Larry was
nervous as he stood waiting. The guy next to him lagged first. His marble
rolled nearly twenty feet and stopped within a foot of the lag line. Now it was
Larry's turn. He took a deep breath, let it out like his brother had coached
him, and rolled his marble. It stopped a few inches from the line. He heart
leaped. He was going to be the first shooter. He looked around through the
crowd of spectators. He didn't see Tim. Where the hell was his brother? He
stuffed his disappointment and tried to focus on the upcoming match. The
regional finals for the National Marble Tournament were underway and it looked
like he was on his own.
Tim's friends gave him high five's
as he rolled up on his BMX bike. Matt, Kim and Micah were lounging on a bench
in Idlewood Park, half a mile south from where Larry was sweating out the
beginning of his final match of the tournament.
"I thought you were goin' to be
with Little Bro'?" Matt asked, flipping a broken twig in Tim's direction.
"In a sec. I just need a hit to
get me through it. I'm all out." He ducked, the twig narrowly missing his
face. His friend, if you could call him that, was a real jerk sometimes.
Matt grinned and looked at Kim and
Micah. "It'll cost ya', man."
"Come on," Tim, pleaded,
"Just a quick one, and then I'm outta' here." He pointed back from where
he came. "I need to hurry up and get back over there and be with
Larry."
"Aww. Is Little Bro' going to
miss his Big Bro'?" Now Kim started in. Tim rolled his eyes. Sometimes he
wondered why he hung out with these guys.
Micah came to his defense, "Cool
it you guys." He turned to Larry, "Here, let me fix you up." He reached
into his pocket and pulled out his pipe. I've still got a little left here.
"Great." A little was all
Tim needed. He was as nervous as his brother about the tournament. Micah passed
the pipe to him. Tim pulled out his lighter, lit the weed and took a quick hit,
sucking the smoke in and holding it. After a minute he exhaled, feeling better.
"Thanks man," he said, giving Micah his pipe back. "I owe ya'."
Back at the tournament Larry tried
to settle himself. Where the hell was Tim? Larry's big brother was also his
coach, if you could call it that. Tim, at fifteen, was now too old to play in tournaments
but, at thirteen, Larry was just under the cut off line. He eyed the guy he'd
be playing against. He was a big kid, someone Larry had never seen before. He
looked older, almost like he could be shaving. Stop it, he told himself, you're
psyching yourself out. He looked around again. The crowd was growing and
starting to fill the bleachers surrounding the ring where the championship
would be played . Earlier in the week the staff had set up the bleachers along
with twelve hard, resin playing surfaces at popular James Beach. It was located
on the south end of Lake Calhoun, a favorite city lake in a string of lakes in
Minneapolis, all connected by biking and walking paths. The tournament had been
going on since Friday. Over five hundred kids had signed up and Larry had
played nearly twenty games, winning each one and progressing to the finals
today, noon on Sunday. The girls final had just ended with Katie Peterson, a
friend of his, winning. She'd be going to Atlantic City and the national finals
in four weeks. With any luck he'd be joining her. The guy he was playing
against seemed poised and confident, joking with a bunch of his friends, all of
them giving Larry smug looks. He looked around again. Really, he thought to
himself, what's happened to Tim?
Idlewood park was a large grassy
area one block square in size and a beautiful place for people in the city to
gather. It was fairly level, with well groomed paths meandering through it
encouraging walking. There was a wading pool, a baseball diamond, basket ball
courts, a tennis court, swing sets and a community center. The park had it all.
Mature oak and maple trees grew throughout providing welcome summertime shade, and
benches were scattered all around encouraging people to sit and relax. The
bench Tim and his friends hung out at they considered theirs, and they actively
discouraged people from loitering. Only they were allowed to do that.
"Yeah... I feel good." Tim
looked at Mica. "Thanks man." He looked around. It was a perfect
summer day, blue sky, big white puffy clouds and a light breeze. People were
out and about, some of them playing on the ball diamond and others shooting
baskets. A few little kids were even splashing around in the wading pool. Tim
watched them casually, remembering when he and Larry used to come down and play
in it, cooling off on hot summer days. They only lived about five blocks away
so it was easy to walk to it when they were young. When was that, he thought to
himself, five years ago, ten? He lost track of his math and shook his head.
Anyway, they also used to come down and swing on the swing sets. Especially
when their parents were fighting, which they used to do a lot. They'd swing and
swing and pass the time, hoping that when they got home the fight would be
over. It usually wasn't. Now, their parents were divorced and it was only Tim
and Larry and their mom, who worked a lot and let the two boys do pretty much
whatever they wanted. And that's what they did. Especially this particular
summer.
He stretched, wanting to appear
casual. "I should get back to the match."
"See how Little Bro' is
doin'?" Matt asked, kind of taunting.
"The big marble king," Kim
added and snickered.
"Or queen," Matt laughed
at his own stupid joke, Kim joining in.
Tim just shook his head. His friends
didn't get it at all. In fact, he was surprised that they even put up with him.
Like now. Lately Tim could feel himself drifting apart from them, especially
Matt and Kim. They all had been hanging around together since grade school,
having met back in Mr. Jensen's fifth grade class. At the time, Tim had become
a very good marble player and regularly participated in tournaments in the area,
occasionally even winning. He was a bit well known in sort of a weird way and
maybe that added to it. Let's face it, most of the kids in his school thought
anyone playing marbles was pretty much someone you should avoid. Someone too
different to even consider being friends with. But that was alright with Tim.
By then he was used to being looked at as something of an outsider. He was fine
with it. Then one day Matt had approached him, trailing Kim and Micah behind.
"Hey, you that marble
guy?" he had asked, standing so close Tim could smell the potato chips on
his breath.
"Yeah..." he'd answered,
expecting to be shoved or pushed around or something. Something he was used to.
"What of it?"
Matt turned to the other two and
gave each of them a high five. "See, I told ya'," he exclaimed.
Grinning, he turned to Tim and quickly gave him a one armed hug. "That's
pretty friggin' cool if you ask me."
And that was it. From that day Tim
had been included into their group. Matt and his gang also considered
themselves outsiders and different for everyone else, so Tim fit right in. And
even though he didn't agree with everything the guys did, he had to admit, it
was nice to have some friends and guys to hang around with.
Tim's dad had collected marbles. Had
ever since he'd been a kid."I just like how they look," he told Tim
once. Back then there were hundreds of marbles stored in jars all over the
house. Tim became attracted to them on the day his mom had made his dad move
them out and store them in the garage.
"Get those things out of
here," she'd finally yelled. "I'm sick of looking at them."
And this came from someone who
thought nothing of collecting china flowers and displaying them all over the
place. To each their own, Tim finally decided. But he helped his dad move the
jars and Larry had too. It had been fun, and even now, six years later, he
still remembered that day with fondness.
"What do you do with
them?" Tim had asked as they carefully placed the jars on a self his dad
had cleared off. He had to admit they were kind of pretty. Glass marbles of
every color under the sun. The ones he liked the best had bands swirling
through them comprised sometimes four or five different colors.
"Those are actually called
'flames'," his dad said. "Look, see how the tips end in a
point?"
"Cool," Larry said. Tim
hadn't been aware that his brother had been looking over his shoulder. Larry
put the marble in his hand and turned it over and over examining it. Then he
held it up toward the light. The colors seemed to explode. Even Tim thought it
looked pretty neat. Their dad watched as both of his son's interest grew. Excitedly
he picked a jar off the shelf and poured the marbles out onto a old white
towel. "Look at these," he said, lovingly spreading the marbles out.
He showed them purple popeyes and peerless patches. He showed them chalkies and
clearies and clambroths. He showed them handmade marbles and marbles that
glowed in the dark. There were bloodies and flames and slags and swirls. Cub
scouts and girl scouts and spidermen and supermen. He showed them watermelons
and rainbows and wasps and tigers. Even one called a root beer float. And those
all came out of just one jar.
The boys eyes went wide as he
rattled off their names. The marbles were pretty and colorful and the exotic
names added to the mystery and enjoyment.
"Here, let me show you something
else," he said, picking up more on his boy's interest.
He grabbed a ball of twine and peeled
off a twenty foot length. He put it on the floor of the garage in the shape of
a circle. It was about six feet across. "You take your marbles and put
them in the center of the circle." He put a handful down, maybe a dozen.
"Then you take this bigger marble..." He grabbed a different jar and
shook out a marble about twice as large as the others. "It's called a 'shooter'".
He knelt down and cupped the shooter in his right hand with his fingers curled
around it, cradling the marble. With his thumb positioned behind it he suddenly
flicked the marble so it rolled across the floor smacking into the collection
of marbles in the center, knocking a few of them out of the ring. He looked up
at his boys. "You just fire the shooter at the marbles and try to knock
out as many as you can." He stood up and dusted his knees. Tim looked at
his dad. He'd never seen this side of him before. At the time, being nine years old, he could
have coped an attitude of indifference, pretending that he didn't care, but he
didn't. His dad actually looked happy. Almost like he was a kid again. And, for
some reason, that made Tim happy
"That's pretty cool, dad,"
he said, meaning it.
Larry took it a step further.
"Show me how to play." His intense expression was unlike anything Tim
had ever seen before. It was the beginning of the growth of a new side of his
brother that was still going on even until now.
From that day on the two boys, with
coaching from their father, started to learn the game of marbles. It soon
became evident that, while Tim was good, his younger brother Larry had a
special aptitude. A gift, if you will, that was interesting for his older
brother to see as it developed. And it was especially fun for their father to
see. You have to remember that the boys were learning how to play marbles in a
day and age where most kids were plugged into an iPod or Wii or some fancy
electronic game played a big screen television. It wasn't that the boys weren't
interested in those things, they were, especially Tim, but they just didn't
like them as much as the thrill they got from playing marbles.
Like Larry said once, "I just
like to fire that shooter and watch it smash into those other marbles."
There was a twinkle in his eye when he said it. One thing was certain for the
boys, playing marbles was definitely a more tactile experience than playing video
games.
It made Tim feel good when his little
brother talked like that. Larry had always been a quiet, shy and introverted
kid. He was near sighted so he had to wear thick framed glasses. He was skinny,
almost frail and hadn't hit a growth spurt yet. He loved to read the 'Hardy
Boys' mysteries and color in his coloring books. Tim was convinced his brother
could go for days without talking to anyone if he had to. If his mom didn't
make him go to school he'd probably be perfectly happy just living in his bedroom
with his books and his colored pencils. Except for playing marbles. Playing
marbles got Larry out of the house and got him around other kids, and, who
knew, maybe that was something worthwhile in that. Larry sure liked it. It
turned out that he liked the competition. Liked the pressure, too, which was odd
because it was one of the things that eventually drove Tim away from tournament
play. But not Larry. He seemed to thrive on it. He didn't always win, of
course, but he was always a gracious loser. Tim got the feeling that his
brother in some strange way needed to be playing marbles. He couldn't quite put
it into words, but it had to do with giving him a sort of confidence. A
confidence he certainly wouldn't have obtained by living life up his room.
Their dad left home about six months
after he'd shown the boys how to play marbles. Their mother had kicked him out of
the house about the same time the company he worked for transferred him to Sacramento.
Tim would never forget the day their dad left. After a few minutes of embarrassed
goodbyes, their dad finally wrapped both the boys in a big bear hug. All three
of them had gotten close in the months since they'd discovered the game of
marbles. And it was about the game that was the final thing their dad had talked
about before leaving. "Keep your eye on the marble, boys," he'd said,
making a little inside joke like he'd done before, but also actually meaning
it. "Don't look at the shooter in your hand, just zero in on that marble
you're shooting at. Relax. Let your breath out. And fire. Let your instinct
take over."
Tim and Larry knew exactly what
their dad was getting at. He'd told them time and time again that you 'sort of
become one with the marble'.
"Like that golfing movie?"
Tim had asked.
Their dad had smiled and nodded but then
also turned serious saying it was sort of like that, except playing marbles was
a lot harder than playing golf.
Tim didn't know about that, but he
did know that he loved the game and so did Larry. Within a year after their mom
had them move the marbles to the garage and six months after their dad had
left, the boys had entered their first tournament. And they hadn't done too
badly. The Midwest Marble Association sponsored tournaments which were held in
a variety of locations in the five state area. Their mom would drive them if
she could get the time off work. The first one they attended was in Iowa,
outdoors at the Merle Hay Shopping Center in Des Moines. Tim finished in fourth
place and Larry in third in their respective age groups, and the seed had been
planted. They were able to attend on the average four or five tournaments a
year, usually in the summer. The more they played the better they became. And
for those first few years, it had been a lot of fun. It had brought the
brothers closer together than ever and even their mom had fun.
But, of course, things change over
time. As Tim got older he started to lose his desire to compete. He didn't like
all the fuss that went with it and his enthusiasm waned. But Larry was
different. He excelled at the game. He liked the challenge and he like the
competition, which was a surprise to his older brother.
"I don't get it," Tim said
to him, more than once. "Why do you put yourself through this stress all
the time?"
Larry answered with a gleam in his
eye, "I just like to know that I'm good at something, and playing in those
tournaments let's me do that."
Tim didn't know much, but he did
know that his little brother was telling the truth. He really was good at
playing marbles.
Tim was ten and Larry was eight when
their dad left home. After he moved out they didn't see him very much. As their
mom put it, "Your dad loves you but he's just moved on with his life. "
She paused and looked both the boys straight in the eye, adding, "You
should too." Her words were a bit harsh but they were also true, and the
boys tried to do just that. Tim often wondered if his brother's obsession with
marbles had to do with him holding on to some childish memory. Like the good
times they'd had with their dad and that day in the garage when he'd first
taught his boys the game of marbles. Weirder things could happen.
Now, at thirteen, Larry was at the
top of his game. He was confident, but not arrogant. He had skill and he had
focus. Tim had been coaching him for the last few years, ever since he'd lost
interest in competing. He still loved the game, but he had moved on and was
interested in other things now.
"Hey, man, where are you?"
Micah was waving a hand in front of Tim's face. "Are you still with
us?" The other guys laughed and Tim blinked his eyes, coming back to
reality.
"Yeah, geez, sorry." Tim
rubbed his eyes, the images in his memories fading. "What's goin'
on?"
Matt punched him in the arm.
"Get with it, man. You asleep or what?"
Tim finally got his mind working
again. He suddenly realized something. His brother. "Man, I got to get
goin'." He said frantically, standing on the pedal of his bike.
"Larry's game's probably started."
Matt and Kim laughed and gave him
cat-calls as he tore through the park and out on to the street that lead down
to the lake. He felt bad and he pushed the speed of his bike. He knew how much
Larry depended on him. He had to step on it. This would be his brother's last
chance to win the tournament and get to go to Atlantic City for the nationals.
Next year he'd be too old. He pedaled faster, heart pounding, silently berating
himself for letting his brother down.
Back at the tournament Larry was kneeling
down on the outside edge of the circle ready to begin the game. One of the
rules of marbles is to have at least one knuckle touching the ground when
shooting. So he knuckled down and lined up his first shot. The game is played
on a square, hard resin surface outlined by low boards. Inside is a ten foot
diameter circle. Inside the circle thirteen marbles are placed in the center in
a cross pattern with the marbles six inches apart. A template is used to lay
them down emphasizing that accuracy counts for a lot in marble competition in
more ways than one. Larry knelt so he could line up his first shot, the first
shot he always took in any game, which was aimed at the center marble in the
cross. He mentally tried to calm himself. The crowd of spectators became a
quiet, watching and waiting. He checked his breathing, took a deep breath and
slowly let the air out of his lungs. His eyes locked in on the center marble.
He relaxed his grip on his shooter just an instant before he made his mind up
to shoot. (A trick his father had taught him). And then he fired. The marble
shot out of his hand like a missile and flew past the center marble, just
nicking it ever so slightly. His shooter flew across the ring and slammed into
the boards on the far side. He had missed everything. It was the worst shot he'd
taken in he couldn't remember how long. He felt like a jerk. He glanced over at
the other guy who was in the process of doing all he could to keep from
laughing. This was not the beginning he'd hoped for.
Tim was pedaling as fast as he could
to get to the beach. He swung into the parking lot, skidding a little and
barely maintaining control. He headed for the huge crowd of spectators. The
lake was dotted with sailboats and windsurfers. People were playing in the
water, laughing and tossing Frisbees. He hardly noticed any of that. Instead he
heard a groan arise from the crowd. He pedaled even faster. Something bad had
happened and he hoped it didn't have anything to do with his brother.
Well, things like that just
happened, what how Larry was looking at it. One of the lessons he'd learned
from his years of competition was to take the good and the bad. The guy he was
playing against, whose name was Nate, knuckled down and took his shot. He
knocked one marble from the ring but his shooter went out as well which meant
he had to forfeit his next shot. The shooter has to stay in the circle for the
player to continue. It was Larry's turn. A movement to his right caught his
eye. Tim had jumped off his bike and was shouldering his way to the front of
the crowd. It's about time, he thought to himself. Tim gave him a look and
pointed to his eye and then to Larry, eyeball to eyeball. It was something
they'd come up with in the last year. It was like 'double focus. You and the
shooter. That's all there is. Make it happen.' It probably sounded weird, which
is why the two brothers didn't talk about it much, but there really was an
element of more than luck or chance or even skill when it came to playing
marbles. You had to get into the zone. That place where there was only you and
your connection to the marble you were shooting at. It was almost a mystical
thing. And that's where Larry tried to get to now.
Tim and Larry played regional
tournaments together for about five years. Tim quit when he was fourteen, the
last year he was eligible to play. By then Larry had proven himself as a
committed player. Tim still liked the game and, even if he didn't admit it to
anyone else, he liked his brother. Tim was the more outgoing of the two. He was
the one with friends. Larry was quiet and introverted when he was young and he
was growing into his teenage years as still being quiet and introverted. He was
friends with Katie Peterson because they both enjoyed playing marbles, but he
had no other kids his age he hung out with. He was a good student. Teachers
liked him and he was never any trouble. While other kids pleaded with their
parents for cell phones, Larry didn't. He was happy reading and building model
airplanes. He was learning chess. The closest he came to technology was playing
with Legos. This summer he had started dressing in baggy knee length cargo
pants, various tee-shirts from different punk bands, red converse high-top
tennis shoes and an old Minnesota Twins baseball cap of their dad's he'd found
stuffed in a box in the basement. So although Larry was different and a bit
unique, he was still his brother and they got along pretty well. Like his mom
had said once, "With your father gone, it's just you two boys. You'd
better make the most of it." Which, when Tim thought about it, they did.
So with eye contact made, Larry felt
himself shifting inside. Felt himself starting to get into the zone. He knelt
down and positioned himself. He had put his first missed shot behind him. It
was like the match had just started. He had another chance to make his shot. He
calmed himself and fired. A hit. He felt his pulse go up. He'd knocked two
marbles out and his shooter stayed in the circle. He was up two to one and
could shoot again. There were ten marbles left. He calmed himself and knelt
down. He rubbed his shooter on his pant leg and rolled it in the palm of his
hand, all the while eyeing his next shot. When he was ready he knuckled down
and fired. Another hit. He was on a roll, a term he and Tim often used in a
case like this, when he started knocking marbles out right and left. 'No pun
intended' they'd always add, envisioning all those marbles rolling all over the
place. Thinking about it made him smile even as he concentrated on his next
shot.
This summer Larry was between seventh
and eighth grade. Unlike other guys his age he wasn't into girls or smoking
dope (like he knew his brother sometimes did) or hanging out with goofy friends
(like his brother always did) or anything like that. He liked things quiet. He
liked his books and reading. He was into the history of the civil war right
now. He had traded his coloring books in for drawing tablets that he filled
with detailed pen and ink sketches of birds and flowers that he brush-washed
with watercolors. He liked to listen to music of all kinds and recently surprised
even his brother by becoming a fan of the California punk rock band Social
Distortion. He listened to them late at night through the headphones on his
computer while idly sketching his drawings. He was even thinking about getting
a job at the hobby store in the strip mall a few miles from home, close enough
so he could ride his bike. He had grown closer to his mother ever since his dad
had left. He felt a little bad that she had to work and couldn't be at the
tournament today, but it didn't concern him too much. And he liked his older
brother a lot. After their dad had left home the family had not drifted apart
like other families might have. No, they had grown closer together. The boy's
mom seemed more at ease with their dad gone, and she gave each of her sons as
much love as she could. The fact that she had to work so much only made Tim and
Larry become more responsible and that was a good thing. Like their mom had
said, "I'm going to have to count on your more and more now that your dad
is gone. Don't let me down." It must have been the way she said it, and
the trust she put in her sons, that made them respect her wishes and do what
she wanted them to do. Which is what they did.
Well, almost. After all, boys will
be boys and in Tim's case, that was certainly true. Hanging around with Matt
and his crew probably wasn't the best thing way for him to be spending his time.
At least in Larry's eyes, but as far as he knew Tim hadn't gotten into any
really bad trouble yet. But that's why Larry had been so worried when he hadn't
seen his brother at the beginning of the match. Who knew what could have
happened? Matt certainly was a loose cannon. But Tim was here now and that's
all that counted.
One of the keys in marble
competition beyond concentration and focus and skill was the ability to not get
rattled. Larry was a master at maintaining his composure but even he had a scary
moment a few shots later when his shot failed to knock a marble out but his
shooter stayed in the circle. This meant that Nate could use his next shot to
try to knock the shooter out. If he was successful Larry would have to give up all
of his marbles to him, making his chances of winning extremely difficult.
Fortunately Nate missed everything completely so Larry regained his turn with
no damage done. As he settled himself to shoot he glanced at his brother who
was now looking over his shoulder and getting agitated and perturbed. What now?
Larry followed his brother's line of vision and his heart jumped. It was Matt
and Kim and Micah pushing through the crowd. He looked back at Tim. He could
see that his brother was not only distracted but angry and that didn't help his
concentration at all. He went ahead and shot anyway, knocking out another
marble. He had put spin on his shooter. It stopped close to a group of three
marbles. He was so close to winning he
could all most taste it. If he knocked them all out he'd be the winner. He
moved to where his shooter was and crouched down, lining up his shot. Just then
a shouting match broke out. He looked up. Matt and Tim were pushing at each
other and it looked like Matt was trying to start a fight. A couple of big,
beefy security guys were struggling to make their way through the crowd. This
couldn't be good.
Larry knuckled down and took aim,
calming his breathing. In the background he could hear the ruckus start to
escalate. But instead of picturing what was happening between Tim and Matt, in
his mind he saw something different. In his mind he saw all the hours of
practice he'd put in with his brother guiding him, helping him to be the best
player he could be. He saw the countless miles driven on the road with his mom
and brother, and the sacrifices his mom had made taking time off work to drive
he and his brother to tournaments all over the five state area. He even saw an
image of his dad, gone from his life for the last five years, giving him his
first lesson on how to shoot a marble. He saw it all in an instant. He saw the
beauty of the game and how much he loved playing it. He pictured he and Tim in
Atlantic City vying for a national title. He steeled his resolve and let his
breath out, cradling his shooter lightly, knuckles on the ground. Then he let it
fly and watched as it hit one, two and then three marbles knocking them all
out. His shooter spun to a stop well inside the circle. A roar went up from the
crowd. He'd won. Larry didn't hesitate a moment. In an instant he jumped up and
ran across the ring and into the crowd where Tim and Matt were starting to
throw punches. He jumped on Matt and his momentum pushed the larger boy to the
ground. Then Kim jumped in and then Tim piled on, fists swinging. The whole
thing lasted about fifteen seconds. Just long enough for Larry to land a blow
on Matt's nose causing blood to spray all over the place. The two security guys
had finally made it over and were able to pull the boys apart. Someone called
the cops and within a minute a squad car showed up. Five minutes later Matt and
Kim were ushered into it and driven away while Tim and Larry were held by
security until another one arrived. Then a weird thing happened. There was a
ceremony. Larry's victory had not been forgotten. He was brought over to the
marble ring where his match had been played.
After a short and slightly humorous speech by an official from the
National Marble Association in which he mentioned not only Larry's skill with a
shooter, but also his skill with his fist, he was awarded the winner's trophy
along with a check for seven hundred and fifty dollars. There was a nice round
of applause from the large audience. Over the years Larry had developed quite a
following. People really liked him. In just over three weeks he'd be heading to
Atlantic City for the National Marble Tournament finals. Before then, though,
the first thing that was going to happen was that he and his brother were going
to be taking a ride to the Fifth Precinct station in south Minneapolis. There
was talk about them being booked for disturbing the peace and causing a public
disturbance. But there was a general conscientious that Matt and Kim were the
instigators and that Tim and Larry shouldn't be charged with anything. Still,
what happened had happened and now there might be consequences. It was not the
ending to the day that either Larry or Tim had envisioned.
In the end it really didn't turn out
all that bad. One of the tournament officials had followed the squad to the
precinct and vouched for the brothers.
"I don't know anything about those
other two guys," he told the desk sergeant. "All I can say is that
both of these boys are good kids and have never caused me any problems
before." Tim and Larry were standing between the two officers from the
squad car. They stared at the floor with a mixture of shame and embarrassment.
The big question for them was what was their mom going to think? One of the
cops had gotten her number at work and had already called her. "In fact,
this one here..." he indicated Larry, "Just won a big tournament and
is going to represent the entire region next month in Atlantic City." This
seemed to impress the guy behind the desk.
"Really? What'd he win?"
he asked, interested.
"The Midwest Marble
Tournament," the official said proudly. "He's a great little
shooter." Which didn't come across as well as he'd expected it would, but when
all was said and done might at least have counted for something.
There was a conference between the
officers and the desk sergeant and they all decided the best thing was to let
the brothers off with a warning. This was also accompanied by a stern talking
to by one of the officers and a promise from the boys to behave. The general
consensus at the station was that punishment by their mother would be bad
enough and it was. By the time she had picked them up at the Precinct and
brought them home, chewing them out the whole time, they were more sorry for
causing her distress than being dressed down by the cops. As she said as she
pulled into the driveway, "I need to count on you boys to do the right
thing. I thought I'd raised you better than this." Guilt can be a great
motivator sometimes when being a parent and this was one of those times.
"I'm so sorry, mom," was
what they each in their own way said over and over again all the rest of the
day, into the night and even into Monday. "It'll never happen again."
Which may or may not be true, and
even their mom knew that, but she accepted their sentiment at least. As well as
grounding them for a week.
"Stay here in the yard. Don't
go anywhere. Call me every hour when I'm at work." And that's what they
did.
And that might have been the end of
the story except that nothing in life is really truly over. Sometimes, instead,
it's just a doorway to a new beginning.
A few days later on Wednesday the
brothers were out in the garage practicing when they had a surprise visitor.
Larry was working on putting spin on his shooter and Tim was sweeping the floor
in preparation for a game when a voice said, "Hey there guys." They
both looked up. It was Katie, the winner of the girls division. "What are
you all up to?"
Larry got up to greet her. Katie was
a skinny redhead who wore her hair in pigtails. She was a head shorter than
Larry and she liked to wear flower patterned shirts, cut off jeans and hard soled
moccasins. She had about a dozen different kinds of bracelets on her left wrist.
She was shy but friendly. Larry and she had been friends for a couple of years,
sharing not only a love of playing marbles but also of books and reading. They
were in the same grade. "Just practicing," Larry said, reddening just
ever so slightly. "Want to join us?"
Tim gave Katie a wave and finished
his sweeping. Four years ago the boys had set up a mock marble ring in the
garage. It was exactly the same size as what was used in competition, the only
difference being that the surface of theirs was cement. It worked well for
them, though, and they spent countless hours out on it working on their game.
Even now, with him coaching Larry these past few years, Tim still played. "What's up, Katie?" Tim asked,
leaning his broom against the wall. He was noticing something going on between
the two. His mind immediately went to 'boyfriend-girlfriend' but as he thought
about it he just couldn't see it. Not with his brother and Katie, who, even
though she was nice, was still as geeky and awkward as his brother. She even
wore thick glasses, just like he did. No, he just couldn't see it at all. Then
some laughter caught his attention. It seemed that Larry had made a joke that
Katie laughed at while reaching out and touching his arm. It was suddenly apparent
that Larry and Katie seemed very comfortable with each other. Maybe there was
something going on between them that he wasn't aware of.
Katie turned to Tim. "My dad was
wondering if you could help me get ready for the tournament. He's going to be
out of town a lot and won't have much time." Her dad was an airline pilot
and was often gone for three or four days at a time. Tim knew her dad and
thought of him as Ok, just a little pre-occupied, but he liked Katie and
readily agreed. "Sure. I'll be happy to."
"Thanks, Tim." She said
and then looked back at Larry, who smiled at her and gave her a 'thumbs up'
sign. "Where do we begin."
Getting ready for the tournament
meant playing a lot of practice games so Larry and Katie could get used to
taking shots from a variety of positions and distances. Tim also played, as a
third person, and they alternated who played who. It was fun. The more time
Katie spent with Larry, the more Tim saw that there was definitely something
between the two and it made him happy for his little brother.
They practiced four hours a day.
Katie took care of her three younger siblings during the morning until her mom
got home from work, and then she'd come over for pretty much the entire
afternoon. Tim brought down an old boom box and they played their favorite
music while they practiced. Larry contributed his Social Distortion CD's and
Tim played his favorite local punk band, Banner Pilot. Katie got into the
spirit of it all and brought over Courtney Barnett. The kids were serious about
their game, but also having a good time. One day Larry came into the practice
session wearing and old tee-shirt on which he had used tempera paints to print
the words "Knuckling Down Is Good For Your Soul" on the back. Both
Tim and Katie thought it was pretty cool and soon they came up with some more
slogans: "Playing Marbles...It's not just a game but a way of life",
"Once a shooter always a shooter" and "The sun always shines
when you play marbles". Then Tim had an idea.
"Why don't we make up our own
tee-shirts with those sayings on the back? Maybe we could sell them and make some
money."
Katie and Larry readily agreed. "I've
got an idea for the front," Larry said. "A big circle, like the
marble ring, with the marbles as dots forming a cross in the middle. The
tee-shirt could be one color, say black, and the circle could be a different
color, say red and the marbles a different color, say white. You could vary the
color combinations and the sayings on the back." He sat back and smiled.
"And, no, I haven't thought about this much at all," he joked as Tim
and Katie laughed.
"I think it's a great
idea," Katie said. "Let me talk to my mom."
It turned out that Katie's mom was
familiar with the local arts and crafts scene. She knew some people who knew
some people and so on. A few days later, Katie reported back, "My mom
knows someone who would like to talk to you about your idea," she said
looking at Larry.
"Only if you and Tim are with
me," he said, blushing. Tim knew what his brother was getting at. In many
ways his brother was still painfully shy.
Tim and Katie looked at each and
nodded. "Deal," they said simultaneously, making everyone, Larry
included, laugh.
The week before the National Finals they
had another surprise visitor. Micah showed up. He had a black eye, but he was
smiling nevertheless. "Hey, dudes," he said, before he saw Katie, and
then added, "Dudette." Embarrassed.
Tim's hackles went up. "What do
you want?"
Micah spread his hands wide,
"Nothing, friend, I come in peace," making kind of a joke.
Tim chuckled. Micah really wasn't
that bad a guy. He remembered that during the fight Micah had stayed out of it.
Whether it was loyalty to Tim or fear of getting punched was unclear. Tim
decided to cut him some slack. "What happened to your eye?"
"Well, let me tell ya'..."
And Micah told them his story. Seems that Matt was so hot and bothered over getting
punched by Larry that he and Kim wanted to get him for it. "Man, you
should have heard those two. Matt even talked about using a hammer to break the
fingers on that shooter hand of his," Micah said, mimicking a smashing
motion, causing Larry and Katie to flinch. Tim could feel his blood start to
boil, his fists involuntarily starting to clench. Micah laughed and looked at
Tim, putting up his hand. "Hold on there, buddy. He's not going to do
anything." Tim gave him a questioning look. "I kind of convinced him
not to."
"What'd ya' mean?" Tim
asked, confused. Matt was a lot bigger than Micah, who was more or less just
average in size compared to Matt's bigger bulk.
"We got in a fight and I won,"
Micah said, proudly.
"Don't take this wrong, man, but
you've got to be kidding me." Tim knew that Matt was a pretty good
fighter. Plus he was a large, burly kid who wasn't afraid of anyone.
"Nope. I had a secret
weapon."
"What's that?" Both Tim
and Larry, who had been following the conversation closely, asked at the same
time.
"I've been taking karate."
Micah said, grinning. "I've gotten pretty good, too." He mimicked a
judo chop. Tim and Larry and now even Katie were listening, stunned, never
expecting something like this out of Micah. "I nailed him under the jaw
with my elbow." He paused for effect, then laughed again, "He won't
be talking for a long time."
"You broke his jaw?" Tim
asked, stunned.
"Yeah, I did." Micah
answered proudly. "Well, messed it up anyway. Just after he punched me in
the eye." Tim was impressed. So were Larry and Katie. The reason Micah had
come over was to tell them his story and to tell them they wouldn't have to
worry about either Matt or Kim for a long time. If ever. "I think he's
kind of scared of me, now. Kim, too," Micah added, with a smile.
Tim could understand. "Well,
cool." Was all he could think of saying. He meant it. He'd always liked
Micah the best of the three of them. He appreciated that this was Micah's way
of apologizing for what had happened. "Want to hang around here for a
while?"
"Sure." Micah put his bike
up against the side of the garage. "Nice tunes, you got going," He
said, going over to the boom box to check out the CD's. "Is that Social
Distortion?"
"Yeah, it is," Larry said,
as he gave what Tim could have sworn was a wink at Katie. "I'm hoping
maybe they'll bring us good luck."
Micah laughed, "From what I
hear, you and Katie are going to do just fine. Those guys out in Atlantic City
aren't going to know what hit 'em."
Not knowing he was inadvertently
making a joke with his pun on marbles hitting each other, the other three
laughed. Micah laughed, too, with them, just thinking it felt kind of nice to
be included.
When their mom drove up later that
afternoon she had good news for the boys. Katie's mom had called her. She'd
found a local company that was interesting in printing up the tee-shirts. They
still needed to work some design details out with the boys and Katie, but apparently
the idea for the marble slogan tee-shirts was going to be a big hit. They might
even be ready to sell at the tournament next week. However, before she told
them, she just sat in her car for a few minutes watching the kids shoot marbles.
She saw someone new there, Tim's friend Micah. Well, that was good. It was nice
to see her boys with their friends. They were all good kids. Each in their own
way. A mother couldn't really ask for anything else, really. Next week they'd
be heading for Atlantic City. Katie would be joining them. That was another
thing her mother had wanted to talk to her about. Apparently something had come
up and neither she nor her husband could make it to the tournament. And that
was fine, Katie was more than welcome to come with them. All she wanted was for
her sons to grow up to be decent people. So far there had been a few bumps in
the road, but, really everything was going along pretty well. If playing
marbles helped make life a little easier who was she to stop them? Maybe that
could be another slogan for them "Playing Marbles Makes For A Better
Life". Naw, she shook her head. Sounded kind of stupid, even if maybe it
really was true.
She got out of the car and
waved."I'm home." She smiled and the boys and their friends smiled
back and waved. They went back to their game. Larry was playing against Katie,
and he was knuckling down and setting up a shot, Tim and Micah watching. The
National tournament was just a week away. Hundreds of kids would be participating
in front of thousands of spectators. For now it was just a warm summertime day
and a game of marbles being played on a garage floor. Katie was wearing a
tee-shirt with one of the boy's slogans on it: "Playing Marbles...It's not
just a game, but a way of life, and that's a GOOD thing." She smiled to
herself as she walked over to watch them play, thinking that maybe when all was
said and done, they were right.
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