THE COMPETITIVE EDGE:
PLAYING THE GAME, BOOK III



For the next few weeks, things stayed in a routine.  An overworked,
stressful, pressure-cooker of a routine, but a routine nonetheless.
We played our games, and our practices also progressed very well.  My
professors kept on piling on the work, but we still found a little
time to goof off and relieve the pressure, if only temporarily.

We lost a non-conference game to the University of Miami Hurricanes
by an embarrassingly lopsided score, but we had an excuse.  More than
half the team was struck by the flu that week, and a few guys,
including Bryan and Rick, were so sick they didn't even make the bus
trip down to Coral Gables.  Even with every one of our available
bench players starting, we still had to field a team that included
three very ill players.  Pick tried to keep the sickest players out
of harm's way, but he had no choice but to put one of them in
midfield.  He tried to work out a substitution rotation that would
spell the ill players often, but with only one half-healthy
substitute, it just couldn't be done.

Martin and I were also down with the flu, though we did manage to
make the bus trip.  I would have been a lot more comfortable dying in
my own dorm room bed instead of trying to find a comfortable position
that didn't make my stomach do flip-flops on a swaying bus, but it
wasn't an option for a lowly freshman like me.  Even being a
freshman, though, Pick and Eddie could see I was way too sick to even
try to take the field.  What little food I was able to force down
didn't stay down, and even water was squirting out my backside like
floodwaters on the muddy Mississippi.  I was so miserable, I felt
like I would have to feel better just to be able to die.

Our backup keeper had also been stricken, and Pick was forced to
start Dan Ortega in goal.  Dan was a little unnerved, having not
played keeper since before high school, but he did his best.  With no
help from his defensive line, what with all three of us down, it was
a lesson in humility for him, and for us as a team.  Our small
consolation was that, looking at the film the next week, we all saw
where we could have exploited their weaknesses, if only we had been
at full strength.  As it was, losing 6-1 was about as good as we
could have expected.

Homecoming for the University of Florida was scheduled for an early
weekend of October.  Homecoming week in Gainesville was crazy.  The
entire campus, students and faculty alike, were going crazy all week,
and the town joined in on the celebration.  Local businesses put up
signs and banners, the bars were practically giving away beer, and
the streets around campus, and even into the downtown area, were all
decorated with flags and streamers in orange and blue.

Very little in the way of constructive schoolwork got in the way of
the festivities.  Naturally, we practiced every day, but classes were
pretty slipshod, there was very little work assigned, and everybody
seemed to look forward to the weekend.  Many of the professors looked
down their noses at what they probably considered to be undergraduate
foolishness, but behind the scowls and the gruff tones some of them
took during lectures, a tiny bit of indulgent amusement could be
detected.  This was underscored by the easing of the workload during
the week, even by the most cynical of instructors.  By the time the
end of the week was approaching, the entire area around campus was
overflowing with clumps of students, alumni, staff, and faculty, all
gearing up for the festivities of the weekend.

And what a weekend it was.  Classes had been cancelled for Friday,
so everybody could either march in the parade down University Avenue,
or watch the parade from a porch, curb, or lawn chair.  Bryan,
Melanie, Reggie and I watched from a table outside The Glass Onion,
courtesy of Skye and Stone.  Joining us was Jesse and his homecoming
date, Brittany Erickson, another sorority sister of Melanie's.  Just
before the first float slowly rumbled down the street, Skye came out
with two bottles of wine and six glasses.

"It's from our personal stash," Skye said with a sly wink.  "It's
homemade by some friends.  I think you'll like it."

Homemade hooch sounded a little dangerous, but I reached for the
bottle anyway.  What the hell, it's Homecoming, I said to myself.  I
filled each glass about halfway, and the six of us raised them in a
toast to a glorious weekend.

"Cheers!"  "Halleluiah!"  "Down the hatch!"

And I brought the glass to my lips.

It was very tasty, a sweet and fruity berry wine of some sort.  We
all made murmurs of appreciation, and I lifted my glass and saluted
Skye, inside her store, minding the counter.  She smiled and waved,
and Stone flashed us a peace sign from his window in the kitchen.

We cheered as the Phi Kap/Omega float went by.  Captain Jack was, of
course, in the pilot's seat of the nautically themed float, taking it
all way too seriously.  He waved down at us, looking imperial in his
Horatio Hornblower getup.  I got the feeling he really didn't
recognize us sitting there saluting him.  He turned and waved to
people on the other side of the street, never changing expression at
all as he swiveled back and forth in front of his big spoked wheel.
We laughed a lot at Jack's expense after the float passed us by,
fueled perhaps by the berry wine.  We sat back and enjoyed the rest
of the parade, watching the other floats rumble by, interspersed with
local high school marching bands putting on their displays.  We
jumped up and cheered when the UF marching band came strutting down
the street, blasting out the UF fight song, "Orange and Blue."  As
the last float rolled by, we joined the thousands of others who
filled the street, following the parade until it rolled into the
stadium.

Later that night, the six of us crammed into Florida Field for the
giant Homecoming pep rally, called the Gator Growl.  We were joined
by 72,000 of our closest friends in the newly renovated and expanded
stadium.  The festivities went on for hours, led by Albert and
Alberta, the Gator mascots.  The school always managed to bring in a
big name from the entertainment world for Gator Growl, and the
headliner for the evening was Bob Hope.  I was thinking he was kind
of old-fashioned for a college crowd like us, but he worked the
stadium like the old pro he was.  By about the fourth or fifth joke
in his routine, he had us on our feet, stomping and clapping and
laughing.

I should have expected it, actually.  It should have been obvious to
me that Hope loved college football.  Why else would he host the
College Football All-American show every year on television?  And
that observation was confirmed that night as he welcomed each starter
on the team up to the stage, and had a joke prepared for each one.

When Dantrell Sinclair was introduced, for instance, Hope said,
"Dantrell Sinclair, a junior halfback.  That's not to say he's a
junior, as in lightweight.  Look at those arms!"  Hope gave one of
his classic pauses, and then continued.  "Dantrell is fast, too.  In
fact, when I asked him how fast he ran, he told me he was so fast, he
had already played in tomorrow's game!"

As Lamarr Elliott stepped up to stand next to him, Hope gave him one
of his patented stares, looking up at Lamarr as he towered over the
comedian.  "The University of Florida has 30,000 full-time students,"
Hope said into the microphone.  "Lamarr is one of the reasons they
buy enough food for 34,000."

At the end of his show, the football team took the stage once again,
lining up behind the comedian, and off behind the stadium, fireworks
were set off across Lake Alice in a display to rival the Fourth of
July.

By the time the show ended, I was hoarse, deaf, and half-blinded by
the fireworks.  Reggie and I held hands as we shuffled out, flowing
with the tide of students out of the stadium, so that we wouldn't
lose each other in the crush.  Once we got out onto the street, we
stepped aside and waited for Jesse, Brittany, Bryan, and Melanie.

Once we all found each other again, I said, "Where to now?"  I was
too pumped up to want to just go back to my dorm room.

"Party at Jeremy's place?" suggested Bryan.  Jeremy Peters, one of
our midfielders, lived in an apartment with three of his fraternity
brothers.

"Sure," said Jesse.  "Sounds good.  That work for you, Seanster?"

I looked at Reggie, and saw agreement in her shining eyes.  "It
works," I said.

It was already kind of late, but we were all pretty wired from the
rally.  I wanted to stay out late and have a good time with my
friends.  The Homecoming game was in the afternoon, and I had to work
the gift shop the first half, but that was okay.  We were playing at
home on Sunday, so there wasn't any real pressure to get to bed early
on this night.

Reggie and I held hands and skipped down the sidewalk, feeling silly
and free.  Jesse and Bryan were laughing at us, and I could hear
Brittany giggling.  Melanie looked amused, but there was something
else in her expression I couldn't put my finger on.  I really didn't
care, though, and I wasn't going to let her spoil our exuberant mood.
Reggie and I outpaced them by about a block, and then waited for them
at the next corner.  The two of us were practically hopping around as
we waited, and as soon as the group caught up to us, we skipped off
again, leaving them behind to wallow in the echoes of our laughter.

On the last street corner, Reggie and I waited for the group, and we
all walked the last half-block together to Jeremy's apartment
building.  Jeremy and his roommates lived on the second floor, and we
climbed the wooden staircase that had been tacked onto the outside of
the yellow frame house, to the plain wooden door.  I had to look
twice to make sure the heavy bass beat pounding from inside the
apartment wasn't rattling the door in its frame, and I opened it and
was almost forced backwards by the wall of sound.  I held Reggie's
hand and forced my way into the apartment, and into the crowd already
there.

It was very warm in the apartment from all the hot, sweaty student
bodies crammed into the place.  There were a couple of window air
conditioners struggling to cool the air, but with the door constantly
opening and closing, and with all the people moving about, the poor
little units just couldn't keep up.  The door opened into the main
living room area.  Through the crowd I could see bright light
spilling from another room, and there was a second dim room ahead of
us, which I assumed was a dining room or, more likely, a television
room for the guys who lived there.

Our group kind of split up and found friends and acquaintances to
greet.  Many of the guys were teammates of ours, there with their
dates, and it was kind of cool to see everybody on a social basis,
and on their good behavior.  As Reggie and I made our way deeper into
the apartment, I was surprised to see Westy there, along with Jason
Emerson, the kid who lived across the hall from us in the dorm.  They
both had girls standing with them.  Westy saw me at the same time I
spied him, and before I could turn away, he was waving us over to
where he and Jason were standing.

"Yo, dude, what are you doing here?" shouted Westy over the music.

"Jeremy's a teammate," I said.

"No shit?  I didn't even know he was on the team."

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"All the guys who live here are Sig Taus," he replied.

Well, there you go, I thought.  I didn't even know Jeremy belonged
to a fraternity, much less the same one my roomie had pledged.  Small
fucking world.

Westy suddenly remembered his manners, and he turned to his date, a
short and busty brunette with big, thick glasses.  "Yo, Sean, this is
my date, Angelina Turner.  Angelina, this is Sean Porter, my
roommate."

"Pleased ta meetcha," said Angelina, thrusting out her hand.  She
had a twangy New Jersey accent that immediately grated on me.  I
silently asked myself, 'Why am I surprised Westy found somebody
irritating?  It really shouldn't come as much of a shock.'

I introduced Reggie to the group, and Jason introduced his date, who
was apparently Angelina's roommate.  She was a very large girl with
the unlikely name of Kitten Springerdale.  She was hanging on to
Jason's arm as if it was a turkey leg and she hadn't eaten in three
days.  The poor guy was hopelessly lost.  She had to outweigh him by
a good thirty pounds, and she wasn't about to let go of her prize for
the evening.  I could see the amusement on Reggie's face as she
watched the two of them, but she was much too polite to say anything.
I, on the other hand, had no such qualms.

"So, Kitten, are you and Jason enjoying yourselves?" I asked.

Kitten squeezed Jason's arm even tighter to her bosom, and Jason's
face got even redder from the pressure.

"Oh, it's so wonderful," she gushed.  "The... what do they call it,
Jason?"  She turned her flushed face to him, but just as he was about
to answer, she turned back to us.  "Gator Growl?  That's right, Gator
Growl, it was just so exciting, wasn't it?  Wasn't Bob Hope just the
most fun?"  The inflection of her voice rose with each syllable,
until it screeched almost into the ultrasonic.  It was nearly enough
to set my teeth to itching.

"We'll catch up to you later," I hurriedly said, backing away from
Kitten's screech and Westy's leers that were directed at Reggie.
"We're off to find where the bar is set up."

Jason tried to turn and point in the direction of the kitchen, where
the brighter light was spilling through a doorway, but his movement
was limited by what Kitten would allow.  We got the idea anyway, and
beat a hasty retreat in that direction.

We found Jeremy in the kitchen with Spencer and his date, Cynthia
Yamamoto, a girl from Sacramento he had been seeing since the
beginning of the school year.  Cyn had been an exceptional gymnast
all her life, but she got too burned out on it to continue beyond
high school.  She was trim and incredibly strong for such a small
girl, with long, silky black hair that nearly reached her waist, and
she had a perpetual smile.  Just being around her tended to cheer me
up, no matter what my mood, because of her upbeat nature.

Jeremy was acting as bartender, and he was really into his duties.
He even was wearing a bowler hat and a long-sleeved shirt with
garters on his upper arms.  He must have been dying, though, in long
sleeves, as there was a high sheen of perspiration on his flushed
face as he moved around, filling plastic cups with ice and sodas, or
beer.

He paused just long enough to recognize me.  He gave Reggie an
appreciative once-over.  "What'll ya have, there, pardner?" he asked
with a smile, turning his attention back to me.

I looked around, pretending confusion.  "Did we suddenly get
transported to the University of the Old West?" I asked.

Jeremy leaned over the long folding table that made up his makeshift
bar, saying to Reggie, "This young man seems to be a mite... tetched,
if you pardon me saying so.  Is he a suitor of yours, ma'am?"

Reggie laughed and blushed.  She held her hand to her cheek as she
answered, "Why no, sir.  He's just been following me around like a
little lost pup."

Jeremy waggled his eyebrows at her.  "Well, maybe I should jest he'p
you find a home for this little lost pup, and then you and I could go
spoonin'.  What d'you say, there, cutie?"

"Spooning?" I asked.  "Do you really know what spooning is?"

Jeremy, not taking his eyes off Reggie, said, "I know what it means
today, champ."

Reggie blushed even more furiously and took a step back.  Apparently
she, too, knew its current meaning.

"Hey!" I said.  "That's my date you're making suggestive remarks to,
barkeep."

It was enough to break the spell.  Jeremy looked embarrassed as he
stood up and resumed his duties.  "Oh, yeah," he mumbled by way of
apology.  "Sorry.  I just got a little carried away there for a
moment."  He glanced back over at Reggie.  "It's just that she's way
too cute for a homely, skinny soccer dude like you, Porter."

"Oh, I don't think he's too skinny," said Reggie with a smile.
"He's really kind of hunky, if you ask me."

"Well, if you're back on duty, how about drawing us a couple of
beers?" I said.  Reggie stepped closer to me and took my arm and
swung it over her head to rest on her shoulder.  She held onto my
hand as it draped over her while we waited for Jeremy to put heads on
our plastic glasses of beer from the iced keg on the floor behind
him.  He handed them to us with a flourish and a bow, and turned to
help the next people beginning to crowd the table.

Reggie and I turned and joined Cyn and Spence, who had watched the
entire interaction from the corner of the kitchen.

"I think he likes you," Cyn said to Reggie.

Reggie glanced back at Jeremy, now completely involved in handing
out drinks to the crowd.  "I just think he likes flirting," she said.
She leaned in toward Cyn and said in a stage whisper, "Jocks.
They're all the same."

"Hey!" said Spencer.  "I resemble that remark!"

We all laughed at that, and the four of us headed out to brave the
maelstrom of the party.

Reggie and I circulated, greeting friends, teammates, and
acquaintances.  Reggie knew a few people, mostly friends of Bryan and
Melanie, and I introduced her to the rest of my teammates who were
there.  It was interesting to see so many of the guys I only knew on
the soccer field in a more relaxed setting.  Most of them had dates,
but a few of them came to the party in a group.  There were a lot of
Sig Taus there, too, that I didn't know.  Jeremy or Westy introduced
us to a bunch, but, as usual, most of the names just slid off me.
There were too many new faces, too many new names, for me to ever
hope to recall.  I suspected Reggie felt the same way, though she
seemed to be a lot better at putting names to faces than I was.

We made small circles around the apartment, always with the kitchen
bar as our focal point so we could refill often.  I didn't want to
get shitfaced like I had at LaShonda and Amari's party, but I wasn't
averse to trying to maintain a happy comportment.  Reggie, too, was
willing to imbibe, and was feeling little pain.  As we refilled, she
would hold onto my arm in a friendly manner, and as the night
progressed she kept on either holding my arm or holding my hand,
always keeping track of me.  I enjoyed the attention, even if I did
feel a little guilty about it.

I also found myself gauging many of the girls at the party, in
typical college boy fashion, until it occurred to me that I had a
bona fide, one hundred percent female hottie at my side.  I then
began a more critical study of the girls, and discovered, almost to
my astonishment, that most of them paled in comparison to my own
date.  Melanie, one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen, was
certainly the most attractive at the party; an argument could be made
that she was the most beautiful on campus, and maybe even in the
state of Florida, for that matter.  And, to be honest, there were a
couple of other girls who were very easy to look at, here at Jeremy's
party, but Regina Coverdale could compare favorably with nearly any
of them.

And here she was, holding my hand.  I could feel myself puffing up
with beer-soaked pride.  Jesus, get a grip, Porter, I reminded
myself.  Remember Elvis?  Remember Kayla?  And don't forget that
Reggie certainly remembers both of them, so keep it platonic, you
untrustworthy and lecherous fool.

It wasn't much help, however.  Elvis wasn't in the house, and Kayla
was a thousand miles away, and the quite delectable Regina was by my
side.  It was all very ego-inflating, even if it was all innocence.

We had been there for quite awhile, and I was in the television
room, perched on a windowsill talking with Dan Ortega and Brad
Rickman.  Reggie, Melanie and a couple of other girls were on a
bathroom break, holding spots in line for each other in a back
hallway.  Jason sidled up to me, and he was alone, one of the few
times all night I had seen him Kitten-less.

He leaned close to me and whispered, "Dude, we got a thing going on.
C'mere, take a look."

He motioned for me to follow him, and he led me out the door and
down the stairs.

"Where are we going?" I asked, but he just shushed me.  He led me up
the driveway to the back of the house, into the dark back yard.  I
could just make out a few people standing around on the grass.

Jason took me by the arm and said quietly, "Got a chick over there
on a blanket, pulling a train.  She's taking on anybody who wants a
ride."

"What?  What are you talking about?"  I thought I knew, but I
couldn't believe it.

"Cunt's giving it away, dude.  Get in line, hop on, get your rocks
off.  I've already done her, and Westy's banging her right now."  He
was a shadow standing next to me.  "Get over there before she gets
too sloppy, Sean."

"Ugh.  I don't think so," I said.  I pulled away and headed back
toward the side of the house.

"Okay, your loss, dude," I heard him say.  "Me, I'm going back to
rip off another piece."

What kind of girl would allow something like that to happen? I asked
myself.  I couldn't even imagine what would be going through her
mind.  Alcohol does funny things to some people.  Or maybe it was
drugs.  It was a college party, after all.  Anything was possible.  I
shivered, despite the warm night.  Even thinking about the scene gave
me the creeps.

I got upstairs and saw Kitten and Angelina walking together, looking
around for their dates.  I was tempted to go over to them and let
them know where the boys were, but I thought better of it.  Leave
well enough alone, Porter.  It's not your place to try to fix the
world.

I found Reggie, along with Melanie and Brittany, in the kitchen,
getting refills.  I walked up and put my arm around Reggie.  She
hadn't seen me coming up to her, and I caught her by surprise, but
she looked up at me, smiled, and relaxed a little against me,
comfortable with my arm around her.  Her presence comforted me, too,
after seeing what was going on in the back yard.

Maybe an hour later, I saw Kitten and Jason leaving the party.
Kitten was in tears, and Jason looked like he was in pain.  I didn't
see Westy or Angelina anywhere around.

By about three in the morning, I was getting tired, and the crowd at
the party was beginning to thin out.  Spencer and Cyn had already
left for parts unknown, and Jesse and Brittany were saying their
goodbyes.  I looked at Reggie, and she just nodded, instinctively
knowing what I was asking.  We made one last trip to the kitchen to
say goodnight to Jeremy, but he had long since abandoned his post,
and we never did find him.  We caught up with Jesse and Brit as they
were leaving, and we walked down the flight of stairs with them, out
into the warm Florida night.  I couldn't help but glance back toward
the garage, but I didn't see anybody there.  That particular party
must have concluded.

The four of us walked comfortably down the sidewalk, each couple
holding hands.  Reggie and I were swinging our arms in big, loopy
arcs as we walked, just happy to be with each other.  Even though I
had to work the first half of the football game, we had made plans to
meet up and sit together with our friends during the second half, and
I found myself looking forward to spending another afternoon with her.

We split off when we got to University Avenue.  With the girls
promising to find each other at the student entrance to the stadium
before the game, Jesse and Brit turned and walked off in the
direction of Jesse's apartment, and Reggie and I crossed over to
campus, toward our dorms.

We got to the front door of Reggie's dorm, and I suddenly found I
didn't want the night to end.  I was enjoying myself with her, and I
got the feeling she, too, was having a good time.  We stood close
together, whispering to each other, keeping to the shadows by the
hedges that lined the front of her dorm building.  There were other
couples around us, sitting on the lawn or standing beneath a tree,
and a few other kids were lounging around the doorways of the big
brick building.

Finally, we ran out of things to say.  We were standing there, still
close together, but I was suddenly a little uncomfortable about how
to end the night.  A handshake?  Too insulting.  A hug?  Maybe, if I
pretended I was hugging my sister.  Disconnected thoughts kept on
jittering and bouncing within my typically empty skull.  I realized
Reggie was shifting around, too.  Perhaps she was thinking the same
thoughts.  My hands were sweaty, and I was getting nervous.

 From out of the gloom nearby, I heard a male voice.  "Fer Chrissake,
just kiss the lady, would ya?"

There was a tittering of laughter from all around us as I swiveled
my head around, too aware of all the people nearby, now watching us.
I put my arms around Reggie to draw her to me, and she lifted her
arms and put them around my neck, lifting herself up to me.  We
kissed goodnight softly, tenderly.  I felt her lips moving against
mine as we made our tiny adjustments, aligning ourselves against each
other, and the kiss became a lot less platonic.  By the time we broke
apart, we were both a little out of breath.  Reggie's eyes were wide
and surprised, and I was positive her expression was a mirror of my
own.

Her eyes dropped, and she let go of me.  She seemed flustered, and I
certainly felt that way.  What had happened to us tonight?

"I'd better go in," she whispered.  She glanced up at me, smiled,
and stood up on her toes and gave me a much more sisterly and quick
kiss on my lips.  She practically skipped off, turning just once more
before she disappeared into the doorway to give me a quick wave.

I walked slowly back toward my own dorm, my head swirling with
thoughts and memories of the evening.  I knew it would be a long,
long time before I would be able to find sleep that night.