kim
Ring in Mine: John Chapter 1 John's life was filled with disappointments. Not so much for him but for his father.
Coach Mark Litchfield was a big man. His body still showed evidence of his football career. If he were a drinker you would say he had a beer belly.
Football had been his life since junior high. His success in high school provided him a football scholarship that paid for his college, his academic performance would have left him flipping burgers.
Just out of college he was offered the opportunity of a lifetime, to play the in the NFL. With his future assured he married his high school sweetheart, Ruth, a petite slender girl with deep blue eyes and smile that reminded him of an angel. They had their first unprotected sex on their honeymoon.
His first week of training, a fall down the stairs broke his leg and destroyed his knee. His dreams vanished without ever playing in a professional game. Two weeks later the couple learned they would soon be three.
With a family to support he took what entry level jobs that were available until Thanksgiving. The local high school coach had suffered a heart attack, while yelling at a referee. They needed someone to finish off the year. Based on their urgency and his college career, the district hired the local football hero. Coaching wasn't as good as playing but it was better than warehouse work, even with the driver's education and health classes.
The day his son was born his heart was filled with joy and his mind filled with visions of a broad shouldered youth fulfilling his father's dream of a professional football career. The child with his mother's sapphire eyes and light complexion was a prophecy of the disappointment Mark would endure.
There were complications during the birth. John would be Mark's only chance at having a son just like him, a little Mark.
At three, John was a small child with a vocabulary that belied his age. At night Mark would told stories of strong heros and sport legends to his son. His mother read the classics: Treasure Island, Gulliver's Travels, and the original versions of Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland and Winnie the Pooh. By five, John was reading on a fourth grade level. His mother, Ruth, was ecstatic. His father couldn't see past his small stature and glasses. John could easily have spent his free time reading. Mark had other ideas. They tossed a football, baseball, or shot hoops. John enjoyed his father's attention except often in frustration Mark would throw his hands in the air.
His father enrolled him in one little league sport after another. It's not that John didn't try. He really did. He would take the field and hustle. If success were based on effort alone John would have filled the mantle with trophies to go with his father's.
In baseball, with his impaired vision, John truly had no idea how far away the ball was. The one time he got on base it was because the pitcher hit him with the ball.
He stood on first base, favoring the leg that had been hit. The next batter hit a pop fly to the outfield. After the catch John touched the base. The outfielder threw the ball over the first baseman's head.
"Run!" The first base coach yelled. John ran as hard as he could.
He heard the crowd yell, "Slide! Slide!" John slid. That was one thing from practice he could do. With his foot touching the base he watched the ball fly over his head into the glove of the second baseman.
The shout of "Safe!" made his day. He listened to the crowd shout their encouragement. This excitement was a heady feast, but seeing his dad shouting with the crowd was what he had worked for most of his life.
As he touched home plate putting his team ahead by one he was the hero. The team was all pat on the back and great job.
He heard his dad yell, "Way to hustle John." It was music to his ears.
The opposing team rallied. It was the last inning. There were two outs and a man on third base. With the other team ahead by one the game rested on the shoulders of the next batter. Silence fell over the crowd. John walked to the home plate. His heart was filled with fear. He had not hit the ball once yet this season.
"You can do it John!" His father's shout raised his spirits. He was used to derision, not encouragement. Maybe he could do it. All he really had to do was make it to first base and the score would be tied.
John tapped his bat against the plate and took his stance. He swung at the first pitch.
"Strike One!" The umpire shouted. John let the next three go by.
"Ball Three!" Rang across the field. John swung at the next and ticked the ball.
"Strike Two!" The next pitch would be the deciding point of the game. The ball left the pitcher's hand. Almost in slow motion the ball closed the distance. The crack of the ball and bat meeting filled his core with joy. The ball flew high in the air. The catcher caught the foul ball ending the game, his team losing by one run. John just stood at the base. He had hit the ball. He might have gotten out but he had hit the ball. It could, no it should have been an opportunity to bond with his son. Mark focused not on the run earned but the losing strike out.
"You are such a loser. I can't believe you lost the game." Mark left his son at the plate. John's coach overhearing the interaction came out to reassure the boy.
"John, two kids struck out before you came up to bat. We win together or we lose together." He said.
"I hit the ball. I really hit the ball." John answered in a daze. John joined the other players lined up to congratulate the winning team.
After the team meeting, John walked to the parking lot. His father's car was gone. John's best friend and next door neighbor, Andrew was on the opposing team.
"John, do you need a ride home." Andrew called across the rapidly disappearing parked cars.
"Thanks. Dad had a meeting he had to attend." John lied.
At home, John shared the story of actually scoring a run and even hitting the ball. His mom was all hugs and kisses.
"I think that deserves hot from the oven cookies and a glass of milk." His mom announced.
"Did he tell you he struck out and let his team down." Mark announced as he came through the door. He took the plate of cookies and left to watch some real athletes on TV.
"Cookies are for winners." He shouted for the living room.
His mom slipped some cookies onto a paper plate.
"Why don't you share these with Andrew." His mom suggested softly. John didn't even take the time to change. He took the cookies and ran next door before his dad made another appearance.
John's father pretty much quit going to games and avoided practice altogether. Mark had instilled in his son that you finish what you start. Much to the dismay of his coaches John never missed a practice and never missed a game.
The first time John hit the ball in practice he almost forgot to run. It had taken all summer but he had finally figured out how to judge the location of the ball. After the last game of the season John ran into the house. His smile spread from ear to ear.
"Dad I hit the ball twice. The winning run was scored when I hit the ball to right field." John shared.
"How many runs did you make?" Mark asked with a sneer.
"None, but I hit two runs in!" John answered with much less enthusiasm. "Coach said we won because we worked as a team."
Mark turned back to his TV show. John turned and went to his room. He wasn't going to let his father see him cry.
With the turn of the season, Autumn brought touch football. John was fast. All of the time he spent playing catch with his father paid off. In practice John was actually succeeding. With Andrew as quarterback John would run down the field, turn and if the ball was flying his direction he would snatch it from the sky and run for the goal.
John was excited for the first real game. He would finally make his dad proud and at his game.
No one paid attention to the little kid that ran down the field on every play, until the fourth down and Andrew threw the ball. Just as in all the hours of practice in the backyard, the ball seemed to magically appear in John's hands. He ran for the goal. No one was near him. It was with a jubilant heart he crossed the goal line for the first touchdown of the game.
John caught the ball for the extra point. With John's speed and agility he was a force to deal with. He seemed to slip through spaces barely big enough. The opponents' flags seemed to jump into his hands. The second time he nabbed the quarterback's flag before he could get rid of the ball angered the other team.
When John grabbed the flag on the fourth down a foot shy of a first down. He fell to the ground. The big tackle on the other team apologized and helped John to his feet.
On the very next play Andrew threw the ball to John in the end zone. The throw was perfect, spiraling through the air. The big tackle was running for John. Which would arrive first? The other kid claimed he tripped. Either way John lay on the ground. The ball clutched to his chest with his good arm. The other was bent all wrong. John's first football game ended up with John in the emergency room and on the side lines cheering his friend to victory for the rest of the season. For Mark this was too close to his own failure to comfort his son.
Free from the need to practice football John threw himself into his academics. He was reading far beyond grade level. He easily earned straight A's. His teacher and mother struggled to keep him challenged. John was more than willing to help other students in the class. His art teacher helped John discover his talent for putting images on paper. He was really good at it. Even when John drew sports figures it was a little too `queer' for Mark's comfort.
Though this story is finished. It in some ways will continue in John's story. (The young boy from Chapter 34.) It will be posted as additional chapters to this story.
If you would like me to drop you a note when it begins posting, just ask. I would appreciate hearing from you. ringinmine@yahoo.com