The Life and times of Drew Hummell Anderson 2/?
Tags: author: hardy1234, blaine/kurt, media: fanfiction, rating: pg-13
“Drew Hummell Anderson, can we please see you in the study?”
First of all, I hate when my Dads try to act ‘parent like’. It really doesn’t suit them.
My sarcasm, it’s a curse and a blessing. The last time Daddy Kurt was trying to lecture me I couldn’t help myself.
“Please, Dad. It’s like your auditioning for the role of the authority figure.”
That little remark cost me my computer privileges revoked for two weeks.
Papa Blaine couldn’t suppress a chuckle and muttered “It’s like seeing your mirror image, Kurt.” Somehow I sense that Papa got some privileges taken away that week too because he looked none too happy afterwards, if you know what I mean; once again, I’m a screwed up kid.
Back to the present:
“What is this?”
“My football jersey. God, do you pilfer through all my clothes, what happened to privacy?"
Whoever said that the best defense was an offense is just spouting a bunch of crock. Daddy Kurt never gets distracted once he gets focused on a subject.
“Don’t change the subject Drew, WHY do you have a football jersey?”
“I joined the football team.”
“Football?” gasped Daddy Kurt.
“Football!’ yelled out Papa Blaine.
Somehow Papa’s reaction didn’t please Daddy.
“Blaine, he lied to us. He joined the team without telling either one of us. Obviously he forged our signature to get permission to do that. Are you endorsing this kind of behavior, this flaunting of our parental authority?”
Papa Blaine looked properly chagrined.
“Drew, what you did is wrong, very wrong. Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Well, you both were out of town at the time of tryouts and one of the coaches said I was a natural and that I had a great shot at the position. Uncle Finn was down that weekend and he signed the slips, and technically he was my guardian that week.”
“I just knew this reeked of Finn!” snapped Daddy Kurt. “He’s nothing but an overgrown football player himself who wants to live vicariously through Drew!”
Papa Blaine seemed a little distracted, unlike Daddy, it’s easier to get him off track. “Did you say the coach thought you were a natural?”
“So what role are you auditioning for, Drew?” inquired Daddy Kurt trying to regain his disciplinarian foothold.
Hugh Jackman as Peter Allen in Gridiron, the musical?
Ok, I may be sarcastic but I’m not brain dead. I know that I would be grounded for life if I touched that one with a ten foot pole.
Instead I took a deep breath and answered as calmly as I could.
“I tried out and made starting quarterback.”
Papa Blaine was trying so hard to contain his enthusiasm it wasn’t even funny. “Did you say starting Quarterback or backup Quarterback?”
“Oh Papa, would I be an Anderson if I didn’t make starting Quarterback?” I flashed a smile at Papa and gave him my best puppy dog eyes look.
“That’s my boy! The next Quarterback for the Ohio State Buckeyes, hell yea!” Papa high fived me and was leaping in the air. I tell ya, Papa’s energy can be breathtaking.
Daddy Kurt looked aghast and called out, “Do I have two children in the house?”
The super power of pouting in tandem, well Papa and I did it with Daddy in making him see how my being on the football team would give me a more varied resume down the line for getting into to NYADA. I’m young, I can dream big. Hell, I can be both a NFL starting quarterback and headline a Broadway show by age thirty.
It was time to pull out all the stops.
“Daddy, Grandpa Burt told me how you were the star of McKinley High football team back in the day.”
Daddy snorted, “That was a long time ago.”
“Grandpa said you won the game.”
“Well, yes, I did win one game.”
“Wow, Uncle Finn says you kicked a forty-five yard winning field goal as time expired.”
“It was fifty-two yards and I pulled your Uncle’s ass out of the fire since he sucked as Quarterback.”
“How did it feel? How did Grandpa Burt feel?”
Daddy got a little pensive. “It’s strange, but I hadn’t been completely honest with your Grandpa up to then. But seeing Grandpa so happy and proud of me, that I won the game with the winning field goal, it made me feel like I could fly. It gave me the confidence to talk to him about a few things that I should have done long before.”
I had a strange lump in my throat because it seemed that I was intruding in a private moment for Daddy, sometimes when he thinks about Grandpa Burt he gets this strange look , like he knows that time is running out and there’s nothing he can do about it.
Grandpa Burt was very pumped up about my joining the team.
Of course Uncle Finn was over the moon because according to him I have such a quick release and he thought my mechanics were as sound as any he’s ever seen. That’s actually a high compliment because Uncle Finn is a pretty good football coach, plus he’s the only person who’s won state football championships as both a player and a coach in the history of the state of Ohio.
Uncle Finn makes me send him film all the time and he really has helped me with my technique. With me as starting Quarterback we’ve won our first seven games and we have a shot at the playoffs, baby.
The thing about being a quarterback is that it’s not about having a strong arm, hell a lot of guys can pass as well as I can. It’s not even necessarily about being mobile, so thank goodness all my tap dance lessons have come in handy. It’s about doing what you have to do in the moment, it’s assessing in a split second where your receivers are, where the opposing team is on the field and analyzing that and not letting it freak you out as you’re being rushed by defensive linesman while you try to throw the ball down field before you can be sacked. It’s sort like anyone can hit a high note, but not everybody can be Patti Lupone as Evita, the peripheral vision you need to command the stage is what you need to command the football field.
Naturally the parental units were all over the football thing now. They’ve sort of had taken over their section of the bleachers. Papa would bring a freaking mobile video studio to every game with the camera equipment he borrows from his gigs to film me. Of course Daddy was already petitioning the concession stands to incorporate more healthy options into their selection, and most of the time the cheerleaders and drill team take my Daddy’s suggestions in stride. The fact that Daddy was a both a bad ass football hero and National Champion cheerleader gives everyone pause.
When we won our next to last game with a game winning pass into the end zone with time expiring, the whole stadium was rocking. I know that football really isn’t Daddy’s thing, but he came up to me after the game and hugged me “Son, you did well.”
It just felt so good.
Naturally I have Papa wrapped around my finger and he told me that I resembled his brother Cooper back in his football days. Papa doesn’t talk about it much but I know that the six inch height gap between him and Uncle Cooper was always a sore subject for him. He wasn’t tall enough for varsity football and Grandpa Anderson was always gushing about Uncle Coop’s exploits on the field. If Papa wants to enjoy my football days so be it.
Does the story end here with everybody channeling Beyoncé (oh yea, I heard about that one) and living happily ever after? (Side note, Aunt Tana sent me ancient YouTube video of Daddy performing “Single Ladies” in the basement with Aunts Tina and Brittany. It’s like precious adamantium to be used to unsheathe my Wolverine claws when needed, or when I want to blackmail Daddy for an IPAD version 75.5)
Well, no.
Even in this day and age there are jerks out there. Assholes never go away I suppose.
Grandpa Burt put it best. “See, apparently there have always been coach roaches, Drew, and they can survive anything. Now at least coach roaches serve a useful purpose, but the thing is, things you think can’t last surprisingly do so. Same thing with assholes, they survive everything, so you just have to learn how to deal with them.
Some jeers and some taunts even now. I ignore it because when I think what my Dads went through, it’s really isn’t much. Eh, besides sports is all about smack talk. As Papa Blaine put it “I’ve worn Cleveland Brown gear in the middle of a crowd of Raider nation, this is nothing.”
***************************
That winning streak of ours has gotten us some buzz. Some local paper interviewed us and asked about the team quarterback so yours truly gave an interview.
************************
“So was your Dad a football player?’
“Well one of my Dads was a field goal kicker so yes I followed in his footsteps.”
“So a chip off the old block?”
“Oh gosh, they’re far more talented than I am. I may play football but they do a lot of things better than that. I’m not them.”
“So they’re happy to see you play?”
“They are so proud , my dads, they are always embarrassing me. Let me tell you that last week they made scarves for their whole section of the bleachers to wear, they’re crazy!”
The next morning there was an editorial in some paper and it talked about how family values were being eroded by the display of alternative lifestyles in the family friendly environment of school sports.
“Far be it from us to question whatever life style adults practice in private. However are the football stands the place for such adults to flaunt their lifestyle which flies in the face of traditional values?
Drew Hummell Anderson is the starting quarterback for the Brooklyn Warriors and no doubt he is put in an awkward position by his two fathers attending his games and announcing to the public their life choices.
He is a sixteen year old boy who has to listen to the taunts and jeers of others because hid Dads have decided that they need their son as a poster child for their union. We of course do not approve of such behavior by unruly fans, but in the rough and tumble world of high school sports is it to be unexpected that such a public display of alternative values can elicit unattractive visceral reactions? Discretion is obviously not the better part of valor for Paterfamilias Kurt and Blaine Hummell Anderson.
When asked for a comment Drew’s response? “ My Dads , they always are embarrassing me.”
Prompted further, he said “I’m not them.”
What can one say when the obvious discomfort of the son means nothing to parents who view his success on the gridiron simply as a platform to make a political and social statement?
Without a doubt Drew will be loyal to his parents, but the jeering and heckling he will have to endure because of their public indulgences speaks more of their social agenda and priorities then concern for their son.
***********************
Assholes.
They’re worse than cockroaches in coming out of the woodwork when you least expect them.
You know how you feel when you’ve been sucker punched and the wind has been knocked out of you? That’s how I felt reading that editorial. I felt like I couldn’t get enough oxygen. All I could think of was I hoped my Dads didn’t read the damn paper. They had to know that what I said was taken out of context, wouldn’t they?
I just wanted to play football. That’s all. It wasn’t a cause, it wasn’t an agenda, it was just what I wanted to do. When did playing the game I love get so complicated?
I was getting a headache just thinking about it all. Was I being selfish with my teammates? Why did they have to go through such crap because of me? Maybe I should quit the team and spare both my parents and the football team all this aggravation.
My coach was furious and so were my teammates when word got out about the article. They were all waiting for me in the locker room when I got in for practice.
“Uh, Drew, I just want to let you know that I had no idea about that rag parading as a local paper.”
My teammate Todd looked at the other guys and said.” Listen, Drew, if you’re called names, we’re all called names, and we don’t’ give a shit, because that’s what a fucking team is. You’re our quarterback and we’ll have your back. Besides, being the homo squad has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it guys? Everyone laughed and cheered and the guys all high fived me and swore they’d kick my ass if I quit the team. Hell, maybe I was auditioning for a role like Daddy said.
I wish I could say the story ends there, but no, that Friday was the worst day of my life so far. Our little winning streak had gotten us more local media out to see us, but this time the Coach made sure he was careful who got to interview with us.
During the game I looked up at the stands and I didn’t see my Dads there. I know precisely where they sit because Papa Blaine says that is the best location possible for filming the game with a wide angle lens.
They were missing.
I blocked it out the rest of the game that they weren’t there.
You’re probably going to think that my game sucked and suffered because my Dads weren’t there. Hell no, I had my best game yet. Three touchdown passes and a rushing touchdown and 75.3 completion percentage for Drew Hummell Anderson. That ain’t nothing to sneeze at.
Yet I was positively miserable. I have to admit, it scared the hell out of me that I could play a great game with them missing, that it was possible. It was “doable”, my Dads not being at the games. I take after both Papa and Daddy in one aspect. I tend to think, or rather over think everything.
Coming home after the game I saw the light in their study on. I couldn’t wait, I knocked on the door and went in. They looked up and I could see how excited they were to see me.
Papa gushed “Drew you had a great game, what the hell is a 75% passing completion rate if not the equivalent of a platinum record? “
Daddy spoke softly “What do you expect, he’s our boy.”
“Dads, you weren’t at the game.”
“Well son, technically we were there but we sort of took a beehive and got a coffee when it got a little chilly in the stands.” They were avoiding the press.
“Son, I hate to do this to you, ..maybe I can’t make the next football game. I have a workshop that Friday I don’t think I can miss.”
Papa Blaine bit his lip, “ And uh…I may have to work late in the studio on a couple of songs. “
“However your Uncle Finn is going to be there, he’s flying up for your next game and bringing Grandpa Burt.”
I’m not stupid. Somebody had got to them. Somebody showed them the paper, somebody called them on the phone, some media wanted an interview. Somebody made it seem that I was ashamed to have them there, that I was embarrassed by them. Ok, let me clarify. They do embarrass me.. All the time. That’s different.
Like Grandpa Burt said, assholes, they come out of the woodwork.
The funny thing was I didn’t think it was possible. I never thought my Dads would ever be less than they were for anything. That after all they fought for they would back down an inch.
********************
The next morning I called Grandpa Burt and spilled the beans.
“Kid, it’s the same thing all over again.”
He sounded tired and a little frustrated, like he had been through this road before.
“Geeze, Kurt can be stubborn. It’s ‘Defying Gravity’ with cleats. When he was around your age your Dad threw a song in order to spare my feelings from those who were mocking me that I had a fag for a son.”
“What?”
“He threw an audition. Gave it up. Wanted to spare me the aggravation.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It gets worse. “
“It can’t.”
“He threw it when he was competing against your Aunt Rachel. Yes, Aunt Rachel.”
Holy shit.
“Grandpa, I don’t want my Dads to do that. I’m strong; I don’t need that kind of protecting.”
“Kid, I believe you, but I’m not the one you have to convince, am I?”
*********************
I had to deal with this here and now. As in the football field I needed to use my peripheral vision to throw the ball down field come what may.
We were all getting ready to see Aunt Mercedes perform at a local jazz club that night and so that was as good a time as any.
“Dads, can you guys come in here?” I rarely let them into my room these days, Daddy critiques my décor to distraction and Papa has broken too many pieces of furniture.
“Look, I know we talk a lot about my becoming more responsible and taking on more personal decisions about my life.”
Both my fathers looked quizzically at me. My playing football had taken them for a loop, as if realizing for the first time that I was their son but I was also my own person. That had to be scary.
“Here’s the deal. It’s up to me if I want to play football, no?”
“Of course, son.” Papa Blaine glanced nervously at Daddy Kurt. We won’t stay in the way of your wanting to play; we know how much you love the sport.”
“You do realize that without you guys there I had my best game ever. So it’s not like you have to be there for me to do well. So you’re happy with my decision either way, you won’t be disappointed in me?”
Daddy Kurt looked me in the eye, “Disappointed in you? Never. Drew, whatever you do we’ll support you. If you want to play football we won’t stop you. If you“ he paused and I could see the effort it was taking him “if you decide you want to give up music or performing on stage we’ll understand.” My Dads were holding hands and I could tell the way they looked that they were waiting for the shoe to drop.
At that moment I thought about Grandpa Burt. He grew up practically when dinosaurs and assholes ruled the earth but I always felt that he did what he did because he knew it was right. He didn’t give a shit if others thought they knew best about Daddy Kurt, that he had to be a certain way. He let Daddy Kurt be Kurt and the hell with everyone else. Daddy Kurt tells me he never really appreciated all that Grandpa had to go through until he also became a father. When Grandpa Burt looks at Daddy he always seems so proud of him, I hope my Dads look at me the same way some day.
Somehow at that moment I felt Grandpa Burt telling me what I knew I had to do.
“I love football. I love throwing that perfect spiral down the field when I find an open receiver. I love the rush I get when we win a game. I admit I like being a football star, I like people calling my name, I like the girls giving me the time of day because I am the Quarterback. So sue me, it’s just feels so good.
However, I love being your son more than being a football star.”
I felt my throat closing but I couldn’t stop now.
“OK this is the deals, Dads. Unless you guys show up for every one of my football games from now on, unless you’re out there cheering for me, unless you are bragging to everyone that that is your son playing , unless you make yourselves obnoxiously and embarrassingly there for every one of my games, before and after, I swear I will give up football. Because unless you’re there, I don’t want to play again. That’s a promise from Drew Hummel Anderson. I don’t ever want to go to another game and not see my Dads from the stands. Because if I play football without my Dads, it means nothing.”
I cannot believe my voice is starting to break. What the hell, I already went through puberty.
“That’s my decision and I hope you can respect it.”
My Dads looked at each other and they both seem to be breathing deeply. It’s as if they were afraid to speak, until finally Papa Kurt broke the silence. “Missing your game wasn’t about you Drew. Son, I don’t ever want you think I was anything less than proud to see you on that football field. ”
Papa Blaine just held Daddy’s hand tighter. “Drew, we’re never ever less than proud of you.”
“I hope so. I want you to be”.
Manup Drew! Geeze. I can’t believe myself. Tears at your age??
I hate emotional displays, I suppose in that sense I resemble Grandpa Anderson. Strike that, bad comparison. A tree trunk has more emotion than Gramps. I swear he could watch Bambi and wonder if the hunters who shot the mom had their hunting licenses up to date.
I wish I could say all’s well that ends well but then I wouldn’t be the son of Kurt and Blaine Hummell Anderson would I?
Things have just started to get interesting.
For our first state playoff game the whole cast of “Rent” came to cheer us on, since Daddy had worked on their latest Broadway revival. It was kind a cool how they sang “La Vie Boheme” during halftime but of course the local media had a field day with that as you can imagine. Even I thought that was overdoing it, I mean there are children at these games for God’s sake.
IF we win, Daddy says that the road company of “Wicked” promises to go to our next game in Albany, after their matinee, naturally. The show must go on and all that.
Daddy Kurt was furious when Aunt Rachel showed up and offered to sing the National Anthem and then proceeded to give a press conference about her latest stage venture. She’s using our son as an excuse for more press he screamed. They had a great invigorating fight about it and as usual Papa Blaine had to play the role of mediator between them. He’s like Switzerland and the United Nations in one when Daddy and Rachel get going. Papa just rolls with the punches.
He sends all my newspaper clippings to Grandpa Anderson and last week Grandpa Anderson showed up to my game and sat next to Papa. That was really nice.
God, Daddy’s trying to design new football uniforms for the team, saying the current ones are an abomination. Can someone please tell him that chartreuse is not an option for a team color? Even worse, Papa is in his studio trying to write new fight songs for the school and thinking of filming him and his old geezer teammates the Warblers for a promo video for the football team.
They were rock stars you know.
Chapter 1: http://hardy1234.livejournal.com/5720.html
“Drew Hummell Anderson, can we please see you in the study?”
First of all, I hate when my Dads try to act ‘parent like’. It really doesn’t suit them.
My sarcasm, it’s a curse and a blessing. The last time Daddy Kurt was trying to lecture me I couldn’t help myself.
“Please, Dad. It’s like your auditioning for the role of the authority figure.”
That little remark cost me my computer privileges revoked for two weeks.
Papa Blaine couldn’t suppress a chuckle and muttered “It’s like seeing your mirror image, Kurt.” Somehow I sense that Papa got some privileges taken away that week too because he looked none too happy afterwards, if you know what I mean; once again, I’m a screwed up kid.
Back to the present:
“What is this?”
“My football jersey. God, do you pilfer through all my clothes, what happened to privacy?"
Whoever said that the best defense was an offense is just spouting a bunch of crock. Daddy Kurt never gets distracted once he gets focused on a subject.
“Don’t change the subject Drew, WHY do you have a football jersey?”
“I joined the football team.”
“Football?” gasped Daddy Kurt.
“Football!’ yelled out Papa Blaine.
Somehow Papa’s reaction didn’t please Daddy.
“Blaine, he lied to us. He joined the team without telling either one of us. Obviously he forged our signature to get permission to do that. Are you endorsing this kind of behavior, this flaunting of our parental authority?”
Papa Blaine looked properly chagrined.
“Drew, what you did is wrong, very wrong. Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Well, you both were out of town at the time of tryouts and one of the coaches said I was a natural and that I had a great shot at the position. Uncle Finn was down that weekend and he signed the slips, and technically he was my guardian that week.”
“I just knew this reeked of Finn!” snapped Daddy Kurt. “He’s nothing but an overgrown football player himself who wants to live vicariously through Drew!”
Papa Blaine seemed a little distracted, unlike Daddy, it’s easier to get him off track. “Did you say the coach thought you were a natural?”
“So what role are you auditioning for, Drew?” inquired Daddy Kurt trying to regain his disciplinarian foothold.
Hugh Jackman as Peter Allen in Gridiron, the musical?
Ok, I may be sarcastic but I’m not brain dead. I know that I would be grounded for life if I touched that one with a ten foot pole.
Instead I took a deep breath and answered as calmly as I could.
“I tried out and made starting quarterback.”
Papa Blaine was trying so hard to contain his enthusiasm it wasn’t even funny. “Did you say starting Quarterback or backup Quarterback?”
“Oh Papa, would I be an Anderson if I didn’t make starting Quarterback?” I flashed a smile at Papa and gave him my best puppy dog eyes look.
“That’s my boy! The next Quarterback for the Ohio State Buckeyes, hell yea!” Papa high fived me and was leaping in the air. I tell ya, Papa’s energy can be breathtaking.
Daddy Kurt looked aghast and called out, “Do I have two children in the house?”
The super power of pouting in tandem, well Papa and I did it with Daddy in making him see how my being on the football team would give me a more varied resume down the line for getting into to NYADA. I’m young, I can dream big. Hell, I can be both a NFL starting quarterback and headline a Broadway show by age thirty.
It was time to pull out all the stops.
“Daddy, Grandpa Burt told me how you were the star of McKinley High football team back in the day.”
Daddy snorted, “That was a long time ago.”
“Grandpa said you won the game.”
“Well, yes, I did win one game.”
“Wow, Uncle Finn says you kicked a forty-five yard winning field goal as time expired.”
“It was fifty-two yards and I pulled your Uncle’s ass out of the fire since he sucked as Quarterback.”
“How did it feel? How did Grandpa Burt feel?”
Daddy got a little pensive. “It’s strange, but I hadn’t been completely honest with your Grandpa up to then. But seeing Grandpa so happy and proud of me, that I won the game with the winning field goal, it made me feel like I could fly. It gave me the confidence to talk to him about a few things that I should have done long before.”
I had a strange lump in my throat because it seemed that I was intruding in a private moment for Daddy, sometimes when he thinks about Grandpa Burt he gets this strange look , like he knows that time is running out and there’s nothing he can do about it.
Grandpa Burt was very pumped up about my joining the team.
Of course Uncle Finn was over the moon because according to him I have such a quick release and he thought my mechanics were as sound as any he’s ever seen. That’s actually a high compliment because Uncle Finn is a pretty good football coach, plus he’s the only person who’s won state football championships as both a player and a coach in the history of the state of Ohio.
Uncle Finn makes me send him film all the time and he really has helped me with my technique. With me as starting Quarterback we’ve won our first seven games and we have a shot at the playoffs, baby.
The thing about being a quarterback is that it’s not about having a strong arm, hell a lot of guys can pass as well as I can. It’s not even necessarily about being mobile, so thank goodness all my tap dance lessons have come in handy. It’s about doing what you have to do in the moment, it’s assessing in a split second where your receivers are, where the opposing team is on the field and analyzing that and not letting it freak you out as you’re being rushed by defensive linesman while you try to throw the ball down field before you can be sacked. It’s sort like anyone can hit a high note, but not everybody can be Patti Lupone as Evita, the peripheral vision you need to command the stage is what you need to command the football field.
Naturally the parental units were all over the football thing now. They’ve sort of had taken over their section of the bleachers. Papa would bring a freaking mobile video studio to every game with the camera equipment he borrows from his gigs to film me. Of course Daddy was already petitioning the concession stands to incorporate more healthy options into their selection, and most of the time the cheerleaders and drill team take my Daddy’s suggestions in stride. The fact that Daddy was a both a bad ass football hero and National Champion cheerleader gives everyone pause.
When we won our next to last game with a game winning pass into the end zone with time expiring, the whole stadium was rocking. I know that football really isn’t Daddy’s thing, but he came up to me after the game and hugged me “Son, you did well.”
It just felt so good.
Naturally I have Papa wrapped around my finger and he told me that I resembled his brother Cooper back in his football days. Papa doesn’t talk about it much but I know that the six inch height gap between him and Uncle Cooper was always a sore subject for him. He wasn’t tall enough for varsity football and Grandpa Anderson was always gushing about Uncle Coop’s exploits on the field. If Papa wants to enjoy my football days so be it.
Does the story end here with everybody channeling Beyoncé (oh yea, I heard about that one) and living happily ever after? (Side note, Aunt Tana sent me ancient YouTube video of Daddy performing “Single Ladies” in the basement with Aunts Tina and Brittany. It’s like precious adamantium to be used to unsheathe my Wolverine claws when needed, or when I want to blackmail Daddy for an IPAD version 75.5)
Well, no.
Even in this day and age there are jerks out there. Assholes never go away I suppose.
Grandpa Burt put it best. “See, apparently there have always been coach roaches, Drew, and they can survive anything. Now at least coach roaches serve a useful purpose, but the thing is, things you think can’t last surprisingly do so. Same thing with assholes, they survive everything, so you just have to learn how to deal with them.
Some jeers and some taunts even now. I ignore it because when I think what my Dads went through, it’s really isn’t much. Eh, besides sports is all about smack talk. As Papa Blaine put it “I’ve worn Cleveland Brown gear in the middle of a crowd of Raider nation, this is nothing.”
***************************
That winning streak of ours has gotten us some buzz. Some local paper interviewed us and asked about the team quarterback so yours truly gave an interview.
************************
“So was your Dad a football player?’
“Well one of my Dads was a field goal kicker so yes I followed in his footsteps.”
“So a chip off the old block?”
“Oh gosh, they’re far more talented than I am. I may play football but they do a lot of things better than that. I’m not them.”
“So they’re happy to see you play?”
“They are so proud , my dads, they are always embarrassing me. Let me tell you that last week they made scarves for their whole section of the bleachers to wear, they’re crazy!”
The next morning there was an editorial in some paper and it talked about how family values were being eroded by the display of alternative lifestyles in the family friendly environment of school sports.
“Far be it from us to question whatever life style adults practice in private. However are the football stands the place for such adults to flaunt their lifestyle which flies in the face of traditional values?
Drew Hummell Anderson is the starting quarterback for the Brooklyn Warriors and no doubt he is put in an awkward position by his two fathers attending his games and announcing to the public their life choices.
He is a sixteen year old boy who has to listen to the taunts and jeers of others because hid Dads have decided that they need their son as a poster child for their union. We of course do not approve of such behavior by unruly fans, but in the rough and tumble world of high school sports is it to be unexpected that such a public display of alternative values can elicit unattractive visceral reactions? Discretion is obviously not the better part of valor for Paterfamilias Kurt and Blaine Hummell Anderson.
When asked for a comment Drew’s response? “ My Dads , they always are embarrassing me.”
Prompted further, he said “I’m not them.”
What can one say when the obvious discomfort of the son means nothing to parents who view his success on the gridiron simply as a platform to make a political and social statement?
Without a doubt Drew will be loyal to his parents, but the jeering and heckling he will have to endure because of their public indulgences speaks more of their social agenda and priorities then concern for their son.
***********************
Assholes.
They’re worse than cockroaches in coming out of the woodwork when you least expect them.
You know how you feel when you’ve been sucker punched and the wind has been knocked out of you? That’s how I felt reading that editorial. I felt like I couldn’t get enough oxygen. All I could think of was I hoped my Dads didn’t read the damn paper. They had to know that what I said was taken out of context, wouldn’t they?
I just wanted to play football. That’s all. It wasn’t a cause, it wasn’t an agenda, it was just what I wanted to do. When did playing the game I love get so complicated?
I was getting a headache just thinking about it all. Was I being selfish with my teammates? Why did they have to go through such crap because of me? Maybe I should quit the team and spare both my parents and the football team all this aggravation.
My coach was furious and so were my teammates when word got out about the article. They were all waiting for me in the locker room when I got in for practice.
“Uh, Drew, I just want to let you know that I had no idea about that rag parading as a local paper.”
My teammate Todd looked at the other guys and said.” Listen, Drew, if you’re called names, we’re all called names, and we don’t’ give a shit, because that’s what a fucking team is. You’re our quarterback and we’ll have your back. Besides, being the homo squad has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it guys? Everyone laughed and cheered and the guys all high fived me and swore they’d kick my ass if I quit the team. Hell, maybe I was auditioning for a role like Daddy said.
I wish I could say the story ends there, but no, that Friday was the worst day of my life so far. Our little winning streak had gotten us more local media out to see us, but this time the Coach made sure he was careful who got to interview with us.
During the game I looked up at the stands and I didn’t see my Dads there. I know precisely where they sit because Papa Blaine says that is the best location possible for filming the game with a wide angle lens.
They were missing.
I blocked it out the rest of the game that they weren’t there.
You’re probably going to think that my game sucked and suffered because my Dads weren’t there. Hell no, I had my best game yet. Three touchdown passes and a rushing touchdown and 75.3 completion percentage for Drew Hummell Anderson. That ain’t nothing to sneeze at.
Yet I was positively miserable. I have to admit, it scared the hell out of me that I could play a great game with them missing, that it was possible. It was “doable”, my Dads not being at the games. I take after both Papa and Daddy in one aspect. I tend to think, or rather over think everything.
Coming home after the game I saw the light in their study on. I couldn’t wait, I knocked on the door and went in. They looked up and I could see how excited they were to see me.
Papa gushed “Drew you had a great game, what the hell is a 75% passing completion rate if not the equivalent of a platinum record? “
Daddy spoke softly “What do you expect, he’s our boy.”
“Dads, you weren’t at the game.”
“Well son, technically we were there but we sort of took a beehive and got a coffee when it got a little chilly in the stands.” They were avoiding the press.
“Son, I hate to do this to you, ..maybe I can’t make the next football game. I have a workshop that Friday I don’t think I can miss.”
Papa Blaine bit his lip, “ And uh…I may have to work late in the studio on a couple of songs. “
“However your Uncle Finn is going to be there, he’s flying up for your next game and bringing Grandpa Burt.”
I’m not stupid. Somebody had got to them. Somebody showed them the paper, somebody called them on the phone, some media wanted an interview. Somebody made it seem that I was ashamed to have them there, that I was embarrassed by them. Ok, let me clarify. They do embarrass me.. All the time. That’s different.
Like Grandpa Burt said, assholes, they come out of the woodwork.
The funny thing was I didn’t think it was possible. I never thought my Dads would ever be less than they were for anything. That after all they fought for they would back down an inch.
********************
The next morning I called Grandpa Burt and spilled the beans.
“Kid, it’s the same thing all over again.”
He sounded tired and a little frustrated, like he had been through this road before.
“Geeze, Kurt can be stubborn. It’s ‘Defying Gravity’ with cleats. When he was around your age your Dad threw a song in order to spare my feelings from those who were mocking me that I had a fag for a son.”
“What?”
“He threw an audition. Gave it up. Wanted to spare me the aggravation.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It gets worse. “
“It can’t.”
“He threw it when he was competing against your Aunt Rachel. Yes, Aunt Rachel.”
Holy shit.
“Grandpa, I don’t want my Dads to do that. I’m strong; I don’t need that kind of protecting.”
“Kid, I believe you, but I’m not the one you have to convince, am I?”
*********************
I had to deal with this here and now. As in the football field I needed to use my peripheral vision to throw the ball down field come what may.
We were all getting ready to see Aunt Mercedes perform at a local jazz club that night and so that was as good a time as any.
“Dads, can you guys come in here?” I rarely let them into my room these days, Daddy critiques my décor to distraction and Papa has broken too many pieces of furniture.
“Look, I know we talk a lot about my becoming more responsible and taking on more personal decisions about my life.”
Both my fathers looked quizzically at me. My playing football had taken them for a loop, as if realizing for the first time that I was their son but I was also my own person. That had to be scary.
“Here’s the deal. It’s up to me if I want to play football, no?”
“Of course, son.” Papa Blaine glanced nervously at Daddy Kurt. We won’t stay in the way of your wanting to play; we know how much you love the sport.”
“You do realize that without you guys there I had my best game ever. So it’s not like you have to be there for me to do well. So you’re happy with my decision either way, you won’t be disappointed in me?”
Daddy Kurt looked me in the eye, “Disappointed in you? Never. Drew, whatever you do we’ll support you. If you want to play football we won’t stop you. If you“ he paused and I could see the effort it was taking him “if you decide you want to give up music or performing on stage we’ll understand.” My Dads were holding hands and I could tell the way they looked that they were waiting for the shoe to drop.
At that moment I thought about Grandpa Burt. He grew up practically when dinosaurs and assholes ruled the earth but I always felt that he did what he did because he knew it was right. He didn’t give a shit if others thought they knew best about Daddy Kurt, that he had to be a certain way. He let Daddy Kurt be Kurt and the hell with everyone else. Daddy Kurt tells me he never really appreciated all that Grandpa had to go through until he also became a father. When Grandpa Burt looks at Daddy he always seems so proud of him, I hope my Dads look at me the same way some day.
Somehow at that moment I felt Grandpa Burt telling me what I knew I had to do.
“I love football. I love throwing that perfect spiral down the field when I find an open receiver. I love the rush I get when we win a game. I admit I like being a football star, I like people calling my name, I like the girls giving me the time of day because I am the Quarterback. So sue me, it’s just feels so good.
However, I love being your son more than being a football star.”
I felt my throat closing but I couldn’t stop now.
“OK this is the deals, Dads. Unless you guys show up for every one of my football games from now on, unless you’re out there cheering for me, unless you are bragging to everyone that that is your son playing , unless you make yourselves obnoxiously and embarrassingly there for every one of my games, before and after, I swear I will give up football. Because unless you’re there, I don’t want to play again. That’s a promise from Drew Hummel Anderson. I don’t ever want to go to another game and not see my Dads from the stands. Because if I play football without my Dads, it means nothing.”
I cannot believe my voice is starting to break. What the hell, I already went through puberty.
“That’s my decision and I hope you can respect it.”
My Dads looked at each other and they both seem to be breathing deeply. It’s as if they were afraid to speak, until finally Papa Kurt broke the silence. “Missing your game wasn’t about you Drew. Son, I don’t ever want you think I was anything less than proud to see you on that football field. ”
Papa Blaine just held Daddy’s hand tighter. “Drew, we’re never ever less than proud of you.”
“I hope so. I want you to be”.
Manup Drew! Geeze. I can’t believe myself. Tears at your age??
I hate emotional displays, I suppose in that sense I resemble Grandpa Anderson. Strike that, bad comparison. A tree trunk has more emotion than Gramps. I swear he could watch Bambi and wonder if the hunters who shot the mom had their hunting licenses up to date.
I wish I could say all’s well that ends well but then I wouldn’t be the son of Kurt and Blaine Hummell Anderson would I?
Things have just started to get interesting.
For our first state playoff game the whole cast of “Rent” came to cheer us on, since Daddy had worked on their latest Broadway revival. It was kind a cool how they sang “La Vie Boheme” during halftime but of course the local media had a field day with that as you can imagine. Even I thought that was overdoing it, I mean there are children at these games for God’s sake.
IF we win, Daddy says that the road company of “Wicked” promises to go to our next game in Albany, after their matinee, naturally. The show must go on and all that.
Daddy Kurt was furious when Aunt Rachel showed up and offered to sing the National Anthem and then proceeded to give a press conference about her latest stage venture. She’s using our son as an excuse for more press he screamed. They had a great invigorating fight about it and as usual Papa Blaine had to play the role of mediator between them. He’s like Switzerland and the United Nations in one when Daddy and Rachel get going. Papa just rolls with the punches.
He sends all my newspaper clippings to Grandpa Anderson and last week Grandpa Anderson showed up to my game and sat next to Papa. That was really nice.
God, Daddy’s trying to design new football uniforms for the team, saying the current ones are an abomination. Can someone please tell him that chartreuse is not an option for a team color? Even worse, Papa is in his studio trying to write new fight songs for the school and thinking of filming him and his old geezer teammates the Warblers for a promo video for the football team.
They were rock stars you know.
Chapter 1: http://hardy1234.livejournal.com/5720.html