It felt like someone threw a bucket of cold water in my face. I had been sleeping soundly and I should have slept until well past 6:00 a.m. However, I was suddenly chilled to the bone. I sat up abruptly in bed fully aware that something was desperately wrong somewhere within my sphere of influence. After a few seconds I realized it had to be my friend David Wright who was in distress. I knew I shouldn't be calling him at that time of the morning but something inside me was punching the compel button, and I had to make the call. He must have caller ID, he said, "Hello Don" before I could identify myself. Trying to disguise the alarm in my voice I played it cool and quietly said, "Youre up early." His voice was desperate and dark; " Well I guess I'm up a little early but I had to get up to find the bullets for my gun."
"Yes. When the kids were growing up, I hid the gun in one place and the bullets in another. This morning I found the gun right away but it took me 30 minutes to find the bullets."
Fear crawled up from my stomach and into my throat. I knew I had to carefully choose every word. I already knew what was wrong but I played dumb. "David, what are doing right now?"
I'm looking down the barrel of my gun and I've already left a note for you."
"A note. What does it say?"
"It tells Paula to call you before they remove my carcass."
"I want you to come over and write a message in my blood. I've positioned myself over the sports page so when I slump over I will cover the paper with my blood. I want to wear the paper in my coffin and I want the coffin to be open for public viewing. When you get here, dip your finger in my blood and write on the wall, "The Manual coaches killed a good man, and I want them to be pall bearers at my funeral. They owe me."
"David how long have we been friends?"
"Longer than I can remember."
"It has been a long time. I can remember when you single handedly carried Preston Gray until he was a High School All American."
"Yes -Yes, I remember. It seems like it was only yesterday."
"It was only yesterday. Now in honor of our long standing friendship I want you to put the gun down and wait until I get there."
"I think I can wait, but you better hurry."
"I'm on my way."
When I got to his home I talked him to going to the hospital. On the way he mumbled over and over. "I can't stand any more pain. I live for Manual football. It's my hobby. My joy. My advocation. My field of study. Every year I think the team will play respectable football and sometimes they do but the team can never over come the stupidity of the coaches. Last night we had the game won. All they had to do was tell the punt returner to get away from the ball. And why did they pass when the ground game was working to perfection? Oh woe woe woe." Back To Menu