“Okay, boys, I suspect you all have food poisoning and it’s only going to get worse from here on out. Let’s head over to the clinic so we can get the rest of you checked out, so I know how we need to proceed.”
“What do you mean, Coach?” Junior asks, wiping at his mouth. I note he and several others have moved spots from where he was originally, and realize I need to move this fiasco along, or the staff that keeps the field in pristine condition is going to be cursing all of us.
“Thinking tomorrow’s game needs to be called off, Junior,” I reply. “Let’s move it, boys.”
“Coach, they’re our biggest rival,” Timmers ghastly states with a forlorn look crossing his face. “We can’t forfeit!” he protests.
“We can, and we will. None of you boys are in any condition to play football, and the nausea and cramping is only going to get worse,” I inform them, preparing them what they're facing while remembering my own bout with food poisoning several years ago. I thought I was dying, and at one point, was positive I had thrown up food I consumed in my earlier childhood years. I even swore I was seeing my stomach lining at one point, but my mom told me it was hallucinations from the fever.
“While you’re getting checked over, I’ll see if I can snag a bus to take you guys home. No way are any of you who drive getting behind the wheel in your condition. Your folks can come back later this evening and grab your vehicles for you.”
“Sorry, Coach,” Timmers mumbles as I drop him off.
“Not yours or anyone else’s fault, buddy,” I reply.
I only ended up taking a handful of the kids home because several ended up being transported to the hospital from the school’s clinic, and a few of the boys called their parents who came and picked them up from the resource office. Once I get done taking the bus back, I’ll be heading to the hospital to check on my boys.
Tonight’s gonna be a long night; I’ve already called the coach from the rival school, as well as the division officials. At the end of the day, I’m not worried about one loss because to date, we’re undefeated, so our team should still make the county playoffs at the end of the season.
Apparently, not only my team was impacted; it seems that anyone who ate the school lunch has taken ill. The last I heard, the principal was in communication with the superintendent to see about closing school tomorrow, and possibly Monday, to allow the kids to get better while the kitchen is completely cleaned and disinfected.
“See you Monday, Coach,” Timmers says before walking up his driveway, shoulders slumped in defeat.
“Hopefully so, man,” I whisper before heading back to the bus depot.
Time to head to the hospital. Right now, I’m glad Dusty is spending the night at my sister’s house. We do that a lot during the season since practices run so late; that way he’s able to keep to a schedule. I’ve found with his ADHD that those are a must, otherwise, he devolves, and things get ugly fast. Other than that, he’s a good kid and I’m grateful he’s mostly easy going.
Once back at the school, I turn the bus keys into the bus barn, then head to my office to grab my duffel bag before driving up to the hospital. Morris, the school janitor, is carefully mopping the floor outside the locker room.
“Coach, heard about your boys so I’ve already cleaned and disinfected the locker room and showers, and have pulled all the towels from the shelves. The ladies got them running through the wash now. Can’t be too careful.”
I’m blown away by his initiative. Hell, I never even really thought about it being transmitted further, but it’s better to be safe than sorry in case it’s a stomach bug and not food poisoning.
“Morris, appreciate that a lot because it never crossed my mind.”
“Wouldn’t have mine either, Coach, then I remembered when this happened while I was in school. No one thought to sanitize, and we kept getting reinfected because boys will be boys and share every last thing, you know? Water bottles, snacks, so it kept transferring back and forth.”
“Need any help, Morris?” I question, ready to assist the older janitor with this thankless task.
“Naw, Coach, but I appreciate the offer. Just about finished, this was the last little bit, unless you want me to hit your office too.”
“It might not be a bad idea for the simple fact I think Jameson stopped by earlier. I don’t claim to understand how any of this stuff gets transmitted, you know what I mean?”
He chuckles while nodding his head. “Definitely. I know folks probably think I’m just a lowly janitor and don’t know shit, but if they knew I’ve been able to raise a family of five kids on my salary, they’d think again. Sometimes, the thankless jobs like this are the ones where money can be made. But with that being said, none of them have ever thought to ask me if I had a higher education or a degree, and I’m not one to share that information with others unless I’m asked.”
“I knew there was more to you than just a mop and broom,” I jest, pointing to two of his tools of trade.
“Was on track to go into medical school, Coach,” he confesses. “Fell in love with my Millie, we got hitched, then she started popping out our babies.”
“Surely, you were familiar with how that happens,” I state, grinning.
“Well, yeah, of course, but those babies needed food and residency is hard enough without having a family in tow, which is where I was at in the program, but after you add in a wife, two little ones, and all the bills they come with, left us financially spiraling, and suddenly, I had to find something else. I don’t regret it either,” he emphatically announces. “Best parts of me are now grown and living their best lives, while me and Millie reap the rewards with spoiling the grandbabies.”
“Why don’t you retire?” I question.
“And do what? Sit on my ass all day watching daytime television? No thanks, Coach. My granny always said you don’t start dying until you stop living. I never understood what she meant by that until my last baby got married, and it was just Millie and I again, rattling around in our big old empty house. Millie found a little part-time job down at the hospital in their gift shop, and I kept on working. We take vacations during the school breaks, visit our kids who’ve moved hours away, and we are both involved in several different charities in town. We’re still living, Coach, and I don’t see that changing for me until I draw my last breath.”
“I’m the same way. When I got injured and couldn’t play anymore, my manager couldn’t understand why I applied for the job here. He said I had enough money at my disposal that I could rest on my laurels for the rest of my life. Only, what would that teach my boy? Nothing I wanted him to know. I don’t mind being busy, and he’s learning to work for what he wants.”
“Seen your boy around, Coach. He’s a good kid.”
“He is and so are the boys on the team. Gonna let you get back to it, Morris, so I can head up to the hospital and see how they’re all doing. Thanks again for thinking of doing this.”
“Any time, Coach. You let them boys know me and my Millie will be praying for them, and if any of them need anything, they can get a message forwarded to me, and I’ll take care of it.”