Tiger Moths (8 page)

“I would love that, Laura. We have a new associate pastor, Mike Parker. I think you will like him. He has a way of talking about the gospel that really brings it to life.”

The two held each other, both laughing and crying in the moment. Finally Arthur jumped back on the couch and reminded them that it was well past his feed time. Laura brushed away a tear and ran her hand down his back. “You are so right, boy. How about I get us all something to eat?”

“Sounds good,” Dale said.

As Laura made her way to the kitchen the phone rang. Dale walked to the table and picked it up. It was probably Paul again wanting to talk about the case.

“Hello.”

An older man spoke. “Is this Dale Grayson?”

“Yes, it is. Can I help you?”

“Yes, you can. You can stop seeing Jason Crownfield.”

“Excuse me?” Dale had broken into a cold sweat.

“Jason Crownfield is married to my daughter and you need to stop dating him. It would devastate her and the boy if they knew. Now stop seeing him.”

“Wh… What?” Dale stammered. “Married? The boy? What boy?”

“Jesse, his son. Now, if you have any decency, you will break it off. Please, I am begging you.” And with that, the voice was gone.

Dale collapsed into the chair.
This can’t be. There must be a mistake. There is no way.

1983 – M
URFREESBORO
, T
ENNESSEE
–
B
LUE
R
AIDER
T
RAINING
C
AMP

“Line up, gentlemen; we are going again. Let me see what you are made of! Who wants it, who wants it the most?”

Johnny fell in line for his eighth straight wind sprint. He was easy to spot, a boy among men. At eighteen he stood just five feet eight inches from the turf and weighed in at 140 pounds, on a good day. But he loved football. It had always been his dream to play in college, and someone had forgotten to tell him the meaning of the word “can’t.”

So he stepped to the mark. The whistle blew and he ran the forty yards with every ounce of speed he could muster, which unfortunately was not fast enough. Eighth sprint, eighth time he finished last even though the other guys were only going at 80 percent. That did not matter to Johnny. The only speed he really knew was 100 percent, and that is what he gave every single time.

He had to beg the coach to even let him on the field. It was on his fifth, “Coach, please just let me try,” that the coach had agreed. But even then it was not without protest.

“Look, son, they’ll kill you out there. Won’t even be anything left to send home to your momma. I think you need to redirect your energies. Linemen live to hit little ole receivers like you. Most of ’em receivers run like rabbits, that’s how they survive against the linemen. But, son, I’ve seen you run, and my grandma could take you. No offense now, but I don’t want ’em breakin’ you in two.”

“I know, Coach; I’m the slowest and the smallest guy around, but I got heart. I love this game. I love the workouts and the grit and the guys. Give me a shot. I’ll sign any waiver you want. Just let me try.”

So Coach, against his better judgment, had relented. And, much to his amazement, young Johnny had survived the full summer camp of two-a-days. Johnny had heard him talking it over with his assistant coach, “Pity is the kid has pretty decent hands and he is as advertised - all about heart and hard work. If I could put Johnny’s work ethic into a real athlete I would have an all-American that no one could touch.”

Johnny just pushed Coach’s comments out of his mind and kept on plugging away. There was no need to hold back now. He either made the team or he didn’t. All he could do was all he could do.

“Okay boys, that will do. Grab you a drink and hit the showers. We’ll let you know if you made it. Players posted on the board will be on the team – those names not listed, well we thank you for the try-out and we wish you the best in school.”

Johnny took off his helmet and took in a gulp of Gatorade. Sweat stung his eyes as he squinted through the blur. He could not think of a place on him that was not sore. But it was all worth it; every stinking, hurting minute of it – simply because he was following his heart.

Unexpectedly he felt a heavy blow on his shoulder pads. He swung around to see Buck and Big Ben staring down at him. Both defensive linemen were huge athletes with astonishing mobility. He knew firsthand how good they were. Johnny had been the recipient of much of their punishment the last two weeks.

“Nice knowing you, kid.” Buck gave him a toothless grin. “We’re going to miss planting you in the ground.”

“I hear the cheerleaders need a guy to help them out,” Big Ben added. “You’d be great at it; there’s no running involved and you are already used to having people standing on top of you.” He laughed, but it was a good-natured laugh.

“Yeah, thanks for the pep talk, guys. I got no regrets. I left it all out there on the field. Nothing else I can do except go nurse these bruises now.”

“You know, kid, you are pretty cool.” Buck smiled again. “You get your brains knocked out, take all our crap, but you never folded, not once. Listen, we’re all going to the farm tonight to celebrate the end of training camp. We’ve got a few kegs and some pizza along with some girls coming in. Why don’t you join us? It’ll be good times.”

“Really? This isn’t a prank or anything, is it? You aren’t going to make me look like a fool and send me on a wild goose chase, are you? I mean that sure would be funny and everything for you guys, but I have kinda already had a tough week.”

Big Ben laughed. “Yeah, it would be a pretty good prank, but, no, this is for real. Look Clark, you ain’t even close to being a football player, but you’re pretty cool. Just chip in your five bucks and bring it, man. You’ll have a good time and it will take the bite out of some of those hits you took. You know, for a little guy you got some grit. You earned it, man. A lot of guys respect you.”

“Thanks, guys. I’ll be there.”

And with that Johnny jogged to the locker room a new man. It did not hurt so much an hour later when he left the locker room. Even when he saw the list on the board sans his name, he was okay. His football days were over. High school had been fun, but a part of him always knew that heart and hard work would never be enough. Without physical gifts and skills, he never really had a chance at the college level. At first he had been angry about it when the older boys teased him, but as he grew older he learned to deal with all the taunting. His mantra, his philosophy, had been conceived then.
No matter what they say, I will never give up on my dreams. No one will ever outwork me.

“Clark!” Coach rounded the corner, a little surprised to see him standing at the board.

“Hey, Coach. Listen, good luck this year, and thanks for the try-out. I really appreciate it.”

“No, Johnny, thank you. Look, son, I’m really sorry I couldn’t find a spot for you on the team. But I’ve seen hardworking kids like you before. I know that whatever you do in life, as long as you stay true to who you are and go after it, you will succeed. Just won’t be football.”

Johnny laughed and the coach began to chuckle with him. “No, Coach, it sure won’t be football. We pretty much put that notion to bed, didn’t we?”

The party was going strong when Johnny arrived that night. It was more amazing than he had ever imagined it would be. It turned out that “The Farm” was the college students’ most popular party spot and no one threw a bigger or better party than the football team. Situated on rolling hills, the forty-acre plot was owned by a Middle Tennessee State alumnus, who had himself played football for the Blue Raiders years ago.

The plot was about twelve miles from campus in the middle of absolutely nowhere, which was perfect. The twisting road to the location went from asphalt to gravel and finally to just pure Tennessee dirt. If you were on this road and not going to The Farm then you were most definitely lost, not to mention unwanted.

It was largely wooded land, but after a few hundred yards the landscape opened up to an incredible clearing at the apex of one of the hills. From this vantage point, Johnny could see more stars than he had imagined the galaxy held. It was awesome in every sense of the word, and, oh, what stories these woods could probably tell. He reflected on the life of the animal inhabitants. How they must hate it when these two-legged party animals interrupted their tranquility. Nonetheless, there was no doubt some good times were had here.

Johnny had picked up three jobs that summer to help his mom pay for his college. He was the first of the family to make it. No doubt he had a lot invested, and he was not about to blow it. Johnny’s first goal was to learn and graduate. But at heart he was a guy who just loved being around people. It was important to him to fit in with his new friends. More than that, he had worked hard at football tryouts, and now it was time to play hard.

Buck spotted him first. “Johnny boy, you made it. We told you it was no hoax, man. Five bucks goes in the hat, grab you a cup, and I’ll prime the keg for you.”

Johnny tossed his five spot in the hat and smiled. He was not old enough to drink, but neither were half the people there. “Thanks Buck. Man, this is great. What do I have to do to get in that game over there? It looks like fun.” Johnny was not much of a drinker really, but the drinking game promised to bring him into the thick of the party quickly.

Buck looked from Johnny to the funnel-like contraption where massive amounts of beer were poured in one end and consumed by the participant on the other. It was a sure-fire way to get a fast buzz, or more for the uninitiated. Buck shrugged and looked back at Johnny.

“You’re next, buddy. Pace yourself though, man, we don’t want you hammered too early. You do want to be able to remember at least part of this night in the morning.”

And so began the legendary first Farm party for Johnny Clark. For it was on that night, well past midnight, full of intoxicated confidence, that young Johnny picked up Casey Capps’ guitar and started strumming it. He had kicked around some chords before and played a little in a high school band, but tonight he was a star.

“If I leave here tomorrooow, ow, would you still remembeeer, er, meeeee.” Johnny closed his eyes and belted out all he could remember of Free Bird. He saw Bic lighters being pulled out and swaying in the night air as he crooned the words. It was his best singing voice ever. The other noises at the party stopped and all eyes were on him. They were so into his music that they were part of him, willing him on. He was soaring with the magnitude of all the stars above. He could feel his seemingly weightless body being lifted from the ground, higher, higher.

Then he opened his eyes and saw that, as he had imagined, he was no longer standing on the ground. He then noticed that he was lifted up above the crowd by a very angry Casey Capps. Casey held him by his shirt collar with one hand and was glaring at him with obvious disdain. Casey stood a good six foot three inches and weighed over 240 pounds. The burly man appeared ready to tear Johnny into little pieces. He was the starting fullback and the strongest dude on the team.