After a few days rest and no posting, I'm feeling refreshed and ready to present more insights, thoughts and stories.
The following is a story I submitted to the University of Saint Francis literary magazine, Apostrophe, published in 2007. It's entitled "Fan Bus." Being a big fan of college football, I felt the need to write about our football team when it made yet another appearance at the NAIA National Championship in Savannah, TN. Three trips to the "big show" and unfortunately, no championship to be had. Apparently good guys finish last. It's somewhat long, so I'll be posting this story in segments. Enjoy.
"There it was: a white, gleaming, metal box on wheels. The word "Excursions" blazoned on its sides bedizened with fancy, colorful stripes of blues, yellows, greens and reds. The Fan Bus.
It looked like a small tornado had ripped through the parking lot in front of Doermer the way people were milling around, objects strewn haphazardly here and there. Until you realized they were just making preparations for the trip: small groups of people congregating, others lugging bags filled with their belongings, coolers filled with drinks and goodies, taking them out of the trunks of cars and into the cargo holds of the bus, others handing out bottled water and sandwiches, TV crew off in a corner interviewing the locals. TV crew?
For the third consecutive year the Saint Francis football team had achieved the impossible: punching their ticket to yet another National Championship appearance in Savannah, TN. This wasn't just any ol' fan bus. This was a bus filled with high hopes and dreams and wishes. After all this was our year, third time's the charm and all that. It was our destiny. The Championship would be ours! All we had to do was show up.
The news crew made their way inside the bus. People ducked behind seats. No way they'd get snagged for an interview, let alone appear on local tv! My wife, bubbly and always talkative, didn't even flinch when the newscaster asked if he could interview her. The camera guy flipped a switch and the lights came on. The newscaster stepped aside as he shoved a microphone in her face: how do we feel, what were our hopes for a championship, were emotions running high, how does this affect the school...? Standard questions. I don't remember what exactly she said, but she was calm and collected, yet at the same time excited to be there and the circumstances surrounding the event. She made us all look good.
Almost time for us to go. Jan Patterson is on the PA holding a clipboard, going through roll-call. Tensions mount. Let's roll! The bus driver shuts the door, releases the brake and we slowly roll out of the parking lot. The news camera guy had positioned himself along the entrance of the parking lot, wanting to get a shot of our departure. I hurriedly reached into my backpack for my Saint Francis baseball cap and waved it for the camera. Like an idiot I was pointing to the "SF" on the front of it. As if anyone would see - we were behind tinted windows.
This time the bus driver comes on the PA saying she's obligated to play a video for our safety's sake, and to please pay attention to the monitors in front of us. Protocol. I half expected to see a flight attendant going through the motions: index and middle fingers of both hands smartly pointing down the aisle, indicating the route to the emergency exit doors, clicking and releasing seat belt buckles and grabbing a hold of the oxygen mask and placing it over her face "in the event of sudden cabin decompression." What safety features? It's a bus! I chuckled to myself while nervously taking note of the lone door from whence we came and looked at the overhead. No need for oxygen masks on this trip...
We settled down to eat our packed lunch: ham and cheese sandwich with lettuce and tomato, and a chocolate chip cookie. I overheard some in the back saying "I don't like lettuce," or "you gonna eat your tomatoes?" or "here, you can have mine..." Exchanges and comparisons of the delights before us. Someone actually said "I'll take your chocolate chip cookie if you don't want it." I looked at my cookie. "Ain't touching my chocolate chip cookie," I thought. Instinctively I huddled closer to my tray, briefly looking over my shoulder."
Stay tuned for the next segment…
"There it was: a white, gleaming, metal box on wheels. The word "Excursions" blazoned on its sides bedizened with fancy, colorful stripes of blues, yellows, greens and reds. The Fan Bus.
It looked like a small tornado had ripped through the parking lot in front of Doermer the way people were milling around, objects strewn haphazardly here and there. Until you realized they were just making preparations for the trip: small groups of people congregating, others lugging bags filled with their belongings, coolers filled with drinks and goodies, taking them out of the trunks of cars and into the cargo holds of the bus, others handing out bottled water and sandwiches, TV crew off in a corner interviewing the locals. TV crew?
For the third consecutive year the Saint Francis football team had achieved the impossible: punching their ticket to yet another National Championship appearance in Savannah, TN. This wasn't just any ol' fan bus. This was a bus filled with high hopes and dreams and wishes. After all this was our year, third time's the charm and all that. It was our destiny. The Championship would be ours! All we had to do was show up.
The news crew made their way inside the bus. People ducked behind seats. No way they'd get snagged for an interview, let alone appear on local tv! My wife, bubbly and always talkative, didn't even flinch when the newscaster asked if he could interview her. The camera guy flipped a switch and the lights came on. The newscaster stepped aside as he shoved a microphone in her face: how do we feel, what were our hopes for a championship, were emotions running high, how does this affect the school...? Standard questions. I don't remember what exactly she said, but she was calm and collected, yet at the same time excited to be there and the circumstances surrounding the event. She made us all look good.
Almost time for us to go. Jan Patterson is on the PA holding a clipboard, going through roll-call. Tensions mount. Let's roll! The bus driver shuts the door, releases the brake and we slowly roll out of the parking lot. The news camera guy had positioned himself along the entrance of the parking lot, wanting to get a shot of our departure. I hurriedly reached into my backpack for my Saint Francis baseball cap and waved it for the camera. Like an idiot I was pointing to the "SF" on the front of it. As if anyone would see - we were behind tinted windows.
This time the bus driver comes on the PA saying she's obligated to play a video for our safety's sake, and to please pay attention to the monitors in front of us. Protocol. I half expected to see a flight attendant going through the motions: index and middle fingers of both hands smartly pointing down the aisle, indicating the route to the emergency exit doors, clicking and releasing seat belt buckles and grabbing a hold of the oxygen mask and placing it over her face "in the event of sudden cabin decompression." What safety features? It's a bus! I chuckled to myself while nervously taking note of the lone door from whence we came and looked at the overhead. No need for oxygen masks on this trip...
We settled down to eat our packed lunch: ham and cheese sandwich with lettuce and tomato, and a chocolate chip cookie. I overheard some in the back saying "I don't like lettuce," or "you gonna eat your tomatoes?" or "here, you can have mine..." Exchanges and comparisons of the delights before us. Someone actually said "I'll take your chocolate chip cookie if you don't want it." I looked at my cookie. "Ain't touching my chocolate chip cookie," I thought. Instinctively I huddled closer to my tray, briefly looking over my shoulder."
Stay tuned for the next segment…
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