The Power of a Name

I lived part of my young life in one of the colder states in Northern America, and in the wintertime, the lakes would freeze, and we would play pond hockey and Ice Bowl- American Football on ice. There was a pond that we usually played on, and as we all met up and began to pick teams, this one kid from the trailer parks came in on a minibike (small motorcycle) and began doing donuts on the ice. An adult happened by and ran him off. By then, our teams were picked, and we began to play.

Football on ice ends up being hilarious because when the snow is fresh, you can get traction enough to sort of run, but you look like a moron when you do because you’re trying not to fall. But as the game goes on, the ice gets slicker, and eventually, all rules end up going out the window because you can only slide and forward lateral to a teammate who was able to slide past you. Occasionally, someone could get traction enough to get a decent run, catch a pass, and slide all the way into the end zone. But at a certain point, it really does start to resemble hockey. I’m not sure which came first, but if hockey was developed this way, it wouldn’t surprise me.

So, we are playing, and no one keeps score… we just play to be playing. There was a Puerto Rican kid named Marine Gonzales who had an older sister who was the heartthrob of every kid out there. He also had a little brother who was too young to get out there and roughhouse yet. So, Marine got some really good traction and slid, and his QB threw a good pass, and he caught it and slid into the end zone. I’m not sure if it was because the kid was riding his motorbike on the ice in that area… but I just remember looking up, and he was gone without a trace. Everyone went over, and you could see him thrashing under the ice.

Of course, we all ran to the street and began flagging down adults. Someone ran to the pay phones and called an ambulance, and like six other men ran to the pond, and this one larger, fat man jumped up and shattered the ice when he landed. Man, it looked painful because one leg went in first, and then the rest of the ice broke, after which his other leg went in, and he pulled the kid out. The thing is, it wasn’t even really deep right there; the guy was about chest level. The ambulance came, and the men already had him on the ground doing CPR. They got to the hospital, and he was in a coma. The doctors said he might live because the water temperature was so low that it slowed his body functions, but he died that same night. I remember his sister started doing drugs after that, became a total skoozy, and later in life became a topless dancer in one of the nearby strip clubs.

Anyway, the school mourned his death and got some hot female counselor to come and counsel a bunch of adolescent white-trash boys all at the same time… not a bright idea. The session was nothing but sexual innuendos and dick jokes. I mean, he was our friend, and we knew he would have appreciated it. Now, for the most peculiar part of the story… his name was Marine… and he drowned. The counselor asked to havde one on one sessions with each of us who were there, so there is me…all cocky to this 20 something year old rookie who just wanted to help. She asked if I remembered the details, and to this day I honestly do…his black eyes wide open and his cheeks puffed out as he held his final breath, and softly banged his palms against the ice in a futile attempt to break through that line that was slowly sucking him into the void. But there is me…this abused, cocky white trash kid of two immigrants- out to show the world how tough I am. The problem was that she was “pretty” and boys at that age are just hormonal jerks with only a handfull of things on their mind…with the majority of them being on the female body. I remember she started to cry when I gave her my response to me helplessly watching one of my besties drown. She asked if I said anything to him before he “went” and I said no, but he did say something to me. She touched me on the arm and asked what he tried to say and I said “The last thing he said before he died was ‘Blubblrublurbblrbrb….'” Yea…that went over about as you can imagine it did. I got sent home for the day, as well as a few other kids, and someone ended up sneaking into their home and filching a bottle of booze and we all got drunk and puked our guts out. I just remember someone kept saying “we owe it to him”. Don’t know WTF he was referencing to be honest. Jokes aside- so this day I still have a few dreams a year that jump me awake- seeing him bang on the ice like that. How his eyes didn’t close when he went face down and his back floated up to the ice. I guess there’s just some bags you never can unpack.