All-American Boy

He trailed Coach Evans to the fifty-yard line, while the quarterbacks, and the other receivers formed lines for the obligatory one-hand passing drill. Clint constantly glanced up to the stands in the area where Sara Easler should be sitting. Since Skylar Littlefeather was 6’10”, Clint thought he should be able to spot Sara with Skylar. He found Skylar under his red thirty-gallon hat, standing out like a pillar in a sea of red. Then he saw Linda Smart leading the overwhelmed and dazzled white toothy smiling blonde through the sea of red to their seats. Clint’s gaze met the soft pretty blue eyes of the radiant blonde. He peeled off his helmet and combed back his damp blonde disheveled hair with the fingers and palm of his right hand. And as his gaze locked with Sara’s, the crowd noise, Lyell Bremser, and the commotion went silent as if the two were alone in this huge coliseum. She somehow displayed more teeth while lifting her hand and fluttering her fingers. The electricity tingled and popped on the surface of his skin like it always did when he first saw or touched her.

Coach Evans whacked Clint on the shoulder pads. “Wake up, Andes,” instructed the coach. “We gotta game to play-- You startin’, memba?”

Clint’s keen awareness for details sometimes caused blind spots: he’d glanced at the starting lineup but hadn’t noticed his name. Betters pulled his hamstring on Friday, but he was one of the toughest guys on the team and could usually play through it. Even the hints from teammates who slapped his helmet or his pads, then yelled “Way to go, Andrews!” or  “Kick ass, Andrews!” didn’t pierce his thick headedness. How could he be so obtuse to not notice he was starting today? It was what he’d dreamed of and feared most.

After the pregame locker room meeting, the offensive starting line-up nervously waited near the end zone to be announced. They all danced on their tiptoes, to stay warm and avoid stiffness, to dissipate the nervousness, and to stay pumped. Van Porter was different. He told jokes. He threw a football in the air and then bounced it off Freddy Sawyer’s helmet. He flirted with the cheerleaders and the female fans, and he mugged for the television camera.

Above the cheers of the crowd, the public address announcer bellowed, “Another sellout, guys and gals. This is the largest crowd to attend a Nebraska Cornhusker game in Memorial Stadium, 52,685.” He waited for the cheers and applause to subside. “We are nationally televised today. So, please give a rousing Nebraska Cornhusker welcome to NBC and our national audience.” He waited for a lull in the noise. 

***

    Big-Red Big-Red Letter Day or the Lettermen’s Banquet, in December, was at the Cornhusker Hotel. On a short staged riser, the Nebraska Governor sat right of the podium, winged by a Nebraska US Senator, Howard Lubkus, and three of the head sports writers from the Grand Island Independent, the Lincoln Journal, and the Omaha World-Herald. To the left of the podium Coach Bob Devaney’s blue eyes sparkled as four assistant coaches adjoined him at the table. Clashing glassware pinged and the silverware chimed in the large room while the Senator and Governor congratulated the Nebraska football team on their nine and one season. The journalists regaled the nervously eager audience with amusing anecdotes about their adventures following the team around the country. Coach Evans awarded big white ‘N’ letters to players who had the required game quarters and he gave gold football pins to qualified preexisting lettermen.

Clint began to squirm in his chair. Evans didn’t call his name and Clint had more game minutes then most of the players. He alternated intense puzzled stares between Devaney and Evans hoping for a smile, a frown, or the slightest hint of why he was passed over, but they didn’t even peek at him. Since he separated his shoulder, his emotions revolved from anger, suspicion, paranoia, to insecurity. He left for the restroom, smoked a cigarette in the lobby, and then he started to leave, but he hesitated and paced trying to decide how to approach Coach Devaney after the banquet. Maybe it was just an oversight, he thought as Rick stormed out to the lobby and yanked him back into the banquet. He sat again between Arbanawitz and Tetzloff. Then he started to ask Rick what he thought, but was shushed up; Coach Devaney was speaking.

Devaney reviewed the season, crediting as many players as time allowed. The coach spoke about pivotal plays that involved Clint without mentioning Clint Andrews’s name. Coach Devaney presented awards to defensive players and praised the performance of the Black Shirt Squad. Then he gave Jed Zachary a plaque for Most Improved Player. He gave Rick Arbanawitz plaques for Most Inspirational Player and Offensive Lineman of the Year, and then Freddy Sawyer received the award for Most Valuable Player.