I can do it

All the other seventh graders sat on the sidelines relaxing. They’d done it. But Mr. Groh, he wouldn’t let us go to the lockers to shower until I’d done it, too. Even twerpy Tommy Terwilliger had done one of them, but I couldn’t get it up enough to satisfy the coach. What my thirteen-year old libido wouldn’t do to satisfy the coach. He had the moustached look of a squat Mark Spitz and wore the short shorts to prove it. I’ll never forget the day he showed us how to stretch our legs. One leg in front, the other behind, I got a peek at a pink ball and some dark hair. Thirty-four years later I can still feel the excitement.

The boys were getting restless. “Hey Woody,” Nick Castelucci called out, “you can’t get it up! You wimpy little weasel!” Everyone, even twerpy Tommy, laughed. Damn those burn-outs, I thought. I’ll show them. I don’t know how but one day, I’ll show them who’s who.

Mr. Groh blew his whistle at the rowdy boys. One more try. I wanted to think about Beth – or Dana – or any of the other girls I liked. They were so cute and sweet, just like angels I wanted to worship. Beth wore her hair like Mary Tyler Moore did in Season 7. Dan wore her hair like Farrah Fawcett. But that didn’t do it for me, so I thought about Mr. Groh’s crotch. I grabbed the bar with my hands and I pulled up – no, I wasn’t going to make it – yes, I am going to make it – no I’m not going to make it – and then yes, I touched my chin on the bar.