Carhops

CARHOPS - Chapter 9

 

Copyright 2017  by Nick Brady, all rights reserved. 

 

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It was 1954, a new year. It would be a year of change. 

 

On May 17, the Supreme Court of the United States unanimously ruled that separate educational facilities were inherently unequal. As a result, racial segregation was ruled a violation of the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution. 

 

In simple terms, this meant that separate schools for whites and coloreds would have to be integrated. The times were changing, and the effect on small communities like ours was hotly debated. 

 

There was an accepted division of the races here. We had our part of town, and colored folks had theirs. We had our schools, and they had theirs. It had always been that way. But now, it looked like that was to change. It was no longer a question of if this was to happen, but when and more importantly, how?

 

The city council and the school board searched for a solution that would smooth this transition. Although Watalekee was segregated just as were all the cities and towns in Oklahoma, we had not experienced any serious racial strife. What would bring us together as one community, especially in regards to our schools? After much discussion and soul searching, one thing stood out. We all loved football.

 

After much debate, it was decided first to integrate the school sports programs. Both schools had a basketball team. More recently, both schools now had a football team. Only the Tigers had a baseball program, but there were likely talented players in the colored part of town. The theory was that if we could learn to cheer for an integrated sports team, we would be more likely to accept an integrated school. 

 

In the 1954-1955 school year, the sports programs would be integrated. In the 1955-1956 school year, the schools would be integrated. The decision was not unanimous, but it passed. Now the question was just how to make this work. Wisely, the details were left up to the school administrators and the coaches.

 

As soon as school was out for the summer, a meeting was held to iron out a plan. The first step was to hold a joint session with the athletes and their families from both schools. The sight of the mix of races mingling together on the football field was unusual. I quietly joined them on the sidelines.

 

Joe Johnson, the Superintendent of Schools for Watalekee, stood and spoke to the group. "I want to welcome all of you today. As I'm sure you know, we are looking to integrate our school system. While there may be some who have problems with this, it is now the law of the land, and we must comply. If there is one thing that can unify the people of this town, it is our shared love of sports. For this reason, we plan to integrate our sports teams first, beginning with the coming school year. In the following year, we will combine our school systems. I know that you young men love and respect sports. I am asking you to put that same respect above any personal differences you might have with your teammates. If any of you have misgivings about combining our programs, I ask you to put those aside for the benefit not only for our teams but our community.

 

“Roger Thompson will continue as the head coach for the Tiger football team. Tyrone Walker of the Panthers has agreed to serve as his assistant. Both of these men are excellent coaches and will provide great leadership for our team. I have asked Coach Thompson to explain our plans for the coming season. Coach Thompson?”

 

Coach Thompson spoke up. "Good morning. The first thing I want you to know is that Coach Walker and I have talked at length, and are in agreement about the plan I'm going to present to you. He is a talented coach and a fine man. I look forward to working with him. 

 

"Beginning on Monday, This town will have only one football team composed of athletes from both schools. For the next two weeks, we practice as one team. You will learn to work together and come to know each other as individuals, and we will come to know you. After the first two weeks, we will create two rosters, one for the primary starters, and another for a secondary group of players. The individuals selected to fill these positions will be chosen based on their talent. Race must not be a factor in this. What this will mean is that some of you may have to yield the position you previously held to another athlete, perhaps of a different color. I know this may be difficult, but we want to be able to field the strongest team we possibly can. 

 

"I want you to understand that the decision regarding primary and secondary players will be made jointly by Coach Walker and myself alone. We will consider advice from the other men who assist with this program, but the final decision will be ours. For this reason, if any of you have a problem with that decision, your problem will be with us, not with the person we selected. If you are not willing to abide by our decision you are free to leave the team. If there are personal conflicts which result from our decision, then you may be disciplined, and possibly dismissed. 

 

"Now it is my pleasure to introduce Coach Walker. For those who do not know him, he grew up here in Watalekee and went on to the University of Illinois where he played for the football team as a walk-on. While there, he majored in Physical Science with a minor in Sports Administration. Frankly, his credentials are better than mine and his education more recent. I have no doubt that he could have secured a much more lucrative position elsewhere but has come back to his hometown to build up the sports program and the community. We are privileged to have him with us. Coach Walker?"

 

Coach Tyrone Walker was a young black man of medium height and athletic build. He stood and addressed the group. "Thank you, Coach Thompson. I look forward to working with you. I don't have a lot to say today except that you should know that I'm part this community, and I love the sport of football. We have some excellent athletes on both sides of town, and if we can work together, I think we can have a winning team. I look forward to bringing home a conference championship next year. We need all of you to accomplish that. Thank you." 

 

He sat down, and someone started to clap. After a brief pause, the others joined in. It appeared that Coach Walker was accepted.

 

“What did you think about the meeting?” I asked Henry the next day.

 

“I thought it went pretty well,” he said. “We'll see what happens when practice starts.” 

 

“You'll be starting for the Tigers when school starts,” I told Henry.

 

“I don't know about that. I'll just be a freshman.”

 

“If team selection is based on the tryouts, you'll have as good a chance as anybody,” I reminded him.

 

Henry nodded his head. “We'll see,” was all he would say.

 

I rode over to the field every morning to watch the practices, as did a lot of interested townspeople. The players endured a lot of physical training. Calisthenics, wind sprints and endless drills were the order of the day. I was glad I wasn't on the team. It was hard for some of the guys who had gotten lazy since the last season. There was a lot of huffing and puffing, and a few guys puked on the sidelines. Henry was not one of them. He looked good.

 

We got together on Sunday afternoon at my apartment. “How did it go?” I asked.

 

“I did OK, I think,” Henry said.

 

“You didn't puke.”

 

“No,” Henry admitted, “I didn't do that.”

 

“I was there, Henry. You looked great. I bet you make the first team.”

 

“We'll see,” he said modestly, but he smiled.

 

I was there the next week when they ran hundred yard dashes. They had endurance drills. The coaches were working them hard. If Henry was not the fastest guy on the team, he was very close. Probably the fastest runner was Eddie, the boy who had been the Panther quarterback. The athletes were broken up into two groups and played scrimmages against each other. There were passing drills, and Henry missed very few of the balls thrown to him. Things were getting interesting.

 

At the end of the second week, the coach told them that on the coming Monday, the first and second string teams would be announced. Of the boys who had begun the trial period, a number had already dropped out.

 

“You're a shoo-in,” I told Henry.

 

“I don't know. I wish I had your confidence,” he said.

 

I was in the stands on Monday. There was a fair crowd of interested spectators from both parts of town. The aspirants assembled in a group facing Coaches Thompson and Walker. We could hear Coach Thompson as he addressed the group.

 

“I want to thank all of you who have worked so hard over the past two weeks,” he said. “I know that you are all anxious to learn of our decision, so we will not waste your time with any further remarks. We have selected a group of starters who will be our first string. When I call your names, I want you to assemble on my right.” 

 

He began to call out names. Not surprisingly, most were from the former Tiger team. They were good athletes and had the benefit of experience. Besides, there were more of them; making it likely that the team would be mainly white. But among those selected was Eddie, the Panther quarterback, Charlie, one of the running backs, and a big colored boy named Devon who was selected as the Tiger center. Next, the coach announced the second string. Three more from the Panther team were chosen, and Henry was one of them. I quietly cheered and pumped my fist into the air. Henry glanced up at me and smiled as he walked to the group on the coaches left.

 

Coach Walker spoke next. "Those of you who were not selected are still part of the team. I thank you for your effort and promise that you will still have a chance to play. We will experience injuries. Some of our initial selections may not work as expected. We need you to be our reserve to back up those we have selected today. Don't give up, guys. We want you to stay with us. Thank you."

 

The two groups then scrimmaged with each other. Spirits seemed to be high. To my eye, neither group was significantly superior. Of course, my eye was always on Henry. It had been a year since we first met, and he was taller and stronger. Lean, fast and agile, when thrown a pass he picked it out of the air with sure hands and ran through the first string defenders like a long-legged cat. When he was not able to receive a pass thrown to him, it was usually because the second string quarterback threw it short or long. 

 

I wondered why Henry was not in the group of starters and decided that being a freshman next year must have something to do with it. But he would be able to play in the games, and when that happened, his talent would be obvious. I had confidence in my friend.

 

“You should be a starter,” I told Henry. 

 

“The coaches decided on the teams,” he reminded me. “They know what they're doing.”

 

“You'll be on the first string by the third game,” I predicted.

 

Henry smiled but didn't reply. 

 

I was a regular in the stands when the new Tiger team practiced. Henry was working hard. He was first in the sprints and threw himself into the exercises with a passion. Both teams had to learn all the standard plays, and some new ones concocted by the coaches that were entirely original. They ran endless drills. Playbooks were handed out, and they were told to memorize them. Football had homework. When I wasn't at the stadium, I was in the library.

 

Henry was up early every morning running two miles with a can of beans in each hand. After breakfast, he was at football practice. After practice, Henry was memorizing the playbook. He was compulsive about it. He had no free time, at least not for me. Friday afternoon, I rode to his house to find him stretched out on his bed asleep with the playbook on his chest. 

 

I sat down on his bed and ran my hand over his short curly hair. He slowly opened his eyes. “Hi, Jimmy.”

 

“You look awfully tired. Maybe you've been working too hard.”

 

“I'm OK. I got to do this, Jimmy.”

 

“Do what? Kill yourself?” I was worried about him.

 

He sat up and stretched. “I have to get in shape. It's really important.”

 

“I know you love football, but you'll wear yourself out at this rate. What's going on?” I asked.

 

“After last week, the coaches had a little talk with me,” Henry explained. 

 

“What kind of talk? I thought you were doing good.”

 

"Oh, I'm not in trouble or anything. In fact, they were very encouraging and said I had talent.""I knew that. What else did they say?"

 

Henry smiled, “They said that if I developed like they thought that I could, I might be good enough to get a college scholarship. I never dreamed that I could go to college. I need to work really hard.”

 

"Ah! So that's why you're working so hard. You need to take it easy, Henry. You could hurt yourself."

 

Henry shrugged. “It's just exercise. It will make me stronger.”

 

“I guess, but I worry about you. You can overdo this kind of thing, you know.

 

“Not really,” Henry wasn't convinced.

 

"Yes, you can. When you train too hard, you can strain your muscles. You have to let them rest so you can recoup. You can get so tired that it'll slow you down," I argued. "It will affect your performance."

 

“How do you know all this?”

 

"I can read. I'm a nerd, remember? There are books in the library about this kind of thing,"

 

Henry had a confused look on his face. “But Coach Thompson said I should work hard.”

 

“I'm not saying you should dog it. I'm just saying that you can't do everything at once,” I told him. What you need is a training program.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“That's when you do one kind of thing one day and another thing the next. Like weight training on even days and running on odd days, or something like that.”

 

Henry gave me a straight look. “Did your book tell me how to do that?”

 

“Not really, but that's the idea. I'm not a coach or a trainer,” I admitted, “but it's still good advice.”

 

“Suppose you're right? How do I do this?” 

 

I thought for a moment. "If I were you, I would ask Coach Walker. Tell him that you want to get yourself in the best shape you can for football season, but you don't want to overtrain and hurt yourself. Ask him what he thinks about a training program. See what he says."

 

Henry nodded slowly. “I guess I could do that.”

 

“It can't hurt,” I said. “Coach Walker is right out of college and probably knows a lot about this kind of thing. He will know if anybody does. Ask him, Henry.”

 

Henry looked at me seriously then started to laugh. “I think maybe I should call you Coach Jimmy.”

 

“I'm just trying to help,” I said.

 

"I know, and you are helping," Henry said. "I'm so busy trying to do everything at once that I'm probably not thinking straight. Maybe I need a nerd to point me in the right direction. Thanks, Jimmy."

 

“Maybe you need to take a little break from football and relax for awhile,” I grinned.

 

“What did you have in mind?”

 

“It's been a long time since we went fishing. Do you think you remember how?”

 

Henry frowned. "I can't do it tomorrow. We have a big session to work on the playbook tomorrow afternoon. We could go Sunday afternoon."

 

“Sure. Don't even take a fishing pole. I just want to spend some time with you,” I said.

 

Sunday after church we met at the road to Turner and rode out to the creek with the cedar grove. We parked our bikes at the old circle of trees and made our way down the hill to the little stream.

 

“I'm sorry. I guess I've been neglecting you, haven't I?” Henry admitted.

 

“I understand, Henry. You've been busy with football, and that's important to you. I have missed seeing you though.”

 

“I am, but you're important too. I can't neglect my best friend.”

 

I pulled off my shirt and wiped the sweat from my face with it. "It's hot today. What do you think about falling in the creek?"

 

Henry looked up and down. "I don't know. I forgot to bring my swimsuit."

 

“Since when did that stop us?”

 

“I will if you will,” Henry grinned.

 

I shucked my pants and waded into the creek. “Last one in is a rotten egg!”

 

In a moment Henry followed me. “Whoa! The water's cold!”

 

"That's the idea!" I pounced on him and unsuccessfully tried to pull him under. I found myself underwater and came up sputtering. On impulse, I quickly grabbed his testicles and held on tight. "Gotcha!"

 

Henry started to jerk back and then thought better of it. “Careful, there! I'm using those.”

 

'Hold still then," I said and ducked under the water to inspect my new possession. It looked beautiful in the clear water. Above my hand floated a long black sausage which I took in my mouth and felt it began to swell.

 

“I'm using that too,” Henry said when I surfaced, “but you can borrow it if you like.”

 

“Say you're sorry for dunking me,” I grinned, tightening my grip on his balls.

 

“You started it,” Henry reminded me. “But if you ask me real nice, I'll apologize anyway, since you have me by the balls, as the expression goes.”

 

I let go of his nuts and wrapped my arms around him. "Apology accepted. And you're right. I did start it. It was a big mistake on my part to pounce on a handsome football stud, but I just couldn't help myself."

 

Henry held me tight. “You're right about one thing. I have neglected you, Jimmy. I do apologize for that.”

 

I moved my hand to his cock and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Apology accepted. Let's make up for lost time, OK?”

 

Henry leaned over and kissed me. Not a frantic kiss in the midst of passion, but a slow, deliberate kiss. We were back on the same team. We gathered up our clothes and walked back up the hill to the cedar grove where we lay down on the quilt and made up for lost time. Nothing too heavy, just an exchange of blowjobs and body fluids. It was slow, deliberate and very sweet.

 

Monday after football practice I waited for Henry to get out of the showers. He had a big smile on his face. “Would you like a job?”

 

“What kind of a job?”

 

“The coach said we need a team manager when the season starts. You interested?”

 

“That sounds impressive. What does a team manager do?”

 

Henry laughed, “Basically clean up after the team – wash the uniforms, pick up the locker room, pack stuff up when we travel – that kind of thing.”

 

"A real glamor job, huh?"

 

“Henry shrugged, “It won't be so bad. Some of the guys will help you, and you get to sit with the team during the games. Plus, you get to travel with us to away games. You'll be part of the team.”

 

“Really? That does sound like fun,” I agreed.

 

“At least we would see more of each other. What do you think?”

 

What do I have to do? I would love to be the team manager.”

 

"Talk to coach Thompson. Tell him that you understand that the team needs a manager and you want the position. Say you want it and will do a good job," Henry suggested. "I think the job will go to the person who wants it the most."

 

“All I can do is try,” I said. “Is the coach still here? I'll ask him right now.”

 

“He's inside the locker room. Take a deep breath, think about what you want to say, and go talk to him.”

 

I walked over to the locker room entrance underneath the stadium, thinking carefully about what I would say. When I went inside, I smelled the odor of stale sweat, analgesic balm, and humidity from the shower. I saw both coaches picking up towels and trash from the floor. I picked up what was between the door and the coaches as I approached them.

 

“It looks like you could use some help,” I said as I placed the towels on one of the benches and tossed the trash into a barrel. “Have you thought about getting someone to be the team manager?”

 

Both coaches turned to look at me and smiled. “We were just talking about that,” Coach Thompson said. “Do you know what a manager does?”

 

I looked them in the eye and spoke up firmly. “Yes, sir. He would keep the locker room picked up and wash the uniforms. He would mop up after the practice and try to make this place smell better. I think I could do that.”

 

"It's a lot of work," Coach Walker said. "Why would you want to take that on?"

 

I spread out my arms. “Look at me. I'm too small to have a chance to play, but I love the sport of football. This would be a way for me to be a part of the team. I would be willing to work very hard. I hope you will consider me for the job.”

 

Coach Thompson looked at me and smiled. “What's your name, son?”  

 

“I'm Jimmy McKenna,” I said and offered him my hand. 

 

He shook my hand and said, “I'll remember your offer, Jimmy. We may get in touch with you.”

 

I thanked them and walked out. They hadn't said no.

 

Henry was sitting on the sidelines and smiled when he saw me leave the locker room. “How did it go?” he asked when I walked up to him.

 

“I don't know,” I admitted. “I'll have to wait and see, I guess. I gave it my best shot.”

 

“That's all you can do,” Henry clapped me on the shoulder.

 

We parted and rode off in different directions. I needed to get home and tell Mom that I might have a new responsibility. I figured that she would approve.

 

“I think that's nice,” she said after I explained what I had volunteered for. “I hope they chose you for the job.”  I had been blessed. Now to see what happened.

 

I hung out at the stadium every day when the team practiced. I didn't talk to the coaches again, but I think they noticed that I was there. I hoped that they felt my presence had more to do with my interest in the team rather than my interest in Henry. Anyway, I was there every day. On the following Monday, Coach Walker caught my eye and waved me over.

 

“Are you still interested in being the team manager?” he asked.

 

"Yes, sir. Very much," I replied.

 

“Why don't you come in the locker room so we can talk to you about what your responsibilities will be.”

 

I resisted the urge to pump my fist in the air and followed him inside.  He showed me the washer and dryer, the cabinet with the laundry soap,  the brooms, mops, and disinfectant. I was instructed to gather up all the towels and wash them every day, and the practice uniforms once a week. Once the season started, I had to wash the game uniforms, and be sure that they went back to the right player. That meant that I had to know the jersey number for each player, both the starters and the second string. If one of the scrubs was called into play, he would quickly swap jerseys with a player who was off the field. It was a lot to remember and would be a lot of work, but I was part of the team.

 

I started right then, picking up, sweeping and mopping until the lingering odor improved somewhat. All the towels needed to be washed, dried and folded, This was to be a daily routine. On Friday I washed all the practice uniforms and laid them out for the next week of practice. Henry helped me and recruited a couple of the other freshmen to pitch in with the laundry. It was working. Neither of the coaches said anything to me which I took to mean that I was doing OK. 

 

One of the fringe benefits of my new job was being in the locker room when the athletes showered each day after practice. The sight of thirty young guys parading around naked, flipping each other with towels and horsing around was, to say the least, stimulating. I forced myself to avoid staring and went about my chores with a feigned air of indifference. 

 

After working together for a month now, everyone was getting along quite well. There seemed to be no friction between the white and colored players, at least so far. When the regular season started, I was hopeful that this would continue. Over the summer, there were a few adjustments made to the roster, as two of the starters were replaced with guys from the secondary, and one of the scrubs was promoted to the second string. Henry remained on the secondary, although he impressed me as one of the better players.

 

Sunday afternoons were for Henry and me to spend a little time together. The location of choice was in my apartment, made more convenient because my mother was at work. Henry rode over on his bike after church when Mom left for the restaurant. A year ago he might have hesitated to come into my part of town. Now, it had become less of a concern due to the integration of the football teams during summer practice. Nevertheless, we stayed inside, mostly in my bedroom.

 

“Are you sure this is safe?” Henry asked as we snuggled together naked on my bed. “What if your mother comes home early?”

 

“She doesn't get off work until late,” I assured him. “Besides, I locked the bedroom door just in case.”

 

Henry sighed. “I don't know, Jimmy. I am so afraid that someone will find out that we do this sexual stuff. It could get us in terrible trouble.”

 

“No one has to know. We've been careful.”

 

Henry shook his head. “I hope not, but I have everything riding on playing football and trying to get a scholarship. I could lose all that.”

 

I was silent for a minute. “It wouldn't be all that great for either of us, Henry. This is about me, too.”

 

“I'm sorry. Of course, it is. I just don't know what to do," Henry said. "How am I going to go through high school and then college without somebody finding out about me? This isn't going to go away, Jimmy. I don't think we're going to get over this."

 

“I'm not going to change, and this isn't going to go away," I said. "I don't want anybody to find out, but I don't know what to do besides be careful. I guess we could decide never be together again, but I don't want to do that."

 

“What other choice do we have?” Henry asked.

 

“Probably none," I grinned, "but we are safe here. Can we discuss this later?" I rubbed Henry's firm stomach, and he smiled at me.

 

“You sure know how to change the subject,” Henry said.

 

I turned onto my side and looked at Henry stretched out beside me.  In the past year, my friend had grown. He was taller now and much more muscular. The football program and all the physical training was bulking him up. He was still very lean. There wasn't an ounce of fat on his long body, but he had a lot more muscle. His smooth skin was black and shining. He was a beautiful young man. Next to him, I felt like a runt.

 

I sighed, "I'm trying to be serious, but I can't think of anything else but being here with you. I know what I want to do right now, and it's not talking." 

 

I put my hand on Henry's chest and felt of his firm pecs, ran it over the round shoulders and down his muscular arm. I ran my hand down over his flat stomach and traced the treasure trail of fine black hair down to his bush of curly pubes. His cock reacted by beginning to rise. 

 

He took a deep breath and looked at me. “Oh, Jimmy,” he sighed.

 

I rose up and moved to straddle his muscular thighs and press my balls against his, our cocks touched, and I took both of them in my hand. We were both hard now, and his cock dwarfed mine. I might have grown slightly beyond the five inches I had the summer before, but his six inches was now closer to eight. Our foreskins were retracted partly, exposing the heads. My cock was white as porcelain, his as black as ebony. My cock head was bright pink, his a rusty brown. I squeezed them together, causing him to squirm.

 

Henry looked down and ran his fingers through his black curly pubic hair, then touch my blond bush. “We're kind of like salt and pepper, aren't we,” he chuckled.

 

I smiled at him and moved up so that the ends of our dicks were aligned, placed my balls against the base of his cock and began stroking them up and down in my hand. "Do you like that?" I asked.

 

“Oh, yes," he sighed and ran his hands over my body. "You're beautiful, Jimmy. Do you know that?"

 

“Next to you, I look like a shrimp,” I laughed.

 

“No. Not at all. You're perfect just like you are,” he said. “It would be boring if we looked the same. I like it that we're different. We're very different in some ways and just the same in others.” 

 

He passed his hands over my arms as I continued stroking us both, our cocks moving over each other. The sight of this was very erotic. I could feel the cum rising in my balls. "I could get off this way," I said.

 

“Go ahead. I like to watch. This is something new,” Henry said.

 

“There must be a million ways to get off with you. I'd like to try them all.”

 

“Me too. I love to make love to you, Jimmy. I never get tired of this,” he pulled at my arms, and I lay down on top of Henry, feeling his hard body against mine. He wrapped his arms around me, pressing our cocks together between us. 

 

Then he kissed me and ran his hands over my back and ass as I humped against him. He moved his hips from side to side creating wonderful sensations. We held each other tight, and our kisses grew more passionate.

 

We were both exuding pre-cum, and the space between us grew slippery. I got that breathless feeling again and held him tighter. I could feel the firm muscles in his chest pressing against me, felt his big cock pushing against my stomach, felt the muscles in his shoulders flex under my hands. The motion was intense, then I felt the hot cum spurt out of his cock and coat our bellies. That triggered my own, and I emptied myself between us.

 

We pressed our open mouths together and panted as we came together simultaneously. It was very intense.

 

“Oh my Lord,” Henry gasped. “I just can't let go of you, no matter what happens.”

 

I pressed my mouth to Henry's ear and dared to whisper, "I love you, Henry."

 

“I know. I love you too,” he said. “I just can't help it.”

 

We held each other for a long time, feeling our rigid cocks soften, feeling the slippery ooze between us drip slowly down Henry's sides. Then I lifted myself away from him and looked down at the mess we had made.

 

“I need to get us something,” I giggled.

 

“We made a mess," Henry admitted and tried to scoop the cum away from my bedspread.

 

I grabbed my undershorts and wiped first our stomachs, then the bedspread. “It's not the first time I have made a mess on my bed. Don't worry about it.”

 

“Who else has made a mess on your bed?” Henry asked.

 

“Just me, silly. Mostly by thinking about you."

 

“Oh. In that case, let me help you.”

 

We straightened up the bed then went into the bathroom to clean ourselves up. We fixed a sandwich in the kitchen and made some small talk; then Henry left to ride home before it got dark. 

 

Our worlds had changed forever and would become even closer when football season began.

 

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To be continued.

 

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