November 17, 1979
Headlines: Torrance Youth Critically Injured
Lloyd was a close friend of mine, the kind of guy who everyone admired. It seemed he had everything going for him, loving parents (being the only child helped), a beautiful girlfriend, and all his peers really liked him. He had his problems, but they seemed the usual teenage type, like most kids in our high school.
The South Torrance soccer team had been in a slump that season, and Lloyd being the top player, was blaming himself for this downfall. Being a Varsity player as a sophomore wasn’t exactly easy.
Coach Johnson told Lloyd about the Aztec scout coming t our next game. Coach said it was mainly to watch how Lloyd played. The pressure that week in practice was overwhelming. Every team member was being pushed to their physical limits.
I was a junior on the team and had worked hard to become first string.
During the bus ride to West High, our fiercest rivals, Lloyd and I sat together.
“Aren’t you nervous, Lloyd?”
“Yea, kind of, I just want to do my best.”
“I can see why. What if you fell and twisted your ankle, or did something bad enough to keep you out of the game?”
“Gordon”, Lloyd said to me seriously, “I’ve been thinking of just that. If I ever did get hurt quite badly, more than a broken ankle I mean, and had to be kept alive by machines, I wouldn’t want to live.”
“Who would, Lloyd?”
Lloyd turned to me and with a stern look in his eyes he pleaded, “If I ever get like that, promise me you won’ let me live!”
I was taken aback by this statement, but his eyes held mine for an answer, “Sure, of course, but you’ll never…”
“Thanks, I knew I could trust you”, he cut me off.
The game started off exceptionally well, the score starting in our favor. West had a fast team though, and we were soon tied at the half.
In the locker room, Lloyd was really upset. He felt he hadn’t given it his all and could have blocked that tying goal.
West High had made one goal during the second half, but that was all they needed. It was Lloyd who missed the pass to him which could have meant another goal, but he hadn’t seen it coming in time to make the goal.
The bus ride home was a silent one. Both Lloyd and I knew Lloyd’s father’s temper all too well and nothing had to be said that Lloyd would get a lecture on this matter. You see, Mr. Grey was a perfectionist, which meant his son had to do everything right also. Even Lloyd’s grades had to be straight A’s, which they normally were, or it would mean restriction.
Days passed and Lloyd looked taut as a pulled rubber band. Lloyd thought word of his performance would come from the Aztec scout sooner than it did. Then, what finally came wasn’t in his favor. The letter stated that Lloyd would need a few more years of experience, which seemed logical for a sophomore, and to keep working.
Mr. Grey was expecting great things, and Lloyd didn’t want to be the one to tell him. Besides, he had a date with Deena that night and it could wait.
Lloyd asked if I wanted to double that night, but I had more homework than I could handle.
The next day at school, he wrote me a note in Algebra. It said how he had gotten home late and his father was angry. Mr. Grey had talked to Coach Johnson earlier in the evening and found out about the letter. He wasn’t as mad about the contents as he was about his son not telling him. But Lloyd didn’t realize this.
I thought Mr. Grey was being irrational when he restricted Lloyd from the use of the car, phone, and from going out with Deena for an indefinite period of time. I couldn’t see the point in that punishment. It all seemed too blown out of proportion to actually be real, but real it was.
Saturday afternoon, Lloyd, a few other guys, and I decided to play a game of soccer up at the elementary. So after a quick lunch at Pup-N-Taco, we headed on our way.
In interest of time, we decided to take a short cut, since we all were going to the Sadie Hawkins dance that evening, except for Lloyd who was still on restriction. We had to make it a fast game. I wondered if Lloyd’s father would ever let up on him. The short cut we had chosen would take us across Pacific Coast Highway, and we were al too cool to use the cross walk only a few yards down the highway.
So when there was a break in the traffic, the group of us dashed across. Suddenly there were brakes squealing, and I wheeled around on my heels just in time to see Lloyd throw his arms up and scream that unmentionable word.
Shattered glass, blood, and Lloyd’s limp body was all I could focus on mingled together in a heap on the pavement. The other guys ran back to him, but my feet were cemented in place. My only thought was on that word, Banzai…Banzai…Banzai. I could feel those wet salty tears that were so foreign to me stream down my face.
I was still standing there when a cold hard voice broke through my senses.
“Did you see this happen?”
I could only not at the tall, uncaring stranger in the blue uniform. It probably wasn’t fair to think of this man as uncaring, but that’s how it felt. Whatever else I said to him was blurred, but one things for sure, I didn’t breath a word about what had been Lloyd’s last utterance.
I don’t remember how I got home, but my parents were at the door waiting for me. They spoke in meaningless babble and I didn’t want to hear. I walked straight to my bedroom and collapsed on my bed into a restless sleep.
Mom came upstairs to my room and awakened me. She seemed to be in a frantic mood. All I could make out of her words was something about Valerie. Oh my gosh! Valerie must be downstairs waiting for me. It was Sadie Hawkins and I had almost slept through it.
Quickly pulling on my jeans and the flannel shirt I had received a few days prior, I hurried down to greet the waiting Val.
The evening didn’t go well to say the least. All of Lloyd’s friends were grouped together in a huddle. I couldn’t handle all the questions being thrown at me, so I asked Val to take me home. I’m glad she was so understanding.
When I got home, my parents were waiting up for me. They told me of al the details about Lloyd’s condition. He was in a coma and the doctor’s couldn’t find any trace of brainwaves left in him. Lloyd was alive, but his brain was dead.