SETTING:
A late-1980s football practice field, next to a Frankenstein high school patched together with multiple annexes over multiple decades. The school sits near the center of a conservative former farm town, now wealthy western suburb of Chicago. In the distance behind the field is a small Jewel grocery store. Above the Jewel sign, the town clocktower can be seen. The clock gongs 8 o’clock on a dewy August morning that promises to turn the dirt-spotted practice field into a brick oven well before noon.
CHARACTERS:
John Towne, Chemistry teacher and Head Coach of the varsity football team. Short of stature and stern, unless actively smiling he appears quietly furious–with the pent-up rage of a church pastor who found out his daughter enjoys servicing the basketball team under the bleachers. JT’s close-set eyes are piercingly blue, and he wears his ballcap pulled low to shade his eyes from the morning sun.
Ross Horn, Athletic Director, Offensive Line and Assistant Head Coach of the varsity football team. With a haircut that only recently graduated from a Beatles Bowl, and a mustache that would do Ron Jeremy proud, his deep baritone is incapable of anything below “too loud for a small room.” The team will soon come to fear three simple words spoken from the man in charge of their conditioning: “On the ball.”
Ron McTavish, P.E. teacher and Defensive Coordinator. A young Mike Ditka–minus a neck–he is plain-spoken and an extremely effective communicator to young men. A graduate of the Christian college across the train tracks from the high school, he neither wears his faith on his sleeve, nor judges his players by theirs–but the strongest epithet he is ever heard to utter is “gosh darn it!” And even then, he blushes.
Billy “Sky” Walker, Defensive backfield coach. The most junior of the coaches. When not wearing mirrored aviators, he appears to be staring off at clouds. No one is entirely sure what he teaches at the high school.
THE BACKGROUND:
The school has legendary graduates, including football luminaries, but the football program has fallen on hard times. Last year’s Varsity team had great potential scuttled by a teachers’ strike (and resulting forfeited games) and reckless personalities. During the prior school year, an alcohol-fueled party resulted in several seniors and then-juniors getting caught with or near alcohol–a violation of the school’s rigid Athletic Code. Several of this year’s seniors were banned from sport, and several more were allowed on the team only on the strictest probation. It is suspected that even more seniors–including football players–were at the party and escaped Athletic Code justice.
THE SCENE:
Somewhere around 80 varsity recruits are lined up in rows, facing the four captains. The first day of practice, every player is in helmet and practice jersey color-coded for offense and defense–and for many, late-80s neon shorts. The captains call out the order of warm-up stretches and calisthenics. Jumping jacks. Hamstring stretches. Then push-ups. Captain Dan calls out “down!” and “up!” and the team counts each push-up until they reach 20.
COACH JOHN TOWNE [Loudly]: That was awful! Out of synch. Do it again!
[The captains look at each other, mentally hit rewind, and call out the instructions. Captain Dan again calls out “down!” and “up!” and the team again counts out 20 push-ups.]
JT [Louder]: Those aren’t push-ups! Jurgens isn’t even going all the way down! Do them again!
[Jurgens, a hulking sophomore defensive lineman elevated to varsity during equipment pickup the prior day, starts to protest, but thinks better of it after immediately being shushed by the teammates near him.]
JT: Start over! All the way down, all the way up, as a team!
[The captains call out the cadence for another 20 push-ups. After 20, some players put their knees down to rest or to stand up. John Towne calls out:]
JT: Still out of synch. Sloppy! A bunch of individuals! Do it again–as a team!
[The captains look at each other again, wordlessly converging on the realization that their first day of leadership will cast them as the soldiers guarding the trains going to Auschwitz. The fourth set of push-ups begins, this time the count stopping at 10.]
JT: Carpenter’s back isn’t straight! He’s got his butt in the air. You guys expect to play football when you can’t even do 20 push-ups? Everyone straighten out your backs! All of you!
[The team holds a plank through a minute or more of denigration from the head coach before…]
JT: Start over!
[The count makes it to 15 before John Towne again interrupts with a shout. Players freeze in the plank position, many with arms shaking already. Ross Horn looks on, his jaw clenched. Ron McTavish keeps his head down, and continues scuffing a hole in the dirt with his cleats. Billy Walker stares off into the distance.]
JT: You have to decide–right here, right now, if you want to be a football team. Or if you want to be Mr. Hot Shot, star of your own show. To be on this team, you don’t have to be the fastest, or the strongest–Lord knows, just about the only guys who passed qualifications are your captains–but you do have to put the team before yourself and give 100 per cent every day. That’s the rule. And you have to follow the rules! Start again!
[The captains call out the instructions and start the cadence. Again, the count gets to 10 before interruption. The team again holds a plank. Most players are breathing hard. Some are gasping.]
JT: Weller isn’t going down all the way, start over!
[A pattern seems to be emerging, with Head Coach John Towne singling out the younger players as failing. The seniors avoid critique. The captains start the count over.]
JT: Stop! Half the receivers don’t have their backs straight. Maybe it’s because none of you made qualifications in bench press…
[Sweat streams liberally from player’s faces while they hold planks and attempt more sets. Gasping and grunting and coughing comes from most players; some sound like they’re beginning to retch. No one knows the total count for certain, but somewhere north of 180 push-ups, Ross Horn’s stoic mask cracks.]
ROSS HORN [muttering loudly]: Jesus, John, I think they get the point.
[John Towne glares daggers at Ross Horn, who returns the stare without flinching. Ron McTavish suddenly looks up from the ground and shouts.]
RON MCTAVISH: OK, we’ll save the rest for the afternoon! Let’s break into position groups. Front seven, on me! D-backs, follow Coach Walker to the south fence. Offensive line, with Coach Horn at the sled. Backs and receivers, with Coach Towne…
[The players get to their feet, shakily, and head towards their coaches. Joe Fisher, a junior tight end, is the first to vomit that day, noisily through his face mask.]