The head coach, an old high-school football buddy, spotted
him as he drove up and called out to Marco, who kicked the soccer ball to one
of his friends and ran over to climb into the back seat of the truck. As usual,
he was bursting with enthusiasm and had plenty to talk about.
“Dad, do you think I can get on the third-grade soccer team
this summer? After all, I’m big for my
age, and I’ll turn eight in November.”
Bram pulled away from the curb and turned the truck toward
town.
“Sorry son, I think you’ll have to stay with your own grade
level. Those guys will be glad to have a guy your size on their side.”
As soon as it had become evident that Marco would be another
overgrown, overactive chip off the ol’ Chandler block, Bram signed him up for
every activity Lynnwood Elementary’s after-school sports program had to offer.
That strength and energy had to be channeled. He didn’t want Marco getting into
the kind of trouble he’d gotten into when he was growing up. Nothing serious.
Just teen-age high jinks.
Most of it.
His mind veered away from what he didn’t want to remember.
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