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.”He laughs.When Chris is out of earshot, I turn back to Barbour.“I caught him wearing his brother’s jacket again at the bowling alley last night,” Barbour says.“What kind of pride can we have if—”I say, “Coach, I don’t want to be disrespectful with the language again, so I might need a little help with this.What’s an acceptable term for chickenshit?”“You’re on thin ice, Jones.”I take a deep breath.Even Benson has to be reasonable on this one, if I don’t push him any further into Barbour’s camp.“Okay, what’s an acceptable term for a big-time football hero who’s threatened by a brain-damaged kid so scared he can barely make it through a school day without hyperventilating himself into unconsciousness, wearing his dead brother’s letter jacket because it’s the only thing that gives him any connection to his brother and therefore to this school?”Coach scratches his chin.Interesting how you can say almost anything you want as long as you don’t say shit or fuck or any word derivative thereof.I’m getting a handle on the communication thing.He says, “I’ll admit it’s a different situation with the Coughlin kid, but the jacket is a symbol of excellence.The Lettermen’s Club and the school Athletic Council have adopted a zero-tolerance policy on this.”I’m speechless a second; it doesn’t fit that a grown man could be that dumb.I say, “What do the Lettermen’s Club and the Athletic Council have to do with making school policy? They have an administration for that.They have a school board.”“That’s true, Jones.But in case you haven’t noticed, Cutter High School lives and dies on its athletic reputation.Eighty or ninety percent of the respect shown this school is for its athletic accomplishments.”“Shown by who?”“By other schools, by townspeople who vote on tax levies and make other kinds of financial contributions.Believe me, Jones, the athletic department in this school has plenty of power—which, by the way, you could have shared in, had you had any school spirit.You could be wearing one of these jackets, Jones.”“Coach, I wouldn’t wear the same brand of underwear Mike Barbour wears.” This seems like a good time to back out of this conversation, so as not to tip my hand.I say, “I don’t know if you heard Barbour correctly a minute ago, but he said he saw Chris wearing Brian’s jacket in a bowling alley.That’s completely away from school.Any chance we can keep this zero-tolerance thing confined to the grounds?”I don’t wait for the answer, just pick up my backpack and head across the lunchroom.Coach Benson is an interesting case.Things are black and white with him.He can’t understand why I won’t play football and basketball for Cutter.I sat down and explained it to him once, told him how ugly I get when people start yelling and telling me what to do, but he said I was immature, that someday I would look back and regret not giving what I had to my school.He’s not the real enemy here.You have to admire the consistency in his life.He played three sports here at Cutter, was a standout defensive back at a small college in Montana, and came right back here to coach.He married his college sweetheart, and they’ve been together since.He goes to church, takes charge when any family in town experiences a crisis.I mean, you can’t dislike the guy, even when he blurts out his “zero-tolerance” policy on letter jackets.On the other hand, what kind of person has time to dream up a zero-tolerance policy on letter jackets?After school I catch up with Chris again.Actually, he catches up with me hanging out in the journalism room trying to outsmart the Internet controls the school puts on to keep us on the straight and narrow as we travel the information highway.I’ve just typed in “chicken breasts,” hoping the browser will spit back a little bit about chickens and a whole lot about breasts.“What are you doing?”I swivel in the computer chair; Chris is staring at the screen.“Medical research,” I say, clicking Exit [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.”He laughs.When Chris is out of earshot, I turn back to Barbour.“I caught him wearing his brother’s jacket again at the bowling alley last night,” Barbour says.“What kind of pride can we have if—”I say, “Coach, I don’t want to be disrespectful with the language again, so I might need a little help with this.What’s an acceptable term for chickenshit?”“You’re on thin ice, Jones.”I take a deep breath.Even Benson has to be reasonable on this one, if I don’t push him any further into Barbour’s camp.“Okay, what’s an acceptable term for a big-time football hero who’s threatened by a brain-damaged kid so scared he can barely make it through a school day without hyperventilating himself into unconsciousness, wearing his dead brother’s letter jacket because it’s the only thing that gives him any connection to his brother and therefore to this school?”Coach scratches his chin.Interesting how you can say almost anything you want as long as you don’t say shit or fuck or any word derivative thereof.I’m getting a handle on the communication thing.He says, “I’ll admit it’s a different situation with the Coughlin kid, but the jacket is a symbol of excellence.The Lettermen’s Club and the school Athletic Council have adopted a zero-tolerance policy on this.”I’m speechless a second; it doesn’t fit that a grown man could be that dumb.I say, “What do the Lettermen’s Club and the Athletic Council have to do with making school policy? They have an administration for that.They have a school board.”“That’s true, Jones.But in case you haven’t noticed, Cutter High School lives and dies on its athletic reputation.Eighty or ninety percent of the respect shown this school is for its athletic accomplishments.”“Shown by who?”“By other schools, by townspeople who vote on tax levies and make other kinds of financial contributions.Believe me, Jones, the athletic department in this school has plenty of power—which, by the way, you could have shared in, had you had any school spirit.You could be wearing one of these jackets, Jones.”“Coach, I wouldn’t wear the same brand of underwear Mike Barbour wears.” This seems like a good time to back out of this conversation, so as not to tip my hand.I say, “I don’t know if you heard Barbour correctly a minute ago, but he said he saw Chris wearing Brian’s jacket in a bowling alley.That’s completely away from school.Any chance we can keep this zero-tolerance thing confined to the grounds?”I don’t wait for the answer, just pick up my backpack and head across the lunchroom.Coach Benson is an interesting case.Things are black and white with him.He can’t understand why I won’t play football and basketball for Cutter.I sat down and explained it to him once, told him how ugly I get when people start yelling and telling me what to do, but he said I was immature, that someday I would look back and regret not giving what I had to my school.He’s not the real enemy here.You have to admire the consistency in his life.He played three sports here at Cutter, was a standout defensive back at a small college in Montana, and came right back here to coach.He married his college sweetheart, and they’ve been together since.He goes to church, takes charge when any family in town experiences a crisis.I mean, you can’t dislike the guy, even when he blurts out his “zero-tolerance” policy on letter jackets.On the other hand, what kind of person has time to dream up a zero-tolerance policy on letter jackets?After school I catch up with Chris again.Actually, he catches up with me hanging out in the journalism room trying to outsmart the Internet controls the school puts on to keep us on the straight and narrow as we travel the information highway.I’ve just typed in “chicken breasts,” hoping the browser will spit back a little bit about chickens and a whole lot about breasts.“What are you doing?”I swivel in the computer chair; Chris is staring at the screen.“Medical research,” I say, clicking Exit [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]