'68 - A Novel...

CHAPTER 29: FRIDAY, OCTOBER 25


The crowd milled around outside the stadium, gathered in groups, talking and laughing, beginning to line up and file past the ticket booths. Corbus Field would be packed tonight for the game against Sir Francis Drake High, one of those upscale Marin schools. Friday night football always drew a great crowd – parents, faculty and students – to see the Vallejo High Apaches play. Inside the stadium, the band was warming up with a rousing rendition of the theme from “Peter Gunn.”

John Harris loved the Friday night football scene. It was a great way to end the week and the glow of a victory always carried through the weekend. His wife Martha and daughter Jenny were with him, bundled up in several layers of clothing against the cool October night, carrying blankets to spread on the hard wooden bench seats. John and Martha would sit with the other team parents, in a section right below the press box. Jenny would be off with her friends, here there and everywhere around the massive concrete grandstand.

They made their way up the steep steps toward the press box, pausing to chat with friends along the way. Near the top, John saw Kenji and Tami Hashimoto seated next to Isaac and Millie Washington and he gave them a wave. Lucas Washington was the starting tailback and a fine runner, Eric Hashimoto the starting center. John Harris, Jr. was a linebacker, anchoring a solid defensive unit. They found an open space next to Hashimotos and spread their blankets.

The Drake squad was already on the field going through its warm-up routine. Out across the field, where the buildings of the campus were clustered on a rise behind the stadium, they saw the Vallejo team file out of Bottari Gym, heading in a long line toward the gate on the east side of the stadium. At a signal from across the field, the bass drummer in the band took up the tom-tom beat: BOOM boom boom boom / BOOM boom boom boom – and the Apaches ran onto the field in single file, led by their captains. The team arrayed into a grid at the north end of the field to begin their warm-ups as the band went into the “Indian War Chant.” Finally, with the warm-up drills well underway, the band segued into a spirited version of “Cherokee.” This little ritual always sent chills up John Harris’s spine, and he was sure he wasn’t the only one.

Now as it neared time for the kick-off, the Vallejo cheerleaders mounted the platform in front of the student section to lead the “Hello” yell.

Oh, Drake has got a battleship
They’ve also got a bell
But Vallejo’s got a submarine
To blow ‘em all to
Hell-O, Dra-ake!

Vallejo kicked off to Drake and the game was underway, the rolling baritone voice of Lou Sanders on the PA system, calling the plays: “Smith the ball carrier, brought down by Harris. Gain of three yards. Second down.” The crowd settled in for the long battle, joining the cheerleaders in all the familiar yells: “We’ve got a T-E-A-M, it’s on the B-E-A-M.” Or, “Victory, victory, that’s our cry. V-I-C-T-O-R-Y…”

Drake marched down the field, scored a touchdown, but missed the extra point. Vallejo answered with a drive of its own, Lucas Washington breaking off a 19 yard run for the touchdown. The extra point was good and the band went into the Vallejo fight song:

Onward Apaches, fight fight fight
Lead us to victory, men
We’re on the warpath, scalping to win
Ring up the score again, Vallejo…

After that, the game settled into a defensive struggle, and when the gun sounded for the end of the first half, Vallejo led 7 to 6. John Harris headed for the snack bar located under the grandstand, daughter Jenny pulling him along, insisting that a hot dog and a Coke were all that stood between her and starvation. Holding the cups of coffee he’d purchased for himself and Martha, he stopped to visit with friends while Jenny bounded up the steps to enjoy her hotdog and watch the cheerleaders perform their half time routines.

Suddenly, John felt someone tugging at his sleeve. “Mr. Harris, you’d better come quick. Something’s wrong with Jenny.”

Without stopping to think, John tossed the cups of coffee into a nearby trashcan and hurried up the steps to the grandstand. He glanced up to the section below the press box and saw a small crowd gathered there. He ran up the aisle, taking the steps two at a time, gasping for breath. He burst into the group surrounding Martha and Jenny, and what he saw terrified him. His daughter’s face was turning purple, her hands clutching her throat, her eyes wide with terror as she struggled to breathe. Behind her, Isaac Washington held her with one arm and slapped her back hard with the flat of his hand.

“Ike, what are you doing?” John could barely get the words out.

“Wait, let me try this.”

Isaac wrapped both arms around Jenny from behind, made a fist just below her rib cage, and pulled in hard. Nothing happened. He pulled hard again, and this time a small, round projectile shot from Jenny’s mouth, landing on the bench three feet away. Jenny gasped as her lungs began to function again, air rushing in and out. Isaac let her go and she fell into her mother’s arms, sobbing, her head buried against Martha’s shoulder, her normal color coming back swiftly.

Isaac picked up the projectile that Jenny had spit out, a perfectly round section of hot dog. “See here? The perfect plug. The abdominal compressions did the trick, thank God.”

A doctor who’d been sitting nearby came into their circle and spent a few minutes examining Jenny. He said she seemed fine, but he suggested that they take her home and keep an eye on her, perhaps call their family doctor and hear his advice. The Hashimotos offered to give John Jr. a ride home after the game, and with that, the Harrises headed for the exit. The second half was just underway as they reached the parking lot.
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John opened the kitchen cupboard and reached for the bottle of Jack Daniel’s on the upper shelf. He took down two water glasses and poured a couple of fingers of the amber liquid into each of them. Martha entered the kitchen and John offered her a drink, which she promptly accepted.

“She’s sound asleep, like nothing ever happened.” Martha took the glass from John and swirled the whiskey around the bottom of the glass. She looked at John, standing a few feet away, leaning against the countertop, and then her composure crumbled, the tears streaming down her face. John took her in his arms and held her close, her body racked with sobs. “We almost lost her, John. We almost lost her.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said quietly, rocking her gently in his arms. “Thank God Ike Washington was there.”
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CHAPTER 30: SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 3


“So, how was the trip? Did you like the campus?”

“Yeah, it was nice… beautiful actually. And the training facilities are amazing...” John’s voice on the phone was flat, hesitant, not at all what Bobbie expected.

“Uh huh… what else, Johnny? Did you meet some of the guys on the team?”

“Yeah, I met a bunch of the guys… they seem real nice…”

“Come on, Johnny, you don’t sound very excited. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Bobbie… I mean it’s a great offer – basically a full ride scholarship for football. And I can walk on to tryout for the baseball team if I want…”

“It sounds perfect, Johnny! Why aren’t you happy about this?”

John had just returned from an official recruiting visit to UCLA. He and his father had spent the weekend touring the campus, meeting prospective teammates and talking to the coaching staff. The scholarship offer was on the table now. All he had to do was sign the Letter of Intent and he would be on his way to a future that had no limits.

“I don’t know, Bobbie… I’m not sure I want to be in L.A., 400 miles away, and you back here in Vallejo. I mean, I could go to the JC and play football there, and baseball too… At least we could see each other, be together. Ya know?”

A sudden hollow feeling gripped Bobbie’s stomach. This was not good. She had to do something, and do it fast.

“Okay, look Johnny, we need to talk face-to-face. Can you meet me somewhere? How about Scotty’s? We really need to talk.”
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Bobbie drove across town, heading for the corner of Tennessee and Tuolumne, the site of Scotty’s Doughnuts, a Vallejo institution. She was thinking hard and fast, trying to sort out her feelings. She and John had fallen back into their relationship following the pregnancy scare, taking pains to be more careful than ever before. Bobbie saw a physician and obtained a prescription for the pill.

There was no question that they were in love, and yet she knew she was holding something back, never quite letting go. She’d known all along that this day was coming. Now she would have to find a way to convince him, even if she had to hurt him in the process. She could not let him walk away from his future.

Bobbie thought about the letter she had received from her cousin Thad, serving in Vietnam. What was the acronym he had used to describe the situation there? FUBAR – Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition. She knew she had to prevent their situation from going FUBAR.

They met at Scotty’s, but wound up sitting in John’s car in the parking lot rather than going into the shop. Bobbie wasted no time getting directly to the issue.

“Listen to me, Johnny. You’ve got to sign that Letter of Intent, you’ve got to accept the scholarship.”

“I don’t know, Bobbie. What I really want is to be here with you…”

“I know, baby, I know… but listen to me. We both have to move on with our lives. Remember I told you I wanted to go back to school when I saved some money? Well, I’ve decided to go back to Sacramento. I can live with my old roommate, and there’s a nursing program I can get into up there. I want to be a nurse and do what my daddy’s doing.”

She was lying through her teeth now. Not that nursing was a bad idea. In fact, it was a move she’d been thinking about for some time, though the plan was not nearly as well formed as she was presenting it.

She went on: “I can start the program in January, Johnny. I’m going to give notice at my job soon. So you see, baby, I won’t be here. There’s no point in you staying in Vallejo, ‘cause I’ll be gone.”

“Geez, Bobbie, I didn’t know you were thinking about going back…”

“Look, Johnny…” Her voice caught in her throat now. She was going to be brutally honest with him. “You’ve just started your senior year in high school. You’ve got the best year of your life ahead of you: all the big dances, the Prom, the senior picnic, graduation, the all-night party, all of those once-in-a-lifetime experiences. And I can’t share any of that with you. We need to move on with our lives. You need to go to UCLA. UCLA, Johnny! Do you know what it means to get a degree from the University of California? And I need to get on with my life. I have dreams, too, baby.”

She went on, making her case, knowing that her argument was bulletproof. Before long they were both in tears. Plain and simple, she was breaking up with him, urging him to embrace the life of a normal high school senior, and at the same time to commit for next fall to a university located 400 miles away. Bobbie knew she was winning this debate; at the same time, she was losing the boy she loved. Then again, she’d known from the very beginning that it would end this way.

Finally, she left his car and headed for her own, tears clouding her vision. She knew without question that she’d done the right thing. Why then did it feel so FUBAR?
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Next week: It’s election night in America – Humphrey vs. Nixon vs. Wallace. And then it’s time for a Veterans Day parade.
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