" F O O T B A L L   I S
 L I K E    L I F E.
 I T   R E Q U I R E S
P E R S E V E R A N C E,
S E L F-D E N I A L,
H A R D   W O R K,
S A C R I F I C E,
D E D I C A T I O N
A N D   R E S P E C T
F O R   A U T H O R I T Y. "
Vince Lombardi

" F O O T B A L L
C O M B I N E S   T W O   O F
T H E   W O R S T   T H I N G S
I N   L I F E.
I T   I S   V I O L E N C E
P U N C T U A T E D   B Y
C O M M I T T E E
M E E T I N G S. "
George Will

" I N   D O I N G   Y O U R
W O R K   I N   T H E   W O R L D,
I T   I S   A  S A F E   P L A N
T O   F O L L O W   A   R U L E
I   H E A R D   O N   T H E
F O O T B A L L   F I E L D.
D O N'T   F L I N C H,
D O N'T   F A L L,
H I T   T H E   L I N E
H A R D. "
Theodore Roosevelt

" I F   A   M A N
W A T C H E S   T H R E E
F O O T B A L L   G A M E S
I N   A   R O W,
H E   S H O U L D   B E
D E C L A R E D   L E G A L L Y
D E A D. "
Irma Bombeck

This is the fourth in a series of short fiction essays about Maximilian and his magical thinking. They are all related so it may be helpful to read or review the earlier essays as each new one builds upon them.
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Maximilian made the football team. He did not have to be tall.

"All you need is guts," growled the Coach, "and being able to take a hit.".

Maximilian nodded, his helmet wiggling loosely on his head. It was the last available helmet and it was too big.

"My helmet is too big, it keeps falling over my eyes," he said.

"Do you have any really small helmets?" Maximilian asked hopefully.

"If you got guts, you don't need a helmet," the Coach growled again. "And if you can take a hit, you do not really need those sissy pads either."

"If I don't see everyone hitting hard in practice, all of you will be playing in your jock straps," he warned.

Maximilian was now especially glad that he had purchased one.

It had taken guts, he thought.

His mind drifted back to that eventful day just before football practice started.

"I made the football team," he told his parents proudly.

"Why do you want to play such a rough sport?" his mother asked worriedly. "You might injure your hands."

"We want you to be a famous brain surgeon," his dad added. "You should spend your spare time studying."

"The coach said I must really have guts if I want to play football," Maximilian replied.

"And I have to be able to take a hit," he added.

"You better have an athletic supporter," his dad said, suddenly less interested in Maximilian's hands.

"Try it on before you buy it," his mother said, still very hesitant about the idea. "Be sure it fits," she added, as if he was shopping for a pair of shoes.

Maximilian was hoping for a salesman. He looked around the store but there were no men in sight.

I have to remember to have guts, he thought.

"Can you help me?" he said politely to the nearest saleswoman who was busy with another shopper.

"What do you need," she asked impatiently.

"I am on the football team. I need an athletic supporter," he said very quietly, hoping that the nearby shoppers would not hear him.

"Hey Mabel, where did you stock the jock straps?" she shouted to another saleswoman across aisles of shoppers. "A little fellow here says he needs one."

Maximilian walked to Mabel without looking up. He could hear the titters and giggles.

"I want to try on athletic supporters so that I can find one that fits before I buy it," he said, remembering what his mother had told him.

He was, after all, a responsible boy.

"They come in large, medium and small," she said. "What size are you?"

Maximilian turned red from being asked such a highly personal question by someone he knew only as Mabel.

"Well, uh, uh, I will try a large," he finally managed to say, considering the options.

"Oh, really," said Mabel. "You do not look like a large. We better measure you."

She removed a tape measure from around her neck.

Maximilian froze.

The tape measure went around his waist.

"A small will fit your waist size just fine," Mabel said.

"My waist is small, my waist, you said?" Maximilian asked, as understanding began to dawn through the shock of what he thought was going to happen.

He waved to Mabel as he left the store. She had been very helpful. Mabel did not see him wave. She and the other saleslady were doubled over with laughter.

Anyway, he was now prepared to take a hit.

Players who were slow runners like Maximilian or who could not catch passes were assigned to lineman duty.

"I could catch passes if I could see them coming," his friend Horse said, who was very near-sighted.

They lined up next to each other on the "hamburger squad" that practiced against the first team, the biggest and best players.

"When the first team is done with you, you will be hamburger," the Coach snarled at them.

"I have to hit you hard," said the big lineman facing Maximilian. "I do not want everyone playing in only their jock straps."

"I am prepared to take a hit," Maximilian replied.

He felt the jolt of pain as a helmet hit him square in the chest. He flew up in the air and landed hard on his back with his feet in the air. He was gasping for breath as he stumbled back to his feet, tripping over Horse.

"Act like you are dead," Horse whispered, in no hurry to get up.

"Run that play again," the Coach yelled. "There were players on the hamburger squad still standing and the ones on the ground were not bleeding."

Suzy, a very popular and smart girl, was also on the cheerleading squad. They were practicing their cheers at football practice.

"Hit them again, hit them again, harder, harder," they chanted cheerfully to the first team and waved their pompoms.

"Could I please have a drink of water before the next play," Horse asked politely, hoping to delay the action. "I am very thirsty."

"WATER!" screamed the Coach. "Get tough! Do you think our boys fighting in the jungle stopped for drink of water?"

Oh great, Maximilian thought. The Coach and Miss Wish, the music teacher, were probably together in the same army boot camp.

Having guts and taking a hit were not all they were cracked up to be.

Maximilian was a magical thinker. He was able to make people say what he was thinking in order to make things better. He had helped the basketball team to start winning games again and Horse to stop cheating on tests. He had helped Miss Wish, the music teacher; appreciate students who had interesting voices.

How could I make this better, Maximilian wondered?

He would have to think quickly before the first team lined up to run the same play again.

"You boys on the hamburger squad take a licking and keep on ticking," the Coach said, glancing down to check the time on his watch.

"I respect that. We will not face another team all season as tough as The Hamburger Squad," he added with special emphasis.

"Hamburgers, Hamburgers, well done, well done," chanted Suzy and the other cheerleaders as they threw their pompoms in the air. It was the best they could do in the moment with this totally unexpected change of heart by the Coach.

"Horse is very thirsty, it is time for a drink," the Coach said cheerfully. "Let's head for the root beer stand. The beer is on me."

Well, maybe the root beer is pushing it a little bit, Maximilian thought, but hey, we took a hit today. We had guts.

He licked the cold froth from his lips and smiled. This was more like it. He had made things better.




© C O P Y R I G H T   2 0 0 5.  Gary Holdgrafer ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.