Mumbo Jumbo

That's what they called it: Mumbo Jumbo. You wouldn't think they could have kept it a secret all those years. But Coach Hayes made them promise, and he wasn't someone you crossed, so there weren't even any rumors. I didn't know the thing existed until my junior year in high school when I tried out for the football team.

I promised myself I'd be honest. Trying out wasn't my idea. It was Joey's. Sure, I liked to throw a football around as much as any other guy. But showing up for practice after classes every day?

"And don't forget the pain, Joey. You know what I'm talking about? Coach Hayes makes the team run two miles double-time before each practice. That's not counting all the jumping jacks and pushups and situps and God knows how many other ups he makes them do. For starters. Before they get down to the rough stuff. Agony, Joey. That's what I'm talking about. You're sure you know what you want to get us in for?"

We were having cherry Cokes and fries down at the Chicken Nest near the school. A lot of good times. Of course, the Nest's torn down now. Seven years ago, the city made it a parking lot. But I remember Joey bracking through a straw at the bottom of his Coke, squinting at me across the table. "Joining the team would be something to do," he said. "If we make it, of course."

"Oh, that's no problem. We'd make it all right."

"I'm not so sure."

"Come on." I ate a fry with ketchup on it. "We're big guys, and we're in shape."

"We're overweight. And Danny, we're not in shape. This morning I had to pull in my gut to button my jeans. Anyway, that's not the point. I told you, playing with the team would be something to do. We can't just hang around here or down in your rec room all the time."

"What's wrong with playing records and – "

"Nothing. But it's not enough."

I stopped eating fries and frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you get the feeling we're not going anywhere?"

I shook my head, confused. I'd never heard Joey talk that way before.

"Left out," he said. "All the extra stuff they do at school. The student council, the way they're always included in what's going on."

"That stuck up Bill Stedman. Ever since he got elected president last year, he walks around like he owns the goddamned school."

"And the plays the drama club puts on, and the debating team, and – "

"All that's candy ass. What's with you? You want to be an actor now?"

"I don't know what I want to be." Joey rubbed his forehead. "But I want to be something. Those guys on the football team. They look like…"

"What?"

"Like they enjoy being good at what they do. They look damned proud. You can tell they're glad to belong."

"But all that pain."

His eyes had been bright. They seemed to be looking at something far away. Then all at once they came back to normal. He gave me that sly grin of his. "But there's a payoff. Those football players date the sexiest girls in school. All those muscles give the cheerleaders the hots."

I grinned right back. "Why didn't you say so? Now I get it. Why hang around here when there's a chance to date Rebecca Henderson?"

"Or her girlfriend, huh?"

We started laughing so hard that the waitress told us to shut up or leave, and that's how we came to try out for the football team, and how I learned about Mumbo Jumbo.

These days I've got a beer gut, and I puff if I walk up a couple flights of stairs, and my doctor says my cholesterol count's too high. Cholesterol. Back then you should have seen us, though. Granted, what Joey had said was right. We were overweight and soft. But we soon changed all that. The conversation I just described took place the week before school started, and Joey had us lifting weights and running laps even before Coach Hayes announced the dates for try-outs. When we showed up on the football field behind the gym that first Saturday of the school term, asking to join the team, Coach Hayes took his cap off, scratched his head, and wondered if we were kidding.

"No, we mean it," Joey said. "We really want to join."

"But you guys know my rules. You can't be on the team unless your scholastic average is B."

"Then we'll study harder. We'll raise our grades."

"Or waste my time, not to mention the team's. Your record speaks for itself. I've got no patience with guys who don't commit themselves."

"We'll try. We promise," Joey said. "Please. It's important to us."

"But look at the flab on you two. Sure, you're tall enough."

"Six foot," Joey said. "Danny's a quarter inch taller."

"But how are you going to keep up with the other guys? Look at Welsh over there. He's been working out all summer."

I glanced at Welsh, who was running through the holes in a double row of tires laid out on the field. He made it easily. Me, I'd have been groaning on my way to the hospital.

"You'll give up as soon as thing's get tough," Coach Hayes said. "Why pretend different?"

"All we're asking for is a chance," Joey said. Coach Hayes rubbed a big, tanned, calloused hand across his mouth. "A chance? Okay, I'll give you one. The same chance the other boys have. Show me you can keep up with the training. Get in shape, and earn decent grades. We'll see."

"That's all we want. Coach, thanks."

"One hundred percent. Remember, I won't accept less. If you guys get on the team and then stop trying, you'll wish you hadn't asked to join."

"One hundred percent."

"And Danny, what about you? You haven't said anything." I nodded, wondering what the hell I was doing there. "Yeah, right, one hundred percent."

It was more like two hundred percent – of torture. The weightlifting and sprints Joey and I had been doing were a joke compared to what Coach Hayes soon made us do. Even the guys who'd stayed in shape all summer had trouble keeping up with the routines. That two-mile double-time warmup nearly killed me. And the calisthenics – I threw up when I got home and smelled the meat loaf my Mom had cooked.

The next morning, Sunday, my knees felt so stiff I hobbled when I crawled out of bed. I groaned to Joey on the phone, "This isn't going to work. I'm telling you I can't make the try out today. I feel like shit."

"Danny," my mother said from the kitchen. "Watch your language."

"You think you feel worse than me?" Joey asked. "All night I dreamed I was doing situps. My stomach's got rocks in it."

"Then let's not go."

"We're going. We promised. I won't break my word."

"But what's the point? Even a date with Rebecca Henderson isn't worth the agony we'll be going through."

"Rebecca Henderson? Who cares? The team," he said. "I want to make the team."

"But I thought – "

"I said that just to get you interested. Listen, Danny, we've got a chance to belong to something special, to be good at something, better than anybody else. I'm tired of being a fuckup."

On the phone in the background, I heard Joey's mother tell him to watch his language.

"But my back feels – "

"We've been friends a long time, right?"

"Since we started grade school."

"And we've done everything together, right? We went to the movies together, and we went swimming together, and we – "

"I get the idea. But – "

"So I'm asking you, let's do this together, too. I don't want to lose your friendship, Danny. I don't want to do this by myself."

Inside I felt warm, knowing what he was trying to tell me. Sure, it was sappy, but I guess I loved him like a brother.

"Okay," I said. "If it means that much to you."

"It means that much."