In the early spring of 1983, Craig MacIntyre was discovering
amazing new sensations down in his trousers.
.
Well, maybe not completely new…
.
Although “Jack Mac” had messed his pants while dancing at
the Watergate Hotel in Washington D.C., “Jack” earned his nickname two and a
half years earlier in the spring of 1980.
.
When we were just 11 and 12, Bryan, Billy, Alex, and I were
a semi-regular group of four, riding our bikes back and forth through the
streets of Reynoldsburg and playing some sort of pick-up game in someone’s
backyard, whether it was Wiffle Ball, soccer, or football. Today, it would be
soccer.
.
Billy had tucked a soccer ball into his backpack and he led
the way to Craig MacIntyre’s house. Craig had this huge backyard parked atop a
hill with a long stretch of field running east-to-west.
.
Mr. MacIntyre was some sort of architect and he had built
goal posts at both ends of the yard and mowed it n a crisscross pattern at
least twice a week from early Spring to late fall so we could play Soccer at
the safety of the MacIntyre house. Craig’s house was always our favorite place
to hang out and play.
.
We rode up the narrow bike path that led through a small
grove of trees and up to the driveway beside Big Mac’s house. We dumped our
bikes in a messy pile next to the basketball pole at the back of the drive and
ran towards the house.
.
His room was in the basement and you could see directly into
his bedroom from the window that strangled the ground. Billy was the first to
hit the window and look inside.
.
“Holy fuck!” he shouted.
.
All of us ran up to the house and cupped our hands over the
window to shield the sunlight as we peered into the basement window.
.
“Holy fuck!” I repeated.
.
Craig was stretched out on the big red beanbag chair that
sat in front of the television, completely naked. The TV was tuned to the “Key
Club” channel. Craig seemed to be enjoying what he was watching although the
Porn channel ad been scrambled by the cable company and the picture was out of
focus.
.
When Billy arrived at the window, Craig jumped to his feet
and quickly jerked up his pants. By the time the rest of us arrived, it was all
about Craig trying to dress himself as fast as possible. As soon as he was in
jeans and a t-shirt, he reached up and yanked the bedroom curtains shut.
.
“Can you believe it?” laughed Billy.
.
“What was it?” said Alex.
.
“He was stretched out on the beanbag chair jerking off.”
.
“You gotta be kidding…he knew we were coming over, right?. I
mean, I just talked to him a half hour ago.”
.
“Sometimes, nature calls,” said Bryan.
.
Yeah, but I think you should have the brains to close the
curtain first.”
.
After a few minutes of waiting, we went over to the soccer
field. Since there were only three of us, we stood in a triangle and kicked the
ball back and forth. We waited quite a while for Craig, so Billy finally
decided we should see if he returned to watching TV or what.
.
“Come on, let’s find out what’s taking him so damn long.”
.
Billy marched up to the side door and knocked loudly. Mrs.
MacIntyre rushed out from the kitchen.
.
“Yes, boys?”
.
“We were wondering what’s taking Jack so long…”
.
“What? Who?”
.
Bryan and I hid behind Billy to hide our snickering.
.
“Oh, Jack – you know – your son. It’s a nickname we use for
him.”
.
“It is?”
.
Billy nodded as we continued to fight off the uncontrollable
laughter.
.
“Oh, alright. Come on in and I’ll see if he’s awake.”
.
“I’m sure he’s up,” said Billy.
.
“Oh Creggy!” Mrs. MacIntyre called downstairs, “your friends
are here and they want to play.”
.
“Yeah,” called Billy, “I’ve got a big ball right here in my
hand.”
.
Craig ran to the top of the steps where Billy and Mrs.
MacIntyre stood. As Craig cut between Billy and Mrs. McIntyre, his mother
scruffed his hair and gave him a peck on the cheek.
.
“Alright boys, if you want something to eat, I’ll be happy
to make some Macaroni and Cheese and heat up some beans and weenie, too.”
.
Bryan and I quickly darted out the door. As we hopped off
the porch, Billy and Craig came outside just behind us. Billy immediately
erupted into laughter as Craig just steamed past him towards the field.
.
“”What?” I said.
.
“Oh, you missed the best part. As we were leaving, Mrs.
MacIntyre said, “Now Creggy, go have fun with your friends…or should I say
‘Jack’?”
.
“Oh, that’s priceless, Jack.”
.
“Don’t you ever say that to my face.”
.
“Oh, come on Jack.”
.
“Let’s just play soccer. Bryan and I will take on you two
assholes.”
.
The game was hard fought as Craig contested every ball with
a hard sliding tackle or a body check. In fact, by the end of the morning, we’d
all taken at least one swift kick to the shins, even Bryan, his teammate.
.
Mrs. MacIntyre, however, saved the day as she called us in
for an early lunch. We ate and made some small talk, but for the most part, the
meal was quiet. As soon as everyone finished, Craig invited us to leave so he
could get a jump on is book report.
.
“But it’s only Saturday, honey.”
.
“I don’t care. I need to get this finished now.”
.
“Alright, alright,” agreed Mrs. MacIntyre, “If you insist.”
.
“I do.”
.
Craig led us to the door and showed us the way out.
.
“Hey,” said Billy, “we had a good time, Jack. We have to do
this again sometimes soon.”
.
“Shut it,” snapped Craig.
.
“Well, not all of it.”
.
Then, Craig followed us to the pile of BMX bikes and spoke
his mind.
.
“Alright,” he said, “I’m done with this crap. You guys go
home and I never want to see any of you again.”
.
And we didn’t.
.
Sure, we shared classrooms with him all through Middle
School and Junior High, but the die had been struck. Jack Mac – or rather,
Craig MacIntyre, was pretty much out of all our lives for good.
.
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