The Competitive Edge Playing The Game IIIChapter 41 Tournament Time
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The Competitive Edge: Playing The Game IIIChapter 23: Rebuilding free porn video
My friends left early on Monday morning. As much as I liked Trent and Eric, and as much as I enjoyed their visit, I was glad to watch them pull out of the parking lot and head back out of town. I didn't think I could take another day of intervention and intoxication. As it was, I wanted nothing more than to grab some breakfast, and then go back to my rack and bag some more sleep.
Their efforts were not in vain. They had opened my eyes to the obnoxious and irresponsible way I had been acting, and I owed everybody involved in the weekend's activities a huge debt. I vowed I would not forget it.
I climbed back into bed and slept for three more hours, feeling much better than I had any right to feel when I woke up. I was energized and ready to get to work. I called Eddie Whitehead and arranged to meet him to watch the film of the kid from California, and then I got busy with my own homework.
Later that day, Eddie and I watched the first of several films of Harlan Lightfine, the midfielder from Simi Valley, California. He had led his team into the state tournament three years in a row, and he also played on an elite club team based in West L.A. We had a lot of evidence of his skills at hand, but it was obvious, after watching some of his games, his greatest attribute was his speed with the ball. I couldn't remember seeing anyone run with the ball in control with anything approaching Harlan's quickness, not even Eric Johnson. I quickly began to think of him as Lightspeed instead of Harlan Lightfine. He was going to bring a whole new dimension to the Gators soccer program, and I was really looking forward to seeing what we could become.
Over the next three weeks, I adjusted to the routine. I studied hard, determined to keep my grades up. I worked with Eddie many afternoons, and I practiced with the team every day except Sundays. I did my best to keep my head down, concentrating on doing what needed to be done.
It was a hard lesson, but I hoped it was one I had learned well. The last thing I wanted to do was disappoint anybody ever again. I had lived my miserable life disappointed in myself for many months, and now that my friends had put me back on the road, I struggled against my natural inclination to bury my head in the sand. I wanted to stay the course, and I worked hard to overcome what I knew, better than anyone else, were my most serious flaws of character and judgment.
About a week after Trent and Eric left, I got my first letter from Kayla. I opened it with trepidation, but no poison gases emanated from it. I held the few pages of paper gingerly. She had apparently written to me in her spiral notebook and then torn the pages out. She trimmed the frayed paper with scissors, and the pages were covered with her feminine, lovely handwriting.
She wrote of mundane, everyday things around school and her house, and it made my heart ache with sadness. She carefully avoided mentioning anything about my past idiocy - idiocies? - and the tone of her letter was deliberately neutral.
I read it three times in a row, and put it carefully in my desk drawer for safekeeping. I pulled out a spiral notebook of my own, and I began my letter back to her. I tried to keep my tone as careful as she had been, and several times I had to scratch out sentences and phrases that reeked of the pitiable fool I had become. I kept at it, though, until I had a reasonably coherent reply. I read it over several times, making minor revisions, until I was satisfied it didn't sound too awful. I copied it onto fresh sheets, tore them out, and I trimmed the edge with scissors, just like Kayla had done. I knew she would notice I had used the same kind of paper as she had. It was something I knew she would see right away, and it felt like the right thing to do. I dropped it into the outgoing mail slot in the lobby of my dorm, less than twenty-four hours after I had gotten her letter.
Another bridge to rebuild. I had a lot of them, and each one required a lot of work. I hoped I had the stamina to bring it all off.
A couple of weeks later, we were in the showers after a long practice. We were leaving the next day to head over to a weekend tournament in Jacksonville, and Pick had been working us pretty hard all week to prepare for it.
"Hey, Porter." Jesse's voice came to me through the steam in the shower room.
"Yeah?"
"Have you got your summer clinics set up yet?"
Oh, shit. I had not done anything about them at all. Would my clinics still be a draw? "No," I admitted. "I'd better see if there's still interest. I'll drop a note to Danielle. She's got the lists from the last couple of years."
"You were talking last year of expanding. You still gonna do it?"
"Yeah, I guess I'd like to, if there's a demand." I looked around. "Spence? You still in here?"
"Over here," he replied. I had shampoo in my eyes, and couldn't see a thing. His voice came from my other side.
"What do you think about working the clinics again this summer?"
"I just assumed you were going to run them," he said. "I was planning on working them."
It struck me that my problems were just that: they were mine. They didn't extend too far beyond me, and didn't affect the kids I had been working with at all. It was a struggle for me to look beyond my own insecurities and shortcomings, and Spencer's simple declaration blindsided me with the realization that others didn't necessarily share my internal agonies.
"Okay, then," I said. I turned my face into the water, washing away the soap and the tears that were forming. "I guess I'm running the clinics."
Jesse's voice was closer. I glanced over, now that I had washed out my eyes and could see again, and he was standing in the middle of the floor, away from the spray from the showerheads. He had his towel wrapped around his waist. "You want some help?"
"Sure," I said. I was startled by his offer, though. "Aren't you going back to the U-Twenty National Team?"
Jesse chuckled. "I would if I could, dude," he said. "But I'm twenty- one now."
"Damn, that's right," I said. "Why don't you try out for the big one? Go for a spot on the National Team."
"Not good enough," he said. "Hell, even for the U-Twenty team I was only a role player. Split my time with three other guys. It was a great experience, but I know I can't take it to the next level yet."
"Shit, if you can't make it, there would be absolutely no hope for me," I said. "Not that I had even considered it."
Jesse looked at me. "You'd make the U-Twenty team if you worked hard and did a little campaigning," he said. "And knowing you, you'd make the most of the opportunity. But I think you're doing a lot more good running your clinics."
"It is a lot of fun," said Spencer.
I grinned. "Yeah, it is," I agreed. "There's something about watching a kid's skills improve, and watching them realize it."
I turned the shower off and reached for my towel. The three of us stepped carefully out of the showers to our lockers.
"So, your reputation precedes you," said Jesse. "You're already a popular teacher in your area. You want to expand?"
"To down by you?" I asked.
"Sure," he said. "We'll use your name and structure, I'll run the clinics just like you're doing up north, and the combined draw of Sean Porter Clinics and Jesse Wilhoit instruction ought to bring 'em in."
"Sounds good to me," I said. I began to get dressed, my mind working on the logistics of getting my organization set up for Jesse in his hometown. I had to write to Danielle right away, so we could get moving on it. Spencer would be available again, and Eric, and Trent. I had to call Posey Smith, and get in touch with Weasel, and...
So little time, so much to do.
I ended up having to burn up some of my money I earned working for Pick and Eddie on long-distance calls to Danielle, Trent, Eric, and Posey. I figured I would see Weasel and Jorge Mendoza when I got home. I would be home almost a month before they got out of high school, time enough to get my staff organized and the clinics advertised.
When I called Danielle, she surprised me.
"I got a couple of interesting letters a couple of weeks ago, Sean," she said.
That statement worried me. Who wrote to her about me? Kayla? Mrs. Lehigh?
"Okay, I'm ready," I said, even though I really wasn't. "Who from?"
I could almost hear her smile at my discomfort. "AYSO groups in Merrillville, Indiana, and South Bend."
"Really? What did they want?"
"They want Sean Porter clinics," she said.
"What? You're kidding."
"Nope. They've been organizing, and Merrillville already has signups for about forty kids each in three different age groups."
"Wow, that's amazing," I said. "How did they find out about us?"
"Apparently the word got around at the regional AYSO meetings," said Danielle. "The officers from our own organization really talked up the benefits."
"And you said South Bend, too?"
"Yes, can you believe it?"
"Isn't that where Notre Dame is? They've got a great team there. Why didn't they just get a couple of those players to run clinics?"
"Like I said, the word is out. The Sean Porter clinics are the hot item now, so they contacted me." Danielle paused, and then said, "Sean, are you thinking about expanding, like we talked about last summer?"
"Well, Jesse wants to run a version in his hometown, and if we're being asked to come into Indiana, I guess we might as well. Will you have time to work on it?"
She laughed. "I already am, boss."
"You anticipated me, didn't you? You are a tricky lass, Dani."
"Oh, I had a feeling you wouldn't mind taking on a few more cities," she said. "You're too ambitious to turn down opportunities that come your way."
That was the first time I could recall ever being described as ambitious. I didn't quite know what to think of it, even though I knew Danielle didn't mean it at all negatively.
"Well..." I was trying to formulate a response.
"Don't worry about it, Sean," she said with a chuckle. "I'll handle it. You just have to find your instructors."
Oh, is that all? Where was I going to find instructors in Merrillville and South Bend?
Jesse and Spencer tried to get me to go out with them most weekends, but I begged off most of the time. Jesse had Brittany, and Bryan had Melanie. Spencer was dating a couple of girls, but I just didn't want the complication. Plus, I got to feeling like the odd man out too often. I was just more comfortable sitting in my dorm room or weaving around campus with my soccer ball.
Makenna
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