Beyond The Goalposts: Junior Year

Chapter 4

Saturday Night – Aug. 30, 1986 7:00pm – Did He Just Do That?

MATT CRUISED AROUND the block. His midnight blue Regal rounding the corner to pick up Rick. He had rushed home as quick as he could from Stanley's Grocery Store after getting out early from work. He was ready for a boys night out. His Alpine stereo cranking out "Round and Round" at perfect volume while he drummed on the steering wheel.

​

Tonight was about cutting loose. 

Two quick honks.

Rick dropped into the passenger seat, grinning. “Bout time. Thought you weren’t gonna show.”

"Please. When have I ever left you hangin'?"

"You want that list alphabetical or chronological? Five times last year cause of Amy alone."

Matt shoved him, grinning. "Shut up. Seatbelt, man. I’m not gettin’ blamed for you."

"Alright alright. Let's roll! Jack and Paul ready?"

"If they ain't, they're walkin'." Matt pulled away from the curb, tires crunching over scattered gravel. "What’d you tell your parents?"

"Campin'."

"Same."

Rick glanced at the speedometer as Matt accelerated past Walmart out on 111. "You know my cousin got a ticket on this road last week."

"Good thing I'm not your cousin then," Matt replied, pressing the gas pedal harder just to make his point. Rick always tried to be the voice of reason. Useful sometimes, annoying tonight.

They found Jack ready at his house, his lanky frame and wide shoulders bounding over before the car fully stopped.

"What's up losers? Shotgun," Jack called out, his oversized belt buckle glinting as he slid toward the door, Rick’s groan drowning out his laugh.

"Too late." Rick's grin flashed at him. "Shoulda been first."

"That sophomore still comin’ along?" Jack asked.

"Next stop." Matt pulled off leaving a trail of dust out of Jack’s gravel drive. "Unless y'all'd rather walk."

"Lord no, hoss. My legs are plumb wore out from that scrimmage," Jack said.

"That one was rough," Rick added.

"You're the one who dropped that pass, Rick." 

"That was not my…"

"Both of y'all shut up."

They pulled up to Paul’s house, honking. Matt flipped through his cassette case while their sophomore lineman opened his back gate.

"There he is." Rick pointed through the windshield. "Lookin' like a lost puppy."

"Hustle up, Sophomore," Jack yelled.

"Yeah Jones, move it," Rick chimed in.

Paul slid in, already talking. "Hey, y'all ain't gonna believe what my old man got me yesterday. New Honda four wheeler. Thing's crazy fast."

"That thing faster’n Everett’s rig?" Jack asked.

"Thing's bad to the bone. We gotta take it out soon."

"Your definition of 'soon' better not mean tonight, sophomore,” Matt said.

Rick reached for the stereo. “Can we please listen to somethin’ else?”

"Touch that dial and lose a finger." Matt swatted his hand away.

"Come on, man." Jack leaned over the seats. "We done heard Ratt ‘bout fifty times this week."

"My car, my tunes."

A collective groan filled the car.

"Not that rap stuff again."

"My car." Matt popped out Ratt and held up the Run-DMC tape. "My rules."

The first guitar riff hit, then the lyrics. Kings and queens raising hell poured through the speakers.

All four heads started bouncing in perfect sync. Even Jack, who'd been complaining seconds ago, was mouthing the words.

Jack launched into a wild story about the seniors at lunch. Paul swore he wasn’t cheating in Mrs. Wells' English class. Rick plotted their next adventure.

Matt smiled. He needed this. The normalcy. The noise.

Anything to drown out that voice reminding him how close he'd come to losing it all.

"Hold up." Matt wheeled into the convenience store parking lot, the tires crunching against loose gravel. It was the same one they'd walk to in middle school to avoid the school cafeteria. "Gotta grab somethin'."

"For real, Garr?" Jack leaned forward. "Right now?"

"You got somewhere better to be?" Matt shot back, throwing the car into park. He didn't wait for an answer as he stepped out, the door slamming shut behind him.

​

Through the windshield, they watched him head to the door.

"Mary's workin’. She's always workin’ Saturday nights." Rick said, pointing toward the counter.

"Reckon she still got that sweet spot for him?" Jack asked, smirking.

"Please." Rick snorted. "When doesn't a girl have a crush on Garrett?"

"Oh man, watch this," Jack leaned forward.

"Hey, Garr!" he shouted through the open window. Matt paused as he reached the door. Jack grinned. "Bet ya can’t sweet-talk her into slingin’ us some beer!”"

Matt turned, one hand on the door handle. "What?"

"You heard me," Jack said, loud enough to make Rick and Paul burst into laughter. "Less you’re yella. Let's see that Garrett charm in action."

"Don't be stupid, Stewart," Matt said, shaking his head. He turned to pull the door open and stopped.

"Come on, man," Jack pressed, his grin widening. "You chicken? Don't tell me all that charm's just for show."

Matt squared his shoulders and entered. His easy smile was already in place as he leaned against the counter, saying something that made Mary laugh. Mary, two years out of school but still looking like a senior, tilted her head in that familiar, playful way. She always did when she was teasing him, like she had back when he'd awkwardly asked her to teach him how to two-step at the KC Hall when he was a freshman.

"Is he really gonna do it?" Rick said, craning to watch through the glass.

"Probably tellin' her about that touchdown last night in the scrimmage." Paul snorted. "Works every time."

"Works every time?" Jack laughed, turning in his seat. "What in tarnation you know ‘bout that, Sophomore?"

The banter died abruptly as they saw Matt move toward the coolers. His stride slowed before he grabbed two twelve-packs and turned back to the counter.

"No dang way." Jack muttered, his voice serious. "He's ain’t..."

"What the f…." Paul added in shock.

"He would." Rick's grin widened. "And he is."

They watched, wide-eyed. Mary glanced several times toward the window. She raised her hands up almost signaling if Matt was sure. She wasn't smiling. She then quickly bagged the beer.

"I can't believe this is happenin’," Paul whispered. His eyes darted out the windows, scanning the parking lot.

"Look out," Paul ducked down as headlights swept across the lot. A truck rumbled up to the gas pumps.

Matt strolled out, the bags swinging at his side. His pace relaxed, almost lazy, as if he didn't have a care in the world. The moment he slid into the driver's seat, the bags disappeared into the back.

"You're freakin' insane, Garr." Rick stared at him. "Completely insane."

​

"Did Mary even card you?" Paul's head was still on a swivel, glancing out the window.

​

"Don't worry about it." Matt's grin didn't change as he started the car and cranked the volume. The bass hitting hard to the lyrics. That signature DMC, raising hell swagger that always made the world feel like it was theirs for the taking.

"Dude." Jack said, shaking his head with a mix of disbelief and envy, his freckled cheeks creasing as he grinned wide. "You fittna be my hero for real. I reckon that wind-chapped mug of yours sweet-talked her good!"

​

"I’ve always been your hero, Jack. Thank me later. Time to hit that party." Matt's voice was casual, but the way his fingers gripped the wheel told a different story.

​

As they pulled out of the lot, the music thumped, matching the rush Matt felt coursing through him. That familiar surge of invincibility returned, the same rush he got when he got the handoff to run up the middle.

​

But also a nagging voice in there whispering, What are you doing?

But even as the thought settled, Matt caught Rick studying him out of the corner of his eye. Rick had known him since the fourth grade, and that look said it all. Rick didn't buy the act. Not entirely.

Matt just turned up the music louder, drowning out everything. Questions. Doubts. Everything.

​

The Buick cruised toward the north side of town, toward the party already started. Matt's fingers tapped the wheel in perfect rhythm, his game face sliding into place with practiced ease.

​

Time to prove to everyone, maybe even himself, that Garrett was back.

​

Time to give everyone a show.