“Never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never - in nothing great or small, large or petty - never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense.” Sir Winston Churchill
“It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog.” Mark Twain
Near the end of my Soph year the Butcher merged his shop with a local grocer and created the first quasi supermarket in our little town. Already a trained meat cutter, I learned to order and handle a produce section, grocery section and Dairy box. I was lightening fast on a cash register and stocking shelves, popular with the customers, many of whom had become very friendly, interested in me and became my own little booster club. Football was becoming my best sport, Lettering as a Soph and in my Junior year I was first string Slotback and Strong Safety (All League, Honorable Mention). Academically I wasn’t a super star but was holding my own in the advance college prep group. I was dating the daughter—a real looker and a Senior— of two professors at the county community college and life was good, life was simple.
Then began a series of events that would drastically alter the course of my life and, eventually, usher me in to Scientology.
My father found another woman in another town about 60 miles away that was more to his liking and just happened to be a wealthy widow. In December of my Junior year he just disappeared one day, called my mother and told her it was over, that he wasn’t coming back and that was final. I didn’t hear squat or see boo of him for 6 months. My mother, of course, was a basket case. She spent hours in tirades about how bad he was and how I was just like him and she pitied any woman that would marry me. Her “fallback” was Jesus and, though already a Born Again, Fundamentalist Christian, she left the bible thumper church that she and my father were longtime members of and fell in with an evangelical, speaking in tongues, literally Holy Roller bunch. Often when I came home at 9:00 after work she’d have a dozen or more of her new “friends” in the house and some of them would be rolling on the floor, shaking and ranting in “tongues” while the rest sat there moaning, “Praise Jesus, Yes Jesus, take me Jesus”. She’d insisted that I always come and say “hello” to each one of them. The look in their eyes was real spooky and it all creeped me out…bad.
School, work and sports, more than ever, became my refuge. I’d leave home early in the morning after my chores and came back late in the evening, do some chores, study some, read some and try to sleep. In some ways my life had not change all that much from my parents situation. I had many friends at school, had all my customer friends at work and my jock buddies. My father had never attended one my games and I could count on one hand the number of times we had done father/son stuff and even then, it was about him. My mother had only been to one game, which we lost, and afterwards she derided for how poorly I and teammates had played. She had also attended a couple choir performances but again, as far as she was concerned I wasn’t and the choir wasn’t very good. Of course, all four years I was in High School I had sung in the Advanced/Madrigal Choir and all four of those years our group received 9 out 9 Superior ratings at the Regional a cappella tournament. I rarely ever talked with anyone about my home life as it was embarrassing to me and seemed pointless. I knew what the solution was—to walk away when I finished High School…that was my hope, my dream and I thought little about my future beyond that.
Our football team that year went from next to last place my Soph year to second place. We had a new coach that was young, really good, inspiring and very much into making us the best men and team we could be. By the end of the year 70% of the starters were my fellow juniors. We had a good shot at being league champions our Senior year. After the season Mr. Head Coach called me into his office for a chat. He told me that as long as I kept my grades up he was confident I could get a scholarship to a Division II school, possibly Division 1AA, maybe even a 1A. He said he’d help me all he could to get one but I needed to make some choices.
I was an OK basketball player but likely to ever be a starter, he said. He was right and I agreed. I was a good Baseball player, a pitcher with a gun for an arm but control problems and it would take a lot of work and practice to be a starter. He was right and I agreed. “Okay, Face,” he said, “here’s my deal, man to man. You give up basketball and baseball. Next semester I’ll get you put in my last period PE class. The rules won’t let me teach to any football but It will let me coach at weight training, agility and conditioning. Both terms this summer school the rules say that me and one other coach can teach body building and conditioning and you take both terms. We gotta get you bigger and quicker. You’re going to be the 2nd string Slotback next year because we’re going to concentrate on the position that you’ve got the best shot at getting a full ride.”
“You’re a real hitter son.” Coach continued. “You gotta a good head for the game and a nose for the ball. Look Face, I know you’ve got some tough stuff going on and I’m not gonna tell you how I know that, but I do, and that’s none of my business. What my business is is to make boys into men and, as far as I’m concerned you’re farther along than most…you just gotta suck it up and put it in the end zone, son. I can and I will help you, but you’re the one that’s gotta carry the ball.” He told me to think about, that it was my decision and up to me, that simple.
For me it was Ms. Angel and the Butcher all over again…someone believed in me, someone was gonna help me and give me a chance. I told Coach, then and there without hesitation, I was in and I wasn’t going to let him down. We stood up and shook hands, eye to eye, man to man. For weeks my head was in the clouds. I was gonna do this…no matter what it took, I was going to give it everything I had…I was going to make this happen! Nothing and no one was going to stop me.
Over the course of the rest of the school year I had less and less time for my personal reading pursuits. My focus was on preparing for the coming football season and my coming opportunity to vault into a new life. My reading shifted to stories of overcoming adversity, of determination and the “Philosophy and Tech” of football.
I could sense it, I could feel it in my heart and soul!
My moment was upon me!
Face
