Blood, Sweat and Tears Part 49
Treize shook his head as he tossed the morning news paper aside to enjoy with a look of disgust. The cover landed face-up to reveal the image of two major league baseball players that had announced that they were gay just the day before. In bold letters, the heading read, 'The Movement Continues.'
Growling deeply, the head coach cut into his eggs as he muttered, "Damn queers are making a mockery of sports. I don't know how the hell those bastards can live with themselves."
Sylvia entered the dining room with a pitcher of orange juice and took her seat across from her husband. "Now dear," she soothed with a bit of sternness, "No need for name calling. Who are we to judge other people?"
Adding syrup to her pancakes, she shrugged, "Personally, I think it's wonderful that the public at large is getting a reality check to some of their preconceived notions of gay people."
His eyes narrowing, Treize looked up at her and snapped, "Yuy and Maxwell should be ostracized for what they helped start! Instead, they're being treated like damned heroes!" His wife's eyes widened in a hurt look and he quickly calmed himself with a deep sigh. "I'm sorry," he frowned, "I just don't... like this whole mess."
"It's opinions like that I don't like," Sylvia commented quietly. "Perhaps this will help open your eyes a bit to the reality that the world is filled with people that are different. Instead of shunning those differences, people need to start appreciating them more. It would be a terribly boring life to live in if we were all the same."
Instead of yelling at her for her sickening sugar-sweet demeanor as he wanted to, the head coach forced a smile and nodded firmly, "You're right my dear, of course. I will do my best to try and be a little more open-minded from here out."
She gave him a brilliant, loving smile before enjoying her meal. Fighting his churning stomach, Treize shoveled down the last of his own breakfast.
* * * * * *
Alex was not fairing much better than Treize that morning, himself. After only a few days of rejoicing in the news of Maxwell's fumble that helped cost his team a victory for their last game, his biggest competition was being revered once again.
"I just don't get it," the blonde running back hissed as he threw his long-sleeved shirt on for practice that day. "There's almost nothing that bastard can do wrong. He's the reason his team lost over a week ago, but you didn't hear about that a whole lot over the news."
Rolling his eyes, Mueller finished changing on the other half of the room and replied, "Fumbles happen, Alex. You've had a couple this season, too, even if we were still able to win those games in the end. No one is perfect."
His lover spun to face him as he yelled, "Who the fuck's side are you on here, Mueller!? You know that Maxwell is a thorn in my side and you're actually defending him!?"
Without balking, the tight end met the glare on him with one of his own. "I'm only trying to give you a reality check since those damned drugs in your system are doing a good job of clouding your reason," he answered shortly.
"No one is perfect. Including yourself. You have a grudge against someone who has done nothing to hurt you directly, he's just doing his damned job. You're earning your own merit for how you've been improving, so wake up and be happy with that."
Swallowing roughly, Alex lowered his head a bit. Silently mulling over his partner's words, he tried to make their logic sink in past his rage. "Okay," he finally managed. "I'll try."
When his lover seemed fine with that, the running back headed for the door while advising, "We better get going soon. Treize told me and the others he's assisting that he wants us to throw this next game since we've won every face-off up to now and he doesn't want to raise flags. We can take it easy this week."
Once he was alone, Mueller sighed and shook his head. "What have I gotten myself into?" he frowned. With his career on the line, he knew that he was stuck with laying in the bed that he made for himself.
Maybe things would get better with time.... At least he hoped that they would.
* * * * * *
Crumpling up his own copy of the morning's newspaper, Nathan Gallow tossed it into his trash bin with a sharp, "Damn it! The way this whole scenario played out, those two are going to come out smelling like roses."
Karen sat before his desk, filing her nails with an amused look on her face. "I don't understand why you're so frustrated," she shrugged. "You got the story that you wanted and then some. The fact that you pressured them into publicly outing themselves is nothing short of amazing."
The wiry journalist growled deeply, "But I want more than that. I need something that will really hit them hard for walking out on me." He tapped the fingers of his right hand on his chin in thought.
Finally settling the matter in his head, Nathan told his associate, "I'm going to have you keep an eye on them from time to time. That'll keep you from drawing alarm that they're being watched. Even if nothing newsworthy comes up, there would have to be something that we could embellish on to turn it around."
Gallow snorted and continued, "Much like what we thought we were doing this last time, except for the fact that what we were fabricating turned out to be true. This time, we need to have something that really sticks."
Chuckling, Karen lowered her nail file and replied, "Whatever you say, boss. You know I'm always up for an adventure."
* * * * * *
"Mail's here," Quatre announced on his way back into the Yuy household. His arms filled with envelopes of many shapes, sized and colors, he joined his friends in the living room. Already sitting up from where they had been curled up together on the couch, Heero and Duo appraised the stack of letters the agent left on the table.
Snorting, the running back mused, "Now where to start first." Picking up a standard sized envelope, he tore open the back and removed the folded paper within.
Even before their pubic statement, the couple was used to receiving mail from fans and spectators on a daily basis. Since their 'outing', as they jokingly called it, there were some noticeable differences.
First was the fact that Duo's mail was no longer forwarded through a system that prevented the senders from knowing his exact location. Everyone now knew that he was residing with Heero and so all of the letters were addressed alike.
Then there was the actual volume of the mail that came in. It had more than doubled and showed no signs of slowing down any time soon.
Of course a good portion of those letters were enraged rants from writers who were not afraid to voice their disappointment and disgust for what the pair were 'doing to the sport'. After a quick skim through, those letters were tossed aside into the 'trash pile' to be shredded after the initial sort through.
Much to both Heero and Duo's surprise, however, the 'good pile' consisting of letters of support and kind words always rose higher than the 'shed pile.' Each letter in the 'good pile' would be read from start to finish and responded to.
Quatre retuned to the living room with a garbage bag and a smile as he gladly tossed the letters for shredding away. Smiling sadly as he closed the bag, he watched his friends reading through the supportive mail.
While neither athlete seemed to let the harsh words in the less than kind letters bother them, the agent knew that they were not completely immune to them. They were still human beings, after all.
In time, the sting would fade and they would come out all the stronger for it. The only people that really mattered in the end were the ones who still accepted them for who they were. Luckily, they were outnumbering the naysayers.
Duo shook his head in wonder as he folded a letter that he had finished reading. "I can't believe that we're getting encouragement from other players and coaches in the league." Waving the paper to his lover, he grinned, "Terry Bradshaw the fifteenth of the Minnesota Olympians sends his regards and congrats." [1]
Heero's eyes widened as he carefully took the letter up to read himself. When he reached the end, he smiled, "I'll be damned." Gesturing to a short stack of mail he had been going through, he said, "I have a few here from some commentators and journalists as well." His eyes widening, Duo blinked in surprise.
"Well, it seems you both have even more fans than you realized," Quatre commented. Tilting his head, he decided to change gears and asked, "So how is practice coming for this weekend's game?"
Shrugging, the running back answered, "Good. There's not much that we can do to prepare for the weather in Miami this weekend. After playing in temperatures from fifty and below, it'll be weird to be going into a game where the weather will be over eighty. We haven't seen those temps since the summer."
Beside him, Heero winced, "Last season, we have a couple of our guys come pretty damn close to having heat stroke from overdoing it."
* * * * * *
That following morning, just before practice, Sally was sitting with the coaching staff and sighed, "The worst part about overheating one's body is that there are really no signs warning a person that there is something seriously wrong and they need to rest. As badly as everyone on the team wants this win, I'm afraid that some of them will push themselves over the brink and seriously hurt themselves."
Running a hand through his long bangs, Zechs nodded, "I understand your concern, Sally. I'm also worried about the same thing. But just like out last game, there is nothing we can do to prepare for weather conditions. We have to remain in our city to practice and we're not going to reach the temperatures that Miami is seeing right now."
Smirking at that, the physical therapist held up a handful of large, black trash bags. "Actually," she began, "I think I may have come up with something that could help in this case."
Zechs, Howard and Trent all shared a confused look.
* * * * * *
Later that same day, everyone on the field was wearing one of those trash bags. Their arms, heads and legs poking through holes made in the thick material, they ran a couple plays. All the while, they were sweating profusely.
On the sideline, Sally held up another bag and explained to the young men on the bench, "See, black plastic like this absorbs the sun and heat like a magnet. Even though it's just over fifty degrees outside today, it feels like it's over ninety for the players on the field right now. A little sun makes all the difference, and it's going to be clear all day."
Heads nodded in understanding down the line. Sally folded her hands behind her back and stated, "Now, as I told the others that are using these bags at this time, I want you to pay attention to how you feel. Pay close attention to the warning signs that your body is trying to give you when you start to overheat."
A whistle blew at Heero's signaling for a time out before another snap of the football. Taking his time to step off the field along with the others, he headed right for his bottle of water while wiping the sweat from his brow.
More than pleased at the timing of the break, the physical therapist turned back to her pupils. "Just like that," she nodded firmly. "The last thing that anyone here needs is anyone pushing themselves too far."
Arms folded, Zechs ordered the second and third-stringers, "Get those bags on and start running laps. The second you don't want to keep going, take a break and get some water. This is to make sure you don't forget what overheating feels like when it comes time for the game."
Fixing the anxious eyes on him with a stern look, the head coach advised, "You're all going to be seeing more action for this one game than you have all season so far. The starters know to step down when they need a rest, so most of you will be filling their shoes."
Wide smile lit the back-up players at the thought of having their own chance to get some time on the field during a regular season game. A warm grin on his own face, Zechs told his men, "Make it count."
At that, the back up athletes quickly threw on the trash bags and started running around the field. Lightly patting the braided young woman on the back, the head coach praised, "Excellent idea, Sally. This is just what we needed." She gave a wide smile of appreciation for the acknowledgement.
Finally managing to control his panting, Duo tugged at the plastic around his torso. Face drenched, he murmured, "I'm sweating in places I didn't even know I had." Those close enough to hear all nodded their damp heads.
"It should do the trick for this weekend's game," Wufei replied after a long drink from his water bottle. He winced after sniffing near his right arm. "Lena wouldn't touch me with a ten-foot pole right now," he snickered.
Snickering, the running back replied, "Yea, and it'd be nice if you stood a little more downwind for my sake, Chang. You reek." Narrowly avoiding the hit meant for the back of his braided head, his laughter grew. Heero and Trowa just smirked and shook their heads in amusement.
Not far from them, Sally was busy looking over some of the first-stringers who seemed to be having the most trouble cooling down.
Checking their vitals and sending a couple of her patients off to the locker room to hit the showers early, she was very happy with the results of her little idea since everyone was getting a good sense of where their boundaries were.
Their confidence growing by the day with their new preparation, the Wolverines were more than ready to put their past mistakes behind them.
* * * * * *
The flight to Miami went smoothly and the team was making their way through the airport terminal to collect their bags. On their way, several people stopped to watch the pack, but mostly focused on Heero and Duo. Aware of the eyes on them, the couple just looked ahead and ignored the stares as best they could.
"Still no regrets?" the American asked quietly with a small smile in place.
Taking up his lover's hand and squeezing it, Heero reassured just as softly, "Not a one." He made no move to let go as they continued to make their way through the airport. His smile growing, Duo squeezed his partner's hand back.
Whatever reactions their little show of affection may have caused amongst the bystanders went completely unnoticed.
* * * * * *
There was an electricity in the air on game morning. After almost two weeks since their last game, the Wolverines were pumping with adrenaline to have their chance to take the field again. Little was said amongst the teammates as they prepared in the visiting team's locker room at Dolphin Stadium.
"Well, folks," Tim smiled to the camera in the commentator booth high in the stands, "we have been looking forward to Pittsburgh's return and the day is finally here. The question on everyone's mind is whether or not they'll be able to overcome the crushing loss they suffered two Sundays ago when they faces off against Baltimore. If not, their 'Cinderella' story may have officially reached its end."
Adam nodded, "That's right, Tim. This week the weather will be the biggest challenge for the Wolverines once again. Only instead of a torrential downpour, this time they will be up against heat that they have not seen for months now.
"When they beat Miami in the preseason, the temperature did not play anywhere near the factor that it will today. We'll see in a moment if they can keep themselves together in the sight of another climate change."
Back in the locker room, Duo finished streaking a thick line of grease under each eye just as the coaching staff entered. Everyone turned to the three young men when Zechs began, "I know how anxious all of you are to get another win under your belts."
Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Just be mindful of what you went through this week in knowing how far you can push. Don't be afraid to sit out and let someone else take the field if you need to rest like we've discussed. It's about time that we let some of the others shine for a bit after all of their hard work."
Not a single starter spoke up in argument. In fact, they all smirked and nodded firmly to their backups. They were just excited over the prospect as their supportive 'brothers' were.
All around, he was given nods and other signs of affirmatives from his team. Smiling, he said, "Okay. Let's go." A loud roar from his players rose as they rose to their feet and charged down the hall.
TBC...
[1] Just something for the football fans, Terry Bradshaw is a football legend, so I thought to carry his name on in respect. *winks*
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