Sunday. A day for football, especially in the Woods' household. In the new year it was all heating up with the playoffs, NFL and NCAA—Tommy and Dad's year was done with ASU, which meant they were home even more. High school should've been long over. But it wasn't.
More high school teams had played, and were yet to play, and the Titans weren't part of it, for the first time in a long time. The Christmas/New Year's break was different, everyone had stopped then. Now the Titans were missing out.
Jackson tried his utmost to keep football as far from his mind on Sunday, something that should've been antithetical to his identity. When he woke, he didn't check any results, or scroll through highlights from the previous day's games. He didn't even worry about the upcoming NFL games.
He just put his head down, and went through his morning stretches. It was important to wake the body up, and the best way to do that was get your blood flowing from fingers to toes and every nook in between.
He barely felt his ankle and wrist weights. He wore them near constantly. They were a part of every outfit, like a chain or rings; a part of him. Maybe he could look into getting a heavier set soon.
Jackson didn't look up when he heard Tommy's approach. He was bent over, touching his palms flat on the ground. Tommy said the goal was to get flexible enough to headbutt your knee like you were some kind of contortionist. He argued that while Jackson might look silly, Jackson'd thank him later after he got folded in half by a big hit and came out unscathed.
'You keeping your breathing steady?' Tommy asked.
Jackson sighed. 'I was.'
Tommy chuckled. 'You ready for today?'
Jackson straightened, meeting Tommy's eyes. The answer needn't be spoken—his eyes said enough. Sunday was the most important day for training. The supposed day of rest. Most would be after a long week, especially when there were so many games on to distract yourself with. So whilst everyone else took the day off, you had to grind even harder. That was how you outpaced and outlasted your competition.
Tommy smiled at the determination he saw. Jackson was a more-than-willing student. 'I'll be waiting outside.'
After short goodbyes to the rest of the family, Jackson met Tommy on the porch, finding him limbering up.
'Race ya to Kenny's,' Tommy said. 'Loser has to do the dishes for a week.' And with that he took off.
Jackson chased after him. 'That's so not fair!'
'It wasn't meant to be! Are you gonna lose just because something's unfair?'
Jackson sped past Tommy, eliciting a laugh from him. Tommy easily caught back up, and the two settled into a fast but stable pace as they raced down the quiet suburban streets. Seeing so few cars on the road, so few people roused from their houses, and instead enjoying a lazy day indoors, or a couple of extra hours of sleep, spurred the boys on further. It was proof they were lapping the competition. No one else was working as hard as them.
As their pace steadied more, Jackson looked across at his brother. Tommy had hardly broken a sweat, not yet breathing any different than normal. 'Are you gonna teach me juggling?'
Tommy met his gaze. 'Huh?' Despite his confusion his rhythm didn't falter.
'Juggling. I've seen you practice it. You do it one-handed.'
'Yeah, and?'
'When are you gonna teach me? It's for your hand-eye coordination, right?'
'True. And it's good catching practice. But why are you asking me?'
'Because you're the one doing it. Don't you have like a routine or something.'
Tommy shrugged. 'There isn't much to it. You just throw balls in the air and catch 'em. Try doing it like a circle from both hands first if you need, but there's not really any structure to it. Just do what you can.'
'Oh.' A touch of embarrassment coloured Jackson's cheeks, but that was soon pushed out of mind as Tommy sped up again and he had to surge back to his brother's side.
Their race ended anti-climatically—Tommy beat Jackson onto Kenny's driveway with a few seconds between them. Tommy stuck his tongue out at his little brother, reminding him of their bet.
Jackson groaned, annoyance cutting through his tiredness, giving him an all-too-late second wind. The two composed themselves and strode up to the door, Tommy ringing the bell.
Mr Murata answered shortly after, dressed comfortably, like he was one of those not intending on leaving the house on this blessed day of rest. He didn't look surprised to see them there, and the slight signs of annoyance he showed when first opening the door vanished when recognising the two boys on his doorstep.
'Ah, Thomas, good morning,' Mr Murata said. 'Good morning, Jackson. So good seeing you.'
Jackson bowed his head slightly.
'Good morning, Mr Murata,' Tommy replied. 'Is Ken ready?'
'I not sure, but I check.' He smiled and turned away from the door, walking a few steps further into the house and pausing in a doorway leading deeper. He called out to Kenny then, his voice surprisingly loud and powerful—reminding Jackson of a coach's voice—and the only word Jackson understood in his spiel was Kenny's name.
Kenny hurried into view, frowning as he hopped forward, his focused locked on his dad as he jammed his shoes on tight.
The two spoke rapidly at one another, keeping the conversation in Japanese. All the while Tommy and Jackson were left at the front door, silent, and feeling like increasingly unwelcome observers.
It was awkward standing there, hearing people talk right in front of you—so animatedly—but having no idea what they were saying. Was Mr Murata annoyed at them arriving so early on a Sunday morning? Maybe he should learn Japanese. It'd bring him closer to Kenny, right? It'd be like having their own secret language no-one else on the team, or opposition, knew.
Kenny moved past his dad and greeted the brothers, bumping fists with Jackson and sharing a grin with Tommy. ' 'Sup, guys?'
He stepped outside, pulling the brothers with him. Tommy turned back to Mr Murata and said: 'Enjoy your day, Mr Murata.' Then followed Kenny back out to the street.
They walked to the curb instead of running, Kenny stretching his arms and bouncing on his toes. Jackson watched him. 'I hope you stretched properly before we got here.'
'I did, I did. Relax, I'm not gonna pull a hamstring or some shit just from a weekend jog.'
'It's always important to stretch before ANY exercise,' Tommy said.
Jackson nodded in agreement, and looked up at him. 'You gonna tell us where we're going now?'
'I don't think I will,' Tommy said, smirking. 'You guys will just have to follow me.'
'Sheesh. I can already tell this is gonna be a looong day,' Kenny said.
Tommy laughed. 'Long but rewarding, the best kind of training session.' He started running, a much more comfortable jog than the race he'd challenged Jackson to earlier. The boys had no choice but to run after him, following him through the streets.
They weaved through streets, and cut across parks. Kenny turned towards Jackson. 'Did you watch the game last night?'
Jackson nearly stumbled but caught himself in time. 'Game?' He didn't need to ask, but hoped he was thinking of the wrong one. Even if he'd done his best to avoid football that weekend, he already knew what one game was, what it could've been if the Titans hadn't fallen short.
'Desert Christian already got knocked out.'
He did stumble that time, having to stop before he face-planted. Tommy pulled up, looking back with concern and a hint of curiosity. 'The team that beat you in the championship?' he asked.
'Bingo. I mean, not US but you get what I mean,' Kenny said. 'Tch. It was a total fucking joke. That big bad Samoan got stuffed by the tiniest Corner you've ever seen.' Kenny turned away and spat, letting loose the venom he held for that "tiny Corner". Jackson knew exactly who he was talking about.
HE had stopped Joseph Fale? But Shane couldn't even … the Titans failed, and the Dons didn't. Did Tyrese Samuels' shadow extend THAT far? Would it eclipse even the light of Shane? No, it was different. Shane was different. He was a brilliant Receiver but coverage wasn't his element defensively. It was a bad matchup against Fale. Tyrese would be hopeless against Shane … right?
'I'd crush that stupid little Corner,' Kenny muttered through gritted teeth.
Jackson chewed his lip, and Tommy watched both boys thoughtfully for a few moments more before speaking up.
'Alright, I think that's enough of a break. You guys can talk about what else happened in the tournament while we finish our run.'
He turned and resumed jogging; the boys followed. Neither said anything more about the Eagles, the Dons, the tournament as a whole, or—thankfully—Tyrese Samuels.
They ran at a faster pace, eventually coming to a quiet, innocuous building labelled The Clubhouse. It was the main building on the cosy little street it occupied, surrounded more by nature than anything else, and it was a familiar sight to Jackson.
'The Clubhouse? I thought it was closed on Sundays. Why are we here?'
'It is,' said Tommy, 'and I'll show you why we're here in a minute. Come on.' He walked towards the doors, producing a key.
Kenny followed, looking the beige brick building over. 'What is this?'
'It's like… I don't know. A daycare for teenagers?' Jackson said.
Tommy laughed. 'That's a good way of putting it.'
Kenny's frown only deepened. 'Okay that just gives me a lot more questions.'
'It's like an arcade,' Tommy said.
'But without the fun stuff,' Jackson added.
Tommy rolled his eyes, sticking the key in the door. 'And supervised by volunteers and … I don't know. A second home for some kids? Our Mom volunteers here sometimes.' He pushed the doors open and led the boys in.
It definitely wasn't like any arcade Kenny had been to or seen in old movies. For one there wasn't a single arcade cabinet in sight. It was much more … analog. The interior was more like a dentist's office, except this one had a few more couches, a pool table, and a ping-pong table, even air hockey. In one corner there was a big TV set up with a … game cube? And hanging from the ceiling was a projector.
The other side of the room was more comfortable looking. Filled with beanbags of various sizes, even one that looked big enough to be a kid's bed. There were tables there and plenty of board games or puzzles to play with. Tommy made a beeline for the stash of board games.
Kenny looked around. 'Your Mom works here?'
'Volunteers,' Jackson said. 'It's like, run by the neighbourhood committee or something. I think I had my birthday here when I was six.'
Kenny shrugged. 'It's different. Better than Chuck E Cheese, I guess.'
'Hey, get your butts over here,' Tommy called, beckoning them over; he was setting up a chessboard on a small table.
'We're playing chess?' Kenny asked as the boys approached. 'That's our training today?'
'On the surface, yes, that's what we'll be doing, but what we're really training is mental fortitude.'
Kenny didn't look convinced, and even Jackson was suspect on the validity of Tommy's idea. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. 'Uh, Tommy … is chess really gonna do that?'
'It's the conduit. There'll be other factors, too.'
'Like?' Kenny asked.
'Like, you're gonna have to hold a squat while its your move.' Still they didn't look impressed. Tommy's smile wavered slightly but he pressed on. 'AND you'll have to withstand a barrage of insults and trash-talk.'
Both boys looked at each other than back at Tommy. 'That's it?'
Tommy smile flipped completely. 'Well you'll be playing against me, and the loser has to switch out. And whoever's not playing has to do a plank until the game's over.'
Kenny sighed. 'Alright, let's get this over with. Who's going first?'
'Rock, Paper, Scissors?' Jackson suggested half-heartedly.
The two turned to each other, fists cupped on their other hand, but Tommy interrupted them. 'I'm being serious here. Your mental toughness is the most important aspect of not just in football but of life!'
Jackson squirmed, eyes lowering. Tommy continued. 'It doesn't matter how strong or fast you are. All of that crumbles if your mind isn't right. If your opponent's one-hundred percent locked in, and you're not, you'll lose every time. Everything's mental. Your body might be perfect, but if your mind isn't, it'll all fall apart. So you have to be ready, and in the right state so that your mind rules your body ALWAYS, no matter what's thrown at you.'
'We get it, big bro,' Jackson said. 'Thanks for looking out for us, and reminding us that there's more than just the physical side to football.'
Tommy smiled at Jackson, who smiled back. Kenny watched the exchange and mumbled an apology before thanking Tommy. 'It's a good idea, really creative, you know.'
'Heh, I knew you guys'd come around to it. Okay, first up, have a game against each other to set a baseline, and see who gets the HONOUR of challenging me.'
The boys still had a quick go of Rock, Paper, Scissors, just to see who would use the white pieces, which Kenny won throwing scissors to Jackson's paper.
They set up for the game, and Jackson went to make the opening move with his pawn. 'Hey, hey,' Tommy said, snapping his fingers, 'don't forget to squat when its your turn.'
Kenny suppressed a groan, squatting before moving the pawn. The game was then underway, and even without a timer forcing the boys' hands, the squatting rule pushed them into a blitz style game. Both boys made their moves faster to get out of their own squat and force their opponent back into one of their own, which heightened the pressure. Mistakes caused by this rapid pace only increased said pressure further. Though there wasn't any of Tommy's aforementioned trash-talk.
Eventually it was Kenny who prevailed, forcing Jackson into checkmate with a pincer from a rook and bishop. 'Finally,' Kenny said, standing and shaking off his legs.
Jackson's brow furrowed deeply as he stared at the board, replaying the last few moves in his head to figure out what he should've done.
'Good game,' Tommy said, giving them a round of applause. 'Jack, you know what the loser's gotta do. And Kenny, I hope you're warmed up. You'll find I'm a bit more experienced than my little bro.'
Jackson groaned as he dropped into a plank, and Tommy took his place with the black pieces. Kenny took a breath, but didn't complain about not getting a break, quickly moving his first pawn. Without missing a beat Tommy moved one of his pawn's to attack Kenny's and open up the middle of the board.
Kenny frowned, staring across at Tommy. There was a dangerous glint in his eye, something mischievous and a little … remorseful? It was strange on his face, but that only added to the uneasiness it caused.
A shudder ran along Kenny's spine. Just what was Tommy planning?