My Blue Eyes (12 page)

     My senior project was due on the sixteenth of May, and I was eager to wrap things up.  In all the hustle and bustle of things going on, I had hoped the powers that be would take into consideration the departure of my partner.  I had pretty much given up hope of winning the top prize and was just hopeful for a passing grade.
     I continued testing the waters at Colapi Creek on a bi-weekly basis and the water continued to be polluted.  I had planned on talking with the hog farmer about his runoff, but since Troy told me it was private property, I had to let that go.  I instead gave my findings to the local conservation department and they did follow up on it.  They did their own testing of the waters and came up with different results.  They were able to do a little more intensive investigation of the waters and actually came up with a higher acidic number than I did. 
     They kept in contact with me.  I guess they felt appreciative someone actually wanted to do a report on the environment.  They wouldn't go in to a lot of detail, but informed me the farmer was ordered to build a barn further away from the creek to prevent the runoff.  I’m sure the farmer wasn't very happy with me.  From what I understand, the price of erecting a new barn to cover a thousand hogs is pretty expensive.  I would go back now and then after my project was completed and the pollution did cease.  I felt good about what Mary and I had accomplished.  Thankfully, the farmer couldn't do anything about me trespassing due to the side of the creek I frequented belonged to another guy.  It was just my luck that he and the hog farmer had been feuding for months over some land.  They both claimed ownership to some property along the creek.  Once the hog farmer was given a citation, a surveyor was ordered to establish the boundaries.  The guy whose land I had been on was declared to be the owner.  He thanked me for this.  He said if I wouldn't have been nosing around, their feud could have turned deadly.
  
     With graduation happening on June 3, 1993, the winner of the prize was going to be announced at the school assembly on May 25th.  The majority of seniors weren't expecting to win the top prize due to the many science geeks and their elaborate projects.  Our soon to be valedictorian all but had it sealed up.  He was an ass about it too.  He knew he was the smartest one in our school and the only one going to an Ivy League school, so he flaunted it.  I always thought smart kids were supposed to be humble with their intelligence.  Not him.

     His name was Todd Parker and he was the true meaning of an ass.  Granted, he would probably be the most successful kid out of our senior class, but that didn't take away from me disliking him.  I don’t know what it was about me he disliked so much.  I never flaunted my athletic prowess to anyone and was as humble as I could be.  My mom always said I had her to thank for that.  The day of the announcement, he and a bunch of his nerdy friends came up to me outside as I sat alone under a tree minding my own business.
     “Hey Darrel, good job on discovering a creek was polluted that no one cares about.”  His friends all laughed.  There were eight of them in this group. 
     I think I failed to mention I had a nice size article written about my project in our local newspaper.  The guy I had helped regain his property was more than a little appreciative.  He was the one who contacted the local paper for the story.
     “Thanks Todd,” I replied trying not to seem irritated.  “It was nice to hear that you invented a new zit cream for you and all your buddies.  Now maybe you all can clear up your complexions a bit.”
     Truth is I had no idea what he did for his project.  Someone told me, but it went in one ear and out the other.  Anything that contained big words I didn't know the meaning of, was Greek to me.
     Todd was definitely annoyed by my response.  “Whatever Darrel.  Maybe if you graduate from Alabama you can look me up and I’ll give you a job.”
     I remained sitting and said, “You know Todd, I am really not in the mood for your shit.  Frankly, I don’t even know why you’re giving me shit.  I think I've spoken, what, twenty words to you in my entire life?  Is there something you resent me for?”
     He was really annoyed now, “Resent you?  What do you have that would make me resent you?  The only thing you have going for you is the fact you can hit a little ball with a stick.  Guess what Darrel.  When that baseball dream of yours fails, I will be making millions of dollars in some exotic land.”
     To this day, I’m still confused about this conversation.  I literally never held a conversation with this fuck.  True, I did not like him, but that was because he liked to show everyone he was smarter than they are.  I never once bullied him.  Hell, I never bullied anyone.  If there ever was a jock who was all inclusive of anyone, it was me.
     As a matter of fact, at our ten year reunion I had a kid no one ever talked to come up to me to thank me.  He thanked me for never being mean or rude to him when everyone else always was.  He appreciated the fact I went out of my way to talk to him and include him in different class discussions.  I didn't realize at the time I did this, because it was second nature to me.  It was how I was raised.  Treat others how you would like to be treated, unless of course your last name is O’Neil.
     I really didn't have anything else I wanted to say to Todd.  My mom’s words ran through my head.  “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”  That’s what I did.  I looked away from Todd and ignored him.  He kept trying to antagonize me, but it didn't work.  I finally looked up at him and his buddies.
     “I’m sorry Todd, but if you guys don’t mind, I would like to get back to what I was doing.”
     They started to walk away and stopped about ten feet away.  Todd turned around and said the one thing that could get a rise out of me.
     “Oh, one more thing Darrel.  You might have had a chance at winning this if only you could have discovered a way to prevent your girlfriend from trying to kill herself.”
     To say I had steam coming out of me ears, and my head was in the beginning stages of exploding would be an understatement.  I don’t know how he knew this.  From what I understood, no one was aware and they just thought Mary’s mom got relocated.  I got to my feet and walked over to Todd, stopping one inch in front of his face.
     “Todd, I’m giving you one chance to take back what you just said.”  This was my go to line.  I gave a glance to his buddies who started to crowd me. 

     “If you think for one minute I’m going to let you get away with that comment, you have another thing coming.  And, if you think you’re mister tough guy with your buddies here, you better think again.  Sure, there is a good chance that all eight of them can take me, but before they get a chance to, I’m going to latch onto you like a leech and beat the living hell out of you.  So, what’s it going to be Todd?  Apologize for what you said or I promise you will be eating your food from a straw for the next couple of months.”
     I think my conversation with Todd must have made him wet himself.  He had the look of fear in his eyes.  He knew what happened to Bo O'Neil when he crossed that line.   I’m sure he was smart enough to back out of a situation where he certainly was going to get his ass whooped.  And I’m sure he had never been in any form of a physical altercation either.
     “What’s it going to be Todd?” I said moving myself closer to his face.  “Make sure the next words to leave your mouth are exactly the ones I want to hear.”
     “I’m sorry Darrel.  I don’t know why I said that.  I hope everything is okay with Mary.  I apologize.  Good luck today.  Honestly, you should be proud of what you accomplished with your project.  I’m really sorry.”
     I held out my hand to Todd and he obliged by shaking it.  “Good luck to you Todd.”
     He walked away and he left me shaking my head.  One never knows what’s going on in someone else’s head.  The only thing I could come up with was that he was feeling good about winning and getting his picture on the Wall of Fame.  He was cocky, and it just so happened I was the first person he came in contact with on his way into school.  I’m sure if there was anyone else sitting under that tree, he would have approached them the same way.  He really should have known better.

     He also should have known not all jocks are dumb, because Mary and I won that mother fucking top prize!
 
Chapter 30

     Fortunately, I missed my high school graduation ceremony.  It was fortunate, because that meant we were playing in the state championship game.
     We finished the regular season with a 33-2 record and were facing a team from the Chicago area that had a perfect 40-0 record.  We were the underdog going into the game due to them throwing their first round draft pick pitcher at us.  This kid was an animal.  I think he was something like 14-0 with a miniscule earned run average.  He struck out somewhere close to twenty batters per nine innings pitched.  He was a stud.
     The stadium we were playing in was jam packed.  I think it seated close to three thousand people and every single seat was taken.  Most of them were fans from the other team.  Our fans didn't seem to travel well and consisted mainly of friends and family.  My parents were unable to attend due to my mom still not feeling well.  She had gone to the doctor a couple times and they kept telling her she was having a difficult time getting over the flu.  My dad refused to leave her at home alone, so Troy was the only one expected to attend.  I tried looking for him throughout the mass of people with no luck.

     We were the away team due to being the lower seed.  The first two batters in our line up struck out looking on three pitches each.  This kid was throwing gas.  He had previously been clocked throwing ninety six and I think today he was coming close to doing that again.  I had never seen someone throw this hard.  I batted third and dug in against him.  The first two pitches were right down the middle as I swung and missed both times.  I rarely ever struck out.  The entire season I only did three times.  He caught me looking on a third strike.  I hated when people get caught looking on a third strike.  I mean, we have a bat in our hand for a reason.  The reason is to swing the damn thing.

     We were going into the bottom of the first tied at zero.  It only took this stud nine pitches to get us out.  I was clearly frustrated going into the second half of the inning because my first error of the year came in the form of a bad throw to second.  The bases were loaded with one out and I went for the double play instead of going for the sure thing.  It was a back hander towards third.  Instead of going to third for the out, I did a jump throw to second and the ball sailed over Matt’s stretched out glove.  A good throw should have ended the inning.  Since the bases were loaded, all three runs scored due to our right fielder failing to back up my throw.  I can’t blame him though.  It was my stupidity that put us in a three to zero hole.  This game couldn't have started out any worse.

     Our approach going into the game was to take a strike before swinging.  It might not have been the best approach against this kid.  He struck out the next three batters giving him six strikeouts to start the game.  It was ridiculous.  It must have seemed like we were a bunch of little leaguers facing a big league pitcher.  Everything he was throwing was a strike.  After we shut them down in the bottom of the second, Coach Bradley gathered us all around and told us to forget about taking a strike.  He wanted us to take a hack at every pitch, even if it was a ball.
     This wasn't good news for my buddy Mark who batted seventh.  He swung at the first pitch even though all those in attendance knew it was going to hit him.  He swung and the pitch clocked him right on the cup.  I don’t know what kind of cup he was wearing, but it miraculously absorbed most of the pain.  He went down for a good three minutes.  Due to him wearing a banana cup, when the ball struck hit him, it repositioned the cup making the edge of the cup pinch his nuts.  It’s kind of funny when you see someone get hit in the nuts.  You automatically close your own legs together squeezing your own nuts while wincing in pain.  Unfortunately for Mark, it was called a strike instead of a hit batter.  It must have pissed him off, because on the next pitch he doubled to right field.  We stranded him on second and were going into the bottom of the third down three to zero.

     We called our pitcher the Turtle.  His real name was John.  He was nicknamed The Turtle, because he was slow at everything he did.  John was quite a bit overweight, but had been our best pitcher all year.  He was lucky if he threw the ball over seventy miles per hour.  What he did have going for him, was the fact he was left handed and had an incredible change up.  This was his go to pitch all year.  He could make anyone up there look stupid.  It was a strategy of coach’s to throw him in this game.  When you’re in the state finals, most of the pitchers you faced in the sectionals could throw gas.  No one expected a kid with a sixty eight mile per hour fastball to challenge anyone.  He did though, and going into the top of the fourth we were still down three to zero.

     The fifth and sixth innings were rather quiet for both teams.  If it wasn't for my bad first inning, the game would have been considered a pitcher’s duel.  John hadn't allowed a runner since the first inning and their pitcher hadn't allowed a hit since Mark’s double to right.  We were headed towards the top of the seventh and I was due up sixth.  The only time I was held hitless the entire year was when we played our cross town rival, and they walked me every at bat.  I felt like I finally had my timing down and was hopeful for one more at bat.

     The top of the seventh started out with our number seven hitter striking out.  Our eighth placed hitter came up and was hit on the thigh with a curveball.  Why this guy even used a curve against us was amazing.  Next up was our ninth place hitter, and he hit a slow roller down the third base line and barely beat the throw to first.  Our leadoff hitter was next, and he went down in three straight pitches.  There were two outs with runners on first and second.  It was the second place hitter’s turn to hopefully extend the inning to me.  Coach told him to take two strikes.  This is usually unheard of when a pitcher has been having such pin point control.  The first pitch went low and outside.  The second did the same, as did the third and fourth for a two out walk.  It was my turn now.  Bases loaded, top of the seventh, down by three with two outs.  It was now or never for me.

     I dug into the box giving the bat a couple slow warm up swings over the plate.  I was set and so was he.  He decided to go from the wind up since the bases were loaded.  The first pitch was a fastball that buzzed me high and tight.  “One ball, no strikes,” the umpire hollered.  The next pitch was a curveball that bounced in front of home plate and the catcher did his job blocking it.  “Two balls, no strikes,” he announced again.  I was up in the count now, so I knew he would be coming back with a fastball over the heart of the plate.  I dug my back foot in and slightly moved my left foot more towards third.  As soon as it left his hand, I knew it was a fastball.  It came in and I gave it a big swing and fouled it straight back.  I had him timed.  He took the sign from the catcher and went to the wind up.  It looked like a fastball as I wanted to swing, but held back at the last second.  The ball was low and away.  They appealed to third and the umpire gave the signal for no swing.  “Three balls, one strike,” the umpire shouted from behind.  I set myself holding the bat straight up in my left hand as I bounced on my back foot getting set for the pitch.  Here it came.  It was a fastball in on the hands that I swung on and fouled off the handle.  A pain went shooting through my right wrist and went shooting up the arm.  I tweaked my wrist with that pitch.  The adrenaline would take care of the pain.  It was a full count with two outs.  The runners would be off with the pitch, giving them the chance to score on a hit to one of the gaps.  The crowd in the background was all on their feet hoping for either a chance for the bottom of the seventh or a state championship for them.  He shrugged off the catcher a couple times and then was set on his pitch.  I dug in again and brought the bat to rest slightly above my right shoulder.  It felt like it was just the two of us out there.  The crowd was drowned out through my concentrated focus and I waited for the pitch.  I figured it would be a fastball, and it was.  The pitch was slightly above the knees and over the heart of the plate.  I swung with everything I had and I made contact on the sweet part of the bat.  There are only a couple things that can compare to hitting the ball on the sweet spot of the bat.  You don’t feel the normal vibration of the aluminum bat when you hit it just right.  The bat feels like a feather and the swing is effortless.  I watched the ball as it went to left center field.  I knew it was gone.  I had it on the line.  The center fielder quickly rushed over to the fence and leaped from the warning track with his glove well over the wall.  And just like that, he caught it.  It was a miraculous play.  Their dugout emptied in jubilation as they all ran out to center field to sweep him on their shoulders.  I stopped shortly after rounding first and went down to my knees.  My high school career was over.

     Coach came over to give me a hug and we walked over to the line that had formed for the customary hand shake at the end of every high school game.  Some of the guys on the team were in tears.  Not me.  A long time ago, I vowed to never cry over a loss and I wasn't going back on that now.  They deserved to win, and I was part way responsible for the loss.  Coach wouldn't let me take the blame though.  He always said you win as a team and you lose as a team.  Second in state wasn't all that bad.  Never before had our school’s baseball team ever placed in state.  We could come home proud of that accomplishment.
Chapter 31

     It was a four hour drive back home.  The bus ride was quieter than usual.  We were all pretty bummed about not winning.  The quiet was nice.  It gave me time to reflect on my senior year since it was supposed to be legendary.  It might have been without the rollercoaster of emotions I experienced.
     I popped in a tape to my Walkman.  That’s right a Walkman.  I put the quarter sized headphones on that never fit right and always fell off every time you moved your head.  I stretched out on the uncomfortable bus seat with my legs resting on the other side of the bus Matt occupied.  He did the same.  This was the only way to lie that most resembled a couch, so we could hopefully fall asleep for most of the ride home.
     I didn't know which tape I grabbed, but was hoping for a little Meatloaf and especially “Two Out of Three Aint Bad”.  This wasn't the tape I grabbed.  It was a recording of my mom singing “On Eagle’s Wings”.  I laughed out loud and listened to her sing it in its entirety.  She wasn't half bad until she hit the chorus.  Why she had to sing it in an opera style never made sense.  I hated that she couldn't make my game.  I missed her and needed her positive reinforcement to tell me losing wasn't my fault.  I also couldn't wait to get a hold of Troy to see why he didn't attend the game.  If he had, I would have been able to ride home with him and not have to endure this agonizing ride home.
     My mind drifted to my picture on the “Wall of Fame” at school.  Kids would see my picture there for years to come.  I also won a five thousand dollar scholarship that I really didn't need.  I had talked to the principal, and he agreed I could nominate another student to receive the award.  I picked this quiet kid named Brent that I shared a couple classes with.  If Mary would have had a brother, it would have been Brent.  I always tried to have a conversation with him and was usually unlucky in my attempts.  The most I gathered from him was, he wasn't planning on going to school because he didn't get good grades and his parents couldn't afford it.  He was pretty excited when I told him I wanted to give it to him.  From what I know now, he attended the local junior college and then went to a four year college.  He’s now a big deal in the computer industry somewhere.  He’s been featured in several magazines and on a couple talk shows.  He never thanked me, but he didn't have to.

     Of course I thought about Mary.  I hadn't talked to her since our phone call on the first of May.  She was an emotional wreck during the call.  I worried she would have another break down, but at least she was with professionals who could handle it.  I really wanted to see her.  I wanted to feel her touch, smell her beauty.  I just wanted her.  It wasn't fair what happened to us.  Heck, most of our relationship wasn't fair.  I’m going to use the same old cliché, but I missed her so much it hurt.  It’s crazy how your first true love can have such a hold on you.  My parents were lucky.  They each said they were each other’s true love.  Now they get to spend the rest of their lives together.  Never having to worry about not having the other one around.  I wanted what they have.  I was still young and had a whole lifetime ahead of me to find it.

     As I lay there on the bus, I gave this whole true love thing some more thought.  High school kids are really idiots, especially us boys.  We get so hung up on a girl, we let them ruin our whole year.  Instead of concentrating on experiencing many girls, we focus on one.  We spend all our time trying to woo them and miss out on the “slutty” girls who are more than willing to show you a good time.  The “slutty” girls are the ones you did your best to avoid in order to save your reputation, but really, they had it all figured out.  They didn't worry about getting hung up on one person.  They were experiencing life.  They played the field knowing they weren't going to find Mr. Right in high school.  This could easily be switched around too.  I've known plenty of male sluts in my lifetime and had to endure the countless conversations of all the girls they banged.  Now, we all know that if a guy bangs a lot of girls he’s considered a stud.  I would find out years later this wasn't always true.  These guys were actually despised by most of the girls in school and were generally only approached as a last resort.  I guess I’m glad I was never considered one of those guys.  
     My mom would occasionally overhear some of me and my friend’s conversations about these types and would always say, “If someone has to sleep with that many people to get satisfaction, then they obviously have low self-esteem and personal issues to work on.”  I think for the most part, she was right.  Mary was the exception.  She had personal issues and low self-esteem, but wasn't the least bit promiscuous.
     This brought me back to Mary.  Somewhere between my thoughts, I drifted off to sleep and dreamt about her.  It was such a good dream.  It was Christmas time again and we were unwrapping presents.  Everyone was so happy.  Mom and dad were singing in the background with their Statler Brothers tape.  My dad was seated on the floor handing out gifts.  He then handed Mary the gift he bought her, claiming it was from me.  Instead of the locket, it was an engagement ring.  I then got down on one knee and proposed to her.  She didn’t say yes.  All she kept saying was, “Darrel, get up!”  I asked her why but she kept saying, “Darrel, come on, get up.”  I asked her to answer me and then she slapped me on the leg and said, “Darrel, get your ass up!”  I woke up suddenly and saw coach standing above me.  He was trying to wake me up for a good minute.  All my teammates got a good laugh about it.  I guess I had asked coach to marry me as he attempted to get me up.  Talk about embarrassment.
     This brought everyone to a good mood and our sadness suddenly turned to jubilation as coach expressed how proud he was of us.  He told us he had never been around a group of young men so committed to winning.  He said he considered each and every one of us his sons.  When we got off the bus, he wanted us to hold our heads up high as we greeted whatever fans were there.  He gave each and every one of us hug and wished us senior’s good luck in the future.