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Enough is Enough

Peter J Barbour

    “Who’s that?” Patrick whispered to Joe.
    “That’s Lester Stanmore, a sophomore. He’s new,” Joe responded. “You’re a co-captain. You are supposed to know everyone.”
    “Do you think he’ll make it through summer practice?” Patrick asked as he looked Stanmore up and down. “My first impression is - I don’t think so.”
    “Summer practice is tough,” Joe said. “I hate the heat and humidity. Two sessions per day. I guess we’ll see,” Patrick headed to his locker.
    Joe approached Lester. “Hi, new here?”
    Lester directed his gaze down and shuffled his feet, unable to make eye contact with Joe.
    Joe frowned, tempted to wave Lester off, but despite Lester’s off-putting awkwardness, Joe extended his hand and said, “Welcome.”
    Lester raised his head but still unable to make eye contact with Joe, hesitated, before shaking Joe’s hand. “Thanks,” he said in a soft, timid voice.
    Lester’s sojourn on the football team was short. Who wouldn’t have bailed given the harassment he received? Face pocked with acne, not very smart, little talent, no friends, and shy made Lester an easy target for Tony.
    In 1965, the preseason commitment to football during the last three weeks of summer was complete. Between the double practice sessions, the team ate lunch together and received a brief chalk talk from Coach Renshaw. After which, the entire team napped in the annex, a room with padded floors and walls, normally used by wrestlers.
    Morning session began at 0700. “Take a lap,” Coach shouted. Everyone began a slow lap around the field. At the first turn, Joe looked back to see who was lagging. Lester Stanmore brought up the rear with Tony.
    Tony, a senior, was also a new member of the team and associated with Lester by virtue of always being last. Tony struggled to gain the respect of the other team members on the field. So, he sought to impress in other ways.

***
    “Time to rest,” Coach Renshaw announced as he wrapped up his post-lunch talk. “Captains are in charge.”
    The experienced players respected rest time. Not Tony, a popular guy at school, leader of the “cool crowd.” Dubbed the boss, he ruled the halls and enjoyed his reputation for frequent trips to the Assistant Principal’s office. Bucking Tony meant standing up to his posse. Tony loved to garner attention feeding his narcissism at every turn.

***
    Joe approached the co-captains, Patrick and Nick. “You guys are responsible for keeping order during the rest period,” Joe said. “Stop Tony from harassing Lester. It’s keeping me up.”
    “Tony is just having fun,” Patrick said, and they both turned and walked away.
    Joe shook his head. Fun for Tony not for Lester.

***
    The coaches closed the doors to the annex. Everyone settled onto the mats. The room was quiet but not for long.
    “Lester, you suck,” Tony called out.
    Lester didn’t respond.
    Tony threw a wadded-up piece of paper at Lester.
    Lester jumped up and ran at Tony. Tony laughed, dodging, weaving, avoiding capture. Lester’s face turned beet red. He balled his hands into fists. His eyes became slits. He growled like an angry dog as he chased Tony. Try as he might to grab him, Tony stayed narrowly out of reach.
    They stopped running and stared at each other before returning to their corners like two boxers heeding the round-ending ring of the bell. Lester wore a scowl, mouth turned down, head bent forward, as he stared at Tony. Tony grinned as he scanned the room before taking a bow. This became the daily routine.
    Joe lay still, observed, and said nothing. When is enough, enough? I should butt in. We are supposed to rest. I’m tired.
    He had spoken to the co-captains. They were inclined to do nothing. The hazing of Lester Stanmore wasn’t right or fair, but life isn’t fair. Should I make it my business or continue to pretend I didn’t care, but I do care? The former, however, was expedient, it didn’t oppose the perceived majority. Do I have a stake in this? But shouldn’t Lester be able to defend himself without me? He doesn’t need me. Joe remained conflicted. Silence is complicit. Joe continued to say nothing.

***
    Coach Renshaw shouted above the din of talking, laughter, and music “Time to rest, forty-five minutes to recharge before returning to the field. Radios off. Think about your assignments.” Once Coach departed, Tony started in on Lester.
    “Lester, your mommy is calling you,” Tony called out.
    Soft laughter followed encouraging Tony. Lester didn’t respond. Tony escalated his attack. Joe covered his ears and tried to ignore the scene.
    “Lester,” Tony said again in a high sing-song voice. “Did you remember to shower after practice? I can smell youuu. You stink.” Tony popped up, pinched his nose, pulled a can of deodorant from his pocket, and sprayed it in Lester’s direction. The thick scent of English Leather filled the room.
    More laughter egged Tony on.
    “Lester, can you hear meee?” Tony said. “I’m calling youuu.”
    Lester lay still. This failure to arouse Lester launched Tony into more aggressive action. Joe just wanted to rest. Should I buck Tony? Defend Lester? Will it be worth the wrath of Tony directed at me? It really isn’t my business, but maybe it should be.
    With dramatic mime-like movements, Tony crouched low and circled around behind Lester. Choking back laughter, Tony stood over Lester and looked around. He had everyone’s attention but hadn’t aroused Lester’s.
    He paused to heighten the drama, rocked back and forth, and then jumped high into the air landing on Lester’s back. Lester screamed and jumped up, eyes wide, mouth open, then his brow furrowed, lips pressed tight. He swung a fist at Tony. Tony ducked under the punch.
    Lester reached for Tony. His long arms churned the air as he tried to grab his tormenter who goaded him into a chase. Two dervishes caromed around the room, bouncing off the padded walls, and jumping over and around the other resting players. Tony stayed just far enough out of reach not to be caught.
    Tony laughed as he taunted Lester, “Can’t catch me. You’re too slow,” Lester tired and returned to his place on the mat. “Had enough?”
    Tony bragged that Lester’s long arms and loping gait reminded him of the mighty King Kong. He dubbed Lester, Kong, a nickname that stuck.
    As Lester quit the chase, Tony shouted, “Kong is dead,”
    The rest periods between the two sessions of practice each day were Tony’s time. As the days passed, Joe turned away when the bating began and bit his lip, angry at himself for not intervening. Joe talked to the co-captains again. They ignored him. Each day the teasing became more vicious and chasing more prolonged.

***
    Day ten, the chase started. Lester groped for Tony, unsuccessful as always. Tony stopped, picked up a strap, and turned on Lester. He whipped the strap back and forth as he chased Lester around the room. They jumped over teammates stumbled and fell stepping on people disturbing everyone.
    “Get off me,” someone shouted and shoved Lester away.
    Lester approached Joe’s side of the room. Tony ran close behind swinging the strap. Joe jumped up as Lester passed him and blocked Tony’s way. Tony stopped, looked at Joe, and stepped to his right. Joe mirrored Tony’s movement and filled the space between Lester and Tony. Rage spread across Tony’s face. He raised his arm as he appeared prepared to swing the belt at Joe. Joe grabbed it and tore it from his hand. Tony’s eyes widened. His brow scrunched tight as he stared at Joe.
    Lester stopped running. He appeared confused. After a week and a half of torment, this was his first reprieve. “Why’d you butt in?” Lester asked Joe. He sounded bewildered.
    Joe ignored Lester and continued to stare into Tony’s eyes. He stepped into Tony’s space, nose to nose, and shouted, “Enough is enough.” Tony surveyed his audience as he appeared to seek support but found none.
    Joe turned to Lester. “Sorry, I didn’t act sooner.” He looked down, ashamed it took him so long to engage.
    When Coach Renshaw retrieved the team from the annex at the end of the rest period, nothing further was said.
    Tony didn’t return to the field that afternoon. He handed in his equipment and quit. His reign of terror ended. As Tony departed, he pointed a finger at Joe.
    “Let him bring it on,” Joe said under his breath, turned his back, and walked away, unintimidated.
    Lester stayed on the team only a short time after Tony departed. He left less than one week before the regular season began. When Tony heard that Lester Stanmore had split with the team, he responded with a mean laugh, and shouted, “Kong is dead.”

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