|
Slam Dunks Not Allowed By Dan Bylsma and Jay M. Bylsma Copyright 2001. All rights reserved In Production by River Road Publications Hard cover $15.95
|
|
CHAPTER SEVEN (Partial) |
|
The Pep Assembly |
|
The buzz in the gym grew louder as more and more of the students found their way into the gym and onto seats on the bleachers. By custom, the seniors sat mostly in best seats in the lower middle sections and the freshmen, being the low-lifes in the high school social order were relegated to the upper tier of bleacher seats and those on the far ends. The members of the 1944/45 team had been instructed to assemble in Coach Coors’ physics room to be individually announced at the appropriate time. The cheerleading squad had changed into their uniforms, which were new this year thanks to some very enterprising work by their mothers. Led by Casey’s mom, they had begged borrowed or stole enough white yarn to knit sweaters and enough muslin to make the short pleated skirts that had become stylish – for cheerleaders. In any other circumstance a girl wouldn’t – couldn’t think of wearing a skirt that exposed even the bottom of her knees, but for cheerleading…well, it was considered a uniform. These short skirts were a big hit with the student body, especially the guys. But they were only worn over the objection of Miss Grace Addison, the elderly English teacher and dean of women who saw herself as the guardian of the morals of the school, especially its girls. To her view, one of the side effects of the War that was worse than rationing sugar was the permissiveness it brought. She was particularly horrified at the number of young women, some still in high school, others barely out who ran off to get married to a departing soldier/lover who had a two week furlough before being shipped off to the far corners of the world to be shot at or shot up or worse. These romances were often begun in high school by starry eyed young women, no more than little girls in her view, whose silly head had been turned by the sight of a boy in a uniform or some such patriotic nonsense. She held herself to a much higher standard she was proud to say and say it often. Through her efforts the school had adopted the PDA policy. There was to be no Public Displays of Affection on the school grounds. To the delight of the students, she was the only teacher with enough conviction in the rule to put teeth into it, so couples were careful not to hold hands when and where Miss Addison was likely to catch them. As the cheerleaders warmed up the students, the sight of these young women in their shameful short skirts was enough to make her blood boil. But she could tell by the amused look (or was that a leer) on Principal Babcock’s face any protests would be futile.
"WE ARE THE PIRATES, THE MIGHTY, MIGHTY PIRATES EVERY WHERE WE GO-O, PEOPLE WANT TO KNOW-O WHO-O WE ARE-ER. SO-O WE TELL 'EM WE ARE THE PIRATES, THE MIGHTY, MIGHTY PIRATES EVERY WHERE WE GO-O, PEOPLE WANT TO KNOW-O WHO-O WE ARE-ER. SO-O WE TELL 'EM WE ARE THE PIRATES, THE MIGHTY, MIGHTY PIRATES EVERY WHERE WE GO-O, PEOPLE WANT TO KNOW-O WHO-O WE ARE-ER. SO-O WE TELL 'EM"
With each successive chorus, the cheerleaders urged the students to become louder until the gym windows around the balcony fairly rattled. Then Casey, their captain, signaled the end by two forward somersaults accompanied by a lot of stiff-legged jumps by her teammates. Then when the last echoes of that cheer died down, she alone addressed the students. In a clear, ringing voice she cried, “Two Bits. Four Bits. Six Bits. A Dollar! If you’re for the Pirates, stand up and holler!” And as if they were connected, the students and the teaching staff rose as one and with one fist in the air roared, “YEAH”. All except Miss Addison who registered her displeasure at what she considered a vulgar display of legs when Casey had executed the somersaults by remaining seated. There was no mistaking the look on her face. She thought this whole display transcended the bounds of decency by at least the length of the gym. At that, Principal Babcock rose and walked a few steps to a podium that had been placed a few feet from the front row of the bleachers. When the crowd became quiet he began. “As an educator, and one who’s dedicated most of his now considerable adult life to the education of students, it is heartwarming to see you at least as excited about your basketball team as I know you all are about your studies.” He paused as the students responded with a hearty laugh. “We’re here to introduce the young men who will represent us on the basketball courts for the 1944 – 1945 season. As one who has been following some of these fine court men since they were freshmen, I am excited about the possibility of winning another league championship, aren’t you?” The crowd responded with a roar of approval. “I beg your pardon, I don’t believe I heard you?” An even louder yell arose from the crowd. “I take that as a yes,” the principal said beaming at his ability to rally the crowd. “To introduce this year’s team and give us a preview of what we can expect from them this year, I’ve asked Coach Coors to say a few words and introduce the team to you. Coach Coors?” The team was in the physics room, some of them (mostly Woody) were pacing the floor. Others like Dutchie and Scooter were old hands at this and sat on the edge of the presentation table and waited patiently. They could hear this year’s cheerleading squad being introduced. Presently one of the cheerleaders, Lois Webber who everyone called “Webb”, knocked on the door, opened it and stuck her head in the door. She had to stop giggling to speak to them. “You guys should come out and stand at the edge of the gym door.” She was grinning like the cat that swallowed the goldfish. “Then when Coach Coors calls your name, go out and stand behind him in front of the chairs that are set up – there’s one for each of you. Wait until you’re all introduced then sit down,” she tittered. The team followed her out the door. Scooter and Woody were the last to follow. “What could be so funny?” Scooter whispered. “Webb’s got a bad case of the grins and giggles.” “She acts guilty if you ask me,” Woody observed. One by one, Coach Coors announced the members of the team. For the veterans, he would start by saying “This next player…” and then would point out their contributions in past years: games played, points scored, and an anecdote or two about each one. Then he would say something like, “Please join me in welcoming to this year’s team – JACOB MERRILL!” and Jake would run into the gym under an arch formed by the cheerleaders extending their pompoms to the applause and cheers of the crowd. Woody wondered what Coach Coors would or could say about him. But the coach said nice things like “hard worker”, “outstanding knowledge of the game”, and “good strategist” before he said, “WOODROW NELSON!” Woody ran under the arch being careful not to trip and fall. As he ran past the cheerleaders, they all looked guilty of something. When all the players were announced, Coach Coors told them to be seated and turned the program over to Mr. Thoma who was the teacher in charge of the Saturday Night Club and a lot of the social activities of the school. Mr. Thoma was carrying an armful of black cloths. “Good afternoon students. As you know, the players who have won the honor of representing the school on the basketball team have been selected for a number of skills they possess. Some of them are outstanding shooters, some are good ball handlers, some are fast, some are tall. All of them are very perceptive young men. Well, the cheerleaders and I have designed a little test here, we’re going to find out just how perceptive they really are. Girls if you will come forward.” Woody watched them as they walked passed him toward Mr. Thoma. They were all giggling and tee-heeing like a bunch of 9th graders going to a dance with ants in their pants, he thought. “What we're going to do,” Mr. Thoma continued, “is blindfold each member of the team… girls if you will take a blind fold each and help me here…” Each cheerleader took a blindfold and they blindfolded the members of the team. “Now, we’re going to ask one of these very lovely cheerleaders to plant a kiss on a player…” The ooos and aaahs and the wolf whistle here and there that came out of the crowd covered up the gasp that came out of Miss Grace Addison before she could cover her mouth with her hands in shock and dismay. “This is outrageous behavior and I’ll not stand for it,” she hissed into the principal’s ear. “I quite agree, Miss Addison. Please take notes and we’ll decide who and how to punish these miscreants after the event. But for the moment, I’m rather enjoying this,” the principal whispered back - to her horror. “… and see if that player can guess which lovely lady kissed him,” Mr. Thoma said when the crowd quieted down. “Are all the blindfolds in place ladies? We’ll start on the end here with David Berilla. David, if you’ll stand up here…” Chappie slowly got to his feet. The students were screaming and whooping it up again. “Hands behind your back, David. That’s it, now lean forward just a bit.” The crowd quieted for a moment. What Chappie and the rest of the blindfolded players didn’t know was in all the screaming and howling, their mothers had been brought into the gym to do the kissing. Mrs. Berilla quietly stepped forward and gave Chappie a real smooch. By his expression, the students could tell he got more than the peck on the cheek he expected. “Well, David. What’s your guess. Who was the lovely lady that kissed you?” Mr. Thoma asked. Chappie thought for a moment, shrugged his shoulders and finally said, “Abbie Smith.” The students roared with laughter. To Chappie, that meant he had obviously guessed wrong. “Would you like to see if you were right?” Mr. Thoma asked. “Yes.” “Would it matter to you? After all these young woman are rather fetching don’t you agree?” “Well, no.. er, yes, I mean…” and he just hung his head. “Okay, David. You may take off your blindfold but don’t give any of your teammates any help. They need to guess for themselves.” When Chappie took off his blindfold to see he had just been kissed by his mother, his look of astonishment and, well – horror - brought another roar from the crowd. The principal leaned over to Miss Grace Addison and whispered. “I think we ought to keep Mrs. Berilla after school for at least an hour for that public display of affection. Would that please you, Miss Addison?” She only harrumphed in reply. “Marvin Peters, you’re next,” Mr. Thoma said. Marv sprang to his feet as if he couldn’t wait for the smooching to start. That brought another roar from the crowd. “Okay, Marv, hands behind your back Lean forward… that’s it… pucker up…” at which point Mrs. Peters got into the spirit of the ruse and put her hands on Marv’s shoulders and pulled him forward and kissed him good to the sheer delight and the hoots and howls of the crowd. “Well, Marv. Would you like to venture a guess as to which one of our lovely ladies that might have been?” “Ah…” Marv hesitated. “I think I know who it was but I could be more certain if I had another kiss, just to be sure I was right.” The students roared again. Mrs. Peters didn’t hesitate and this time there was no doubt Marv was kissing back. And that got the crowd shouting and whistling. “Well, Marv. You’ve had two tries at it. What’s your guess?” “Ginger Vanden Berg?” he responded to the delight of the crowd. The look on Marv’s face when he took his blindfold off was even more amusing to see than on Chappie’s. And the students were loving it. And so it went from player to player, each one guessing this cheerleader or that when in fact it was the player’s mother who had planted a big ol’ smootch on him and at each kiss and at each guess and each revelation the crowd hooted and whistled. Scooter guessed it was Casey because he didn’t think Casey would let any of the other girls kiss him and because he thought she might be a little sore if he guessed some one else. He was just as shocked and dismayed as the rest of the players to learn he had been smootched by his mother. Woody was the last player in the line. He was puzzled. He couldn’t figure out what was so funny and he thought he remembered the cheerleaders were all wearing the white gym shoes of their uniforms and yet the footsteps he heard on the wooden floor were those made by street shoes. “Woodrow, there have been all kinds of guesses and they’ve all been wrong. You’re known to be a very perceptive student…” That’s odd, Woody thought. There were only six cheerleaders and nine players had guessed and no one got it right? What were the odds of that happening. Each player had a one in six chance of guessing right, and nine wrong answers? The odds of that were 56 to 1 he figured. Strange, very strange. “… so perhaps you can guess which of these pretty ladies will be kissing you.” He felt someone touch his elbow and prod him to his feet. Woody wondered why Mr. Thoma kept calling them pretty ladies. They were just girls after all. That was odd too. “Hands behind your back, Woodrow. Pucker up now.” Woody hoped it would be Evie TenCate. He thought she was the cutest but he probably wouldn’t be that lucky and then the lips pressed against his. Not too long, but long enough. They were soft lips and he licked his lips… and tasted - lipstick. Which one of the girls wore lipstick? And he got a whiff of her perfume. It was Deep Secret, like his mother wore… like his mother wore? And lipstick? Street shoes? “Well Woodrow, which one of these pretty ladies do you think planted that very tender kiss on you?” Geeeeee willikers, Woody thought. It had to be. Their mothers were all ladies, not girls. The lipstick, the perfume, the street shoes, the 56 to one odds, and he remembered that all the cheerleaders were tee-heeing and giggling like they were guilty of something. They were in on the secret. Besides, ol’ lady Addled-Daughter (as he called Miss Addison) wouldn’t allow this much fun to be had with kissing. “I think it’s Sarah,” he said in a soft I’m-not-exactly-sure-of-this voice in case he was wrong. “Sarah?” Mr. Thoma said as if he was puzzled. “Woodrow, we don’t have a cheerleader named Sarah.” “My mother’s name is Sarah,” he said more confident than ever he was right. The crowd was quiet at first – then someone yelled “Way to go, Woody,” and the crowd broke into applause. “Well, Woodrow, take off that blindfold and see,” Mr. Thoma said, grateful Woodrow Nelson had been the last player to have been kissed by his mother and not the first.
|