The Coach

Chapter 3
Barbeque Time

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Chapter Description: The team has a cook-out and the regression continues.

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By the time his head had cleared, Gabe found himself sitting in a hot car alone in the supermarket parking lot. For a moment he felt lost, and then fragments of the last few hours came back to him:

Practice... The scene in the showers... Helping Jackson... The Coach... His shots... Meeting his mom... The BBQ...

At first he couldn’t think why it all felt so weird inside his head; why his memories were so muddled...and then it came to him: the shots. Coach had said there would be a little side-effect. But it had also worn-off, just like he’d said. Gabe felt practically back to normal, not at all giddy like before, or silly.

God, I must have been acting like a little kid, he thought disgustedly. Vaguely he even remembered having trouble tying his shoes...how embarrassing.

He shook his head, clearing it, just as his mom returned, her hands full of groceries. Quickly Gabe slipped out of the passenger seat to help her load them into the back of the car.

“The party today should be fun,” his mom said cheerfully.

“Yeah, I think so,” Gabe replied.

“I know your coach was happy that we offered to help him host the barbeque...could you imagine a single guy like him trying to pull this off alone?” She laughs at the notion. “But we were more than happy, after everything he’s done for you boys...”

Gabe flushed hot with embarrassment. “Yeah yeah mom, I know, he knows. Don’t get all gooey.”

“Oh shush,” she said back, playfully smacking his arm. “Now let’s hurry home. We have a lot of work to do.”

By the time they’d made it over to Coach Taylor’s house, there were already a few cars parked up and down the road outside.

“It must be some of his staff,” Gabe’s mom said.

“Well I bet they’re hungry...we better hurry-up with this stuff and get to cooking!”

Watching his mother as she unloaded her food with one hand and fished out her keys with another, Gabe marveled at the fact that his mother only seemed happiest when she was taking care of other people. And she also tended to go a little crazy about it, too.

In a minute the two of them were walking through the front-door of Coach Taylor’s home. Gabe’s mom took an immediate left towards the kitchen; Gabe kept on straight, walking towards the backyard to see who else was already there. As he neared the backdoor, he recognized soft music playing in the house...a second later, he realized it was the same music his mom kept playing in their house.

Hmmm, he muttered to himself. He couldn’t really understand what the appeal of the sound was: it just seemed repetitive to him. Apparently it was supposed to increase concentration...that’s what his mom had told him a few weeks ago when she’d first started playing it...but all it did for Gabe was make him faintly irritated.

Shaking his head a bit, Gabe walked out into the fresh air. The first person he saw was...no surprise...Coach. Lifting his hand, Gabe smiled.

“Hey kiddo,” Coach said, smiling back, as he walked across the yard to greet him. As he walked up, Coach Taylor warmly grabbed Gabe’s shoulder. “How you been holdin’ up?”

“Oh, you know, Coach, I’ve just been practicing...training up.”

“Good, good.” Coach nodded and then smiled again. “I’m glad to hear it.” He clasped the seventeen-year-old tighter. “How’d those shots treat you?” he asked concernedly.

At first Gabe doesn’t know what to say, but he settles on the truth...he’s talking to Coach, after all. He can be blunt.

“It made me feel like...I don’t know...kind of silly, or something.”

“But it wore off, right?” Gabe nodded.

“Good...glad to hear it. I told you there’d be some side-effects...”

Gabe laughed, cutting him off. “You could say that again, Coach. They made me feel higher than a fucking kite.”

Coach Taylor laughed too. “How do you feel now, though?”

“Pretty good, I guess. I’ve been sort of tired lately, and kind of foggy. But a concussion’ll do that to you, right?”

“Absolutely.” Coach clasps Gabe shoulder again, and pushes him forward. “Now go on, G: I think I saw Jackson around here somewhere. You two meatheads should go get yourselves into some trouble.”

Nodding, Gabe walked off, leaving Coach Taylor alone. A second later, Coach spotted Christian coming from the house. He smiled and waved the younger man over.

“Glad to see you came out to the party, Christian.”

“Aw, it was no problem Coach. I didn’t have that much on my plate today other than some yard work, and I know you wanted everyone here for the barbeque.”

“Still, you made an effort, and I appreciate that.” Coach turned to Christian. “I’m trying to build team unity, and you’re new on staff, and coming out here really helps me. So thank you.”

Christian shook his head. “No problem Coach. You’re welcome.”

Coach Taylor smiled. “So...how have you been feeling?” he asks with a meaningful look.

“Oh?...Oh!” Christian ducks his head a bit and lowers his voice. “Better than I thought. Those shots that you got a hold of really must be magic or something. I don’t feel any side-effects.”

“Really: nothing?”

“Well, now that you’re asking...” Christian’s chiseled, youthful features grew shifty.

“Spill it, kiddo,” Coach ordered.

“Well, I’ve been feeling a little off, sometimes after my injections.”

“How?”

“Just...things get a little fuzzy, I don’t know. But talking to you about it now,” Christian ducks his head embarrassedly, “just makes it seem dumber.”

Looking up at him for confirmation to his fears, the younger man looks even more like a teenager seeking his father’s approval. The coach just smiles warmly.

“I’m sure it’s fine...as long as they wear off, ok? I mean, you seem fine now, right?”

“Totally.”

Except for the fact that you’re actually like another of my high school jocks, Coach Taylor thought, laughing to himself.

“Ok then, that’s all I wanted to know. And I’m glad to see you’re settling in with everyone else...”

He noticed that Christian’s eyes had wandered to some of the prettier girls now in attendance. Without hesitating, Coach Taylor smacked Christian’s butt twice, hard...slap slap. Flushing red with shame, Christian turned back to the older man.

“Be respectful when someone is talking to you, boy.” The coach’s voice was firm, offering no defense.

“Yessir,” Christian mumbled back, lowering his eyes.

“Good. Now go on, go mess around with some of your buddies...mingle, Christian. It’s what this is for.” And with that, he swatted his newest coach on the butt once more, which sent the younger man scampering off.

Smiling to himself, Coach Taylor leaned against a deck chair and surveyed his party...now in full-swing.

Some of his players were gathered in little groups here and there throughout the lawn. At first glance the way they were acting seemed completely normal for teenage boys: there was punching-of-shoulders, and laughing-at-bad-jokes, and even the occasional cussing. But Coach Taylor knew just how to look at them to spot the subtle differences: the jokes that were more childish than they should be (even for teenage football players), the playful punches that occasionally resulted in a pronounced pout, or the cuss word that led to a furtive glance to see if any parents had noticed.

Already they were regressing quite nicely, and not a single person had noticed.

Of course, when Coach Taylor looked in another direction, he saw Christian in a small group with four of his other coaches, and just as before their behavior was nothing out of the ordinary...at least on the surface. When he looked closer he noticed that, too, his coaches were falling under the effects of his plan. Christian, as well as two of his colleagues...a 23-year-old Abercombie-look-alike named Tyler and a 24-year-old named Carter that Coach Taylor had always thought looked too much like Ryan Reynolds for his own good...were clearly being messed with by the two older men (both fit thirtysomethings) and they were taking it in stride. But on further inspection the jokes and jibes weren’t just part of a routine hazing; there was an element of aggression here. Here it felt like men making fun of boys...and the three younger coaches did nothing to act their age. They went along well enough with the insults, but even across the yard Coach Taylor could see it was breaking them down, making them feel more vulnerable, less adult.

In the next moment one of the two older coaches pulled Carter to him, yanked down his pants, and spanked him, three times, across his black-and-white striped boxers. It took all of five seconds for Carter’s adult fa?ade to melt as tears sprang to his eyes. Sensing this, and in order to avoid a scene, the coach who had spanked him (presumably for speaking out of turn, or not paying enough respect, or maybe for using profanity) put his arm around Carter, drew him to his side, and guided him into the house. As they passed by, Coach Taylor gave the man a look, which was returned, and a small head nod. He could hear that Carter was sniffling.

Pretty soon, they won’t even remember they were coaches, Coach Taylor thought to himself, And thanks to this music, this wonderful, repetitive, subliminal music, no one else that isn’t trained for it will either.

Tomorrow he’d up the stakes a bit: it was time that his team full of young men realized that they weren’t anything close to that. By now they were nothing more than a bunch of well-muscled, handsome boys...little boys. And by practice the next day, they’d feel like that too, inside and out.

Smiling to himself again, Coach Taylor turned toward the grill and headed over to get some food. He had quite the long week ahead of him.

From across the backyard, Gabe had seen what had happened to Carter. At first he’d been shocked: he couldn’t wrap his head around one of his coaches being spanked by another in front of everyone. It was so...so...demeaning. It made him feel humiliated just by association.

“You ok dude?” Jackson asked, shaking Gabe out of his thoughts.

“Yeah...yeah...hey: did you see what just happened to Carter?”

Turning to his friend, Gabe saw Jackson shake his head, no.

“What happened?” he asked.

“It was the weirdest thing, man. I don’t know...it’s like, I saw Carter over there with the other coaches, you know with Christian and Tyler and Coach Johnson and Reid, and they were all joking and laughing and stuff. And then out of nowhere, Coach Johnson just grabbed Carter, pulled his pants down, and, like, smacked him on the butt.”

“You mean he spanked him?” Jackson couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.

“Yeah, right...that’s so strange.”

“Well what do you think Carter did?” Gabe was struck by the question.

“What do you mean, what did he do?”

“Well, I guess there had to be a reason Coach Johnson did it.”

“Look, Jackson, there’s no reason for a guy to be stripped to his boxers and spanked by another dude in public. That’s just weird.” Gabe tried to stress the awkwardness of the situation...impress it on Jackson.

His friend nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But, I mean...I don’t know...Coach Taylor runs a pretty tight ship. He wouldn’t just let one of his coaches go all psycho.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Gabe agreed cautiously, not sure where this was going.

“So, I mean...that must mean there’s a reason, right?” Jackson looked at Gabe with an imploring glance, trying to get him to see his logic.

“I don’t know, man...that’s just weird.”

“Come on, G: it’s Coach Johnson...it’s Coach Taylor. What would they ever do to us, or to one of the coaches, to hurt us? If Carter was out of line, then I’m sure they just wanted him to know he did something wrong. It’s just like if I fumble a pass too many times in a row during practice. Remember last week? I just couldn’t keep the ball in my hands. So Coach Reid just came over and swatted me. Yeah, it made me feel like a little kid again, but it also motivated me.”

“Huh,” Gabe said in reply, nodding along now. “I guess that makes sense kind of.” In his head he was still struggling with the idea of Carter, who was a young man, true, but still an adult, being disciplined so publically, but the longer he thought about it, the fuzzier it all seemed until he was forced to agree with his best friend.

“Of course it does, man,” Jackson said in reply. “Now come on, let’s find some girls.” He laughed and shoved Gabe who immediately shoved him back. As the two of them walked off, they failed to see Mack standing next to Coach Taylor, his thumb firmly in his mouth, teary-eyed, as he received a stern “talking-to” about using the f-word in polite company...

 

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