“So, Jake…” the blond captain of the Soccer team said to the prospective recruit with a not-fully-concealed sneer on his handsome face and an even less-well-concealed tone of sarcasm in his voice; “you think you have what it takes to join the Mighty Bucks?”
“You bet I do,” Jake replied with casual self-confidence; if he noticed the other boy’s rather offensive manner, he didn’t show it. “I’m the best goalie you’ll ever meet in this town who isn’t already out of high school!”
Charlie, the 17-year-old team captain, looked at the new boy up and down with a touch of disdain that he didn’t quite feel. Though only fifteen, Jake was taller than any of the other six boys present – even though these were all juniors and seniors rather than a lowly sophomore. But though he was obviously a superb athlete from what the others could see of him, his cherubic face and slender build made him look years younger than he actually was – like an overgrown twelve-year-old. This made it easier to take him less seriously than another, older-looking boy would have been. The fact that his voice sounded like that of a prepubescent added to the perception the other boys had that Jake was more suited to a children’s choir than he was to a soccer team. And those thick glasses he wore screamed “NERD!” to anyone else who looked at him.
Charlie looked at his other five team-mates; they’d just been beginning a practice game when Jake had rode up on his bicycle and asked to join the school soccer team. No one else was present on the field, which itself was isolated from view from anywhere else except for the adjacent school building – and as it was now late Friday afternoon there was no one there either. “What do you think guys?” he asked the others.
Frank - Charlie’s closest friend - was also 17, several inches shorter than Charlie’s 5’ 10” (175 cm) height, but thanks to his stockier build weighed about the same at 150 pounds (68 kg).
“Let’s give him a try, Charlie,” Frank said with a look and tone even more disdainful than the team captain’s had been; “we could use a few laughs.”
The other four boys, all of them juniors, went along with their two older team-mates with simple nods or monosyllabic grunts of agreement.
Charlie spread his team out so that they could work together to try scoring goals off this young newcomer while Jake positioned himself to guard the net. Charlie and the others still wore their soccer uniforms, but Jake was wearing similarly light clothing – an old, faded tank-top, a set of gym shorts that ran only halfway down to his knees, a pair of white socks, and a pair of new Nike sneakers. Charlie and his friends were fresh (having all arrived here in Charlie’s car) while Jake was slightly tired from having come here by bicycle, so they expected this try-out to be short, fun, and thoroughly embarrassing for this sophomore soccer wannabe.
But fifteen minutes later and twelve successful saves by Jake later, Charlie and his friends had not scored a single goal, and their smug smiles were all wiped off their faces. They called time out and asked Jake to wait by the goal net while the six of them had a private huddle to discuss the situation.
“Cripes, that kid is good!” exclaimed Chip, the red-headed, freckle-faced junior.
“But can he score as well as play keeper?” asked Greg, the slender African-American boy who wore an old-fashioned Afro.
“Yeah,” seconded Nick, the short, stocky black boy who shaved off his hair altogether; “for all we know he kicks like a little girl!”
“One way to find out,” suggested Phuong, the Asian kid; “Have him try to score some goals off each of us!”
Charlie agreed with that suggestion and called to Jake. “We’re each going to be the goalie while to try to score a goal past us,” Charlie told him. “Get all six, and then pass the initiation, and then you’re in!”
“What initiation?” Chip (who was standing just behind and to the right of Charlie) began to ask, but a solid thump in his midriff from Charlie’s elbow turned this into a rather loud “W-OOF!” as if he were trying to bark like a dog. Rubbing his suddenly sore stomach and looking at his team captain, he caught a glare that instantly warned him not to try to pursue the matter.
Phuong, considered the best keeper of the soccer team after Charlie himself, took position in front of the net while Jake prepared to kick the ball. Jake launched his kick, and the ball sailed well past Phuong almost before the boy realized the ball was even in motion.
Six boys said the same three word expression almost in unison; “What the f***?!?”
Disgruntled, Charlie took position as goalie; determined that this mere sophomore wasn’t going to score a goal past HIM!
This time, he uttered the same expression as before – only louder and more angrily. That soccer ball flew past him as if launched out of a damned cannon!
Charlie’s remaining four team-mates took their own turns, but Charlie was already certain of the conclusion and began to plan the unsuspecting Jake’s ‘initiation’ into the club!
By the time the last boy took his turn as goalie, Charlie’s plans were fully formed and he quickly and quietly gave his remaining team-mates the gist of it. Just as annoyed with this young upstart as Charlie was, the other four immediately agreed to help Charlie carry his plan out.
“That was a good game,” Charlie said cheerfully to Jake with as straight a face as he could manage. “Say, could you help us take the soccer net down? It has a few broken spots in it that need to be repaired!” This last part was true enough, and Charlie even pointed out a couple of places where the fabric had indeed been frayed.
“Sure!” Jake replied agreeably. “What do you want me to do?”
“Just stand right over there and catch the net when it falls,” Charlie asked him, pointing to a spot inside the center of the goal area, right in front of the net itself, as he and his team-mates quickly detached the net from the goal posts.
Jake complied with the request before it occurred to him to wonder about Charlie’s rather odd request. “But how will that help?” he began to ask as he turned back around to face Charlie. But all that came of his mouth was a startled “Bu-awk!” - making him sound very much like a startled chicken that had just had one of its tail-feathers pulled.
The net itself wasn’t very heavy and didn’t drop far enough to do more than startle Jake; he simply stood there in puzzlement and began trying the pull the net off of himself. But before he could get well-started, the other six boys surrounded him and began to wind the entire net around him to entangle him even further. Charlie swept Jake’s out from under him while Chip and Phuong caught him and lowered him gently to a prone position on the ground. The remaining boys eagerly entangled their victim like so many spiders pouncing on a helpless fly.
“HEY!” Jake yelled - this time in outrage rather than surprise – as he began to fight back. His arms were already hopelessly enmeshed and pinned down into almost total immobility by one of his assailants. There was no one holding down his legs however, and he now demonstrated the same power kicking against the other boys as he had kicking the soccer ball unerringly to its goal. One boy went reeling backward to fall on his rump, while another received a kick to his shin that sent him hopping around on his other leg yelling lurid profanities. A third boy just narrowly managed to dodge a heel to the groin that would have taken him out of the fight altogether had it landed. The others all received several bruises apiece to various portions of their anatomy before their reluctant victim was finally rendered almost completely immobile by the soccer-net-turned-makeshift-cocoon combined with three of the boys straddling him.
“That won’t hold him for long,” Charlie decided. He turned to one of the two boys who were still on their feet rather than pinning down their netted prey. “Greg, go to the locker room and get that big coil of rope they use to fence off areas.” As captain of the soccer team, Charlie had the keys needed to get into the school and into the locker room, and handed them over to his team-mate. With a quick nod, Greg ran as fast as he could go to carry out Charlie’s order.
By the time Greg returned with the half-inch thick, red-colored coils of rope (five coils, each about forty feet long), Jake’s struggles against his captors had become considerably weaker but had by no means ceased altogether. Five of the boys took a coil apiece and proceeded to wrap it tightly around part of Jake’s anatomy as tightly as possible while the remaining boy kept turning Jake over and over to help with the binding process. By the time they were finished, Jake’s legs were as immobile as if they were welded together, while his arms were thoroughly trapped against his sides. The most Jake could do now was wriggle feebly like a slug, glare at them angrily, and swear loudly but ineffectually against his captors.
A roll of duct tape that Greg had also thoughtfully fetched and generously applied over Jake's lower face (along with over the net adjacent to it and another donated T-shirt tied tightly around Jake's lower face over that) soon took care of the cursing, and a blindfold made from one of their shirts served equally well to deal with Jake’s reproachful glares. Jake could still thrash feebly around, but as this only aroused scornful laughter from the other boys these soon ended as well.
“Okay, fellows,” Charlie said to his team-mates cheerfully. ‘Let’s make our new team-mate feel right at home.”
All six boys got a solid grip on their captive (the net providing plenty of handholds), lifted him up, and carried him like a large sack of grain to the locker room.
TBC