Victory is earned in the offseason

[Jackson DeWitt]

He'd opted not to use the Academy fitness facilities. Somehow, even on his own time, working there didn't seem right...or at least, not yet. It would be alright when he became a Jedi, but for now, he'd have to make do like anybody else on Coruscant might. Finishing up his rounds at the Academy, he'd changed from his custodians coveralls into loose-fitting grey sweatpants and a sweatshirt to match. The shirt read JEDI ACADEMY in big, black screenpress lettering. He wasn't in the academy yet, but Jackson could at least allow himself that much leeway. It was a reminder of what to work for. Stepping out into the street, he began to head toward where a local Rodian had mentioned a run-down smashball arena. It was half a dozen districts away, and he was forced to take the taxi. The cabbie looked at him in a strange manner when he'd asked him to take him to the old arena, but complied nonetheless. It was in the Deni district, and quite a few levels down, tucked into the superstructure of a large conglomerate skyscraper. The cab set down, and Jackson thanked the man for his trouble, paying and tipping as he ran out the passenger door, across the empty sidewalk, and through the abandoned concourse.

The stadium was closed to the public, but it wasn't like there was anything else for it to do but get old and run down. Jackson paused at the fence, and then climbed over it, entering the arena. He'd never played smashball before in his life...and barely even heard of it, yet as he entered the lower levels of the arena, he instantly felt there was a hallowed connection between his struggle now, and the similar struggle that others had likely made in this same place. Straight ahead, the tunnel led upwards to the field and the open expanse of the arena. Jackson paused, noting a door off to the side. Testing the handle, he found it unlocked. He had no idea why he was going in, only that it seemed like something he should do. After all, he was already in the stadium, what more harm could be done?

He'd stepped into a workout room, still inhabited by old, well-used freeweights...the kind of rough-looking durasteel that in the times of force feedback and synthetic workouts seemed a bit archaic and primitive. It suited Jackson just fine though. Then, he looked above the door that he had just entered. There was an old, beaten metal sign, mounted over the door frame. Its edges were showing the trace beginnings of rust, and it was obvious that the sign had been there for years. It was comprised of big, block letters, and no-doubt it served as a visual inspiration to the athletes that worked here before. Jackson bit at his lower lip, looking down at his feet. His dad had told him that stealing was wrong, and that no matter how bad off you were, you were better off than being a simple thief. Yet, it was abandoned, and in the pit of Jackson's stomach, he felt inexorably guided to take the sign down from its perch. Using a bench for a height boost, Jackson climbed up, hoisting the sign down. Sitting it on the bench, he blew away some dust that had collected on its surface, and took a moment to look at what it said.


<center>
<font size=3>The more you sweat in here, boys...
...the less you bleed out there.
Victory is earned in the offseason.</font>
<pre><font size=10> <font color=FF0000>GO!
FIGHT!
WIN! </font></font></pre></center>

[George Hallstead]

"I remember when that sign was put up there," a voice came from behind Jackson.

There stood an old man, his glasses fogged by the cold of the air as he walked in the weight room. His overcoat was grey and his tweed suit below was from another time. But here he was alive and well.

He carried an old smashball in his hand, and a cigar in his mouth.

"You looking for anything son?"

[Jackson DeWitt]

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know anyone was here. If I'm intruding, I'll leave."

Jackson felt his face flush. He could've sworn he'd heard the Rodian say the smashball arena was abandoned. Apparently, he was mistaken.

"I was just...kinda looking for a place to work out, and I don't know the city too well. Somebody said this place was empty, and I didn't wanna impose on anybody anywhere, just get some time alone, to work."

He was still holding onto the sign, and he looked down at it, finally looking up after a few seconds.

"Its a good message. Very inspiring, sir."

[George Hallstead]

Hallstead smiled through his cigar, "Yeah...Coach Bryant when he put it up there...he meant what he said. He used to coach here ya know."

He saw the confused expression on the kid's face.

"You've never played smashball before?" the man had a bemused expression on his face at Jackson's reaction.

Then he took his hand out of his pocket and offered it to the hopeful Jedi.

"I'm George Hallstead."

[Jackson DeWitt]

"Nosir...I don't reckon I have. We don't get much sport out on Tattooine. I saw a game once, though."

He smiled, thankful that the older man hadn't berated him for his tresspassing. He reached out, grasping the man's thick, calloused hand.

"Jackson DeWitt. Pleasure to meet you, sir."

His eyes drifted down again to the sign.

"I guess I was figuring I could use some inspiration. Seems I'm hitting some rough times of late."

[George Hallstead]

"Whenever I get onto hard times, normally I come here to think. It helps to clear my mind," he had a wistful look in his eyes.

"I see you have the Jedi Academy sweatshirt on," Hallstead said as he placed his hand back in his pocket.

"You attending taking classes there?"

[Jackson DeWitt]

With a smile, Jackson's right hand instinctively reached up, touching the lettering.

"Well, I've applied, sir. I haven't been accepted yet...but I will be! They just need a little more outta me, I guess."

The smile faded a little bit.

"I suppose thats why I came out here. I need to find myself, and I can't ask a Jedi to find that for me. I thought I had all the answers I needed, and I found out that I hadn't stepped up all the way to the challenge. You see sir...nobody thinks I can make it, but I know I will. I just gotta convince them that they are wrong, and thats taking time."

[George Hallstead]

"Sounds like you've got some plans, son," Hallstead smiled as he began walking out of the room, beckoning Jackson to follow him.

"Come on, I'll show you around. Care to come out on the field? The security guards who come around here know me fairly well, so we won't get any trouble from them.

"Plus I haven't thrown the ball in a while."

The two walked from the weight room just outside the entrance to the field.

"I remember one day, Jackson, it was colder than this. Back during the time when this stadium was used for real. It was packed...but your breath was freezing right in front of you.

"And I remember Coach Bryant walked up to me and he said, 'You throw that ball to where it's supposed to go. You got heart and determination...stick with it.' And we won the game."

He tossed the ball to Jackson.

"You got heart kid...stick to your goals. Now throw me the ball."

[Jackson DeWitt]

"Seems like sometimes, thats about all I got to my credit, Coach."

Getting a few seconds to get a feel for the ball, and how to throw it, Jackson cocked his arm back and released into an arching, loose spiral.

[George Hallstead]

Hallstead caught the wobbly pass.

"Heart isn't a bad thing. You got determination. Now you just need discipline."

He returned a tight spiral to Jackson.

"You said you got yourself a room, and a job?"

[Jackson DeWitt]

"Yessir. It ain't much as far as pay, but its all I need, and its at the Academy, so I'm at least around there at all times."

He went to catch, but lost his hold, and the ball bounced away. Frowning, he ran after it, recovering it, and drawing up to throw again.

[George Hallstead]

"Don't feel bad about dropping the ball, son," Hallstead replied as he caught another wobbly spiral.

"This is the first time ya ever played with one of these. I don't blame you for having a bit of trouble."

He paused before his next throw, as if he was thinking.

"I could see if I could use an extra hand during some of the practices over at Corsair Stadium. I wouldn't need you for more than a few hours every week or so, but you'd get to go to a game too."

He sent a high arching pass, a bit easier for Jackson to get to.

"Interested?"

[Jackson DeWitt]

Jackson backpedalled, snagging the ball out of the air by his fingertips.

"A job, sir? I'm flattered and all, but I don't know smashball from a hole in the ground, if you catch my meaning. Actually, I'd come around here for a bit of space to run and work out. I figure it beats twiddling my thumbs, and sure can't hurt my chances at the Academy."

[George Hallstead]

Hallstead nodded. He had a feeling the kid would decline. And not a bad kid either. He had determination and that was something Hallstead always looked first in his players.

And he had the will to win. Something else Hallstead liked.

"Hey Coach, you in here?" a familiar voice, atleast to Hallstead, said as a figure stood at the gate.

"Yeah Bart come on in."

The grass crunched as the medium height man ran through the field towards his coach. Midway through, he indicated to the shorter kid to toss the ball to him.

Which was done with another wobbly pass.

"Whose the kid?" Bart asked as he made it to Hallstead, "Bit small for a wing."

Hallstead snorted, "Bart Starr meet Jackson DeWitt."

Bart smiled then threw a tight, hard spiral at Jackson.

"Nice t'meet ya kid."

[Jackson DeWitt]

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Starr"

Jackson ran up to the man, shaking his hand.

[George Hallstead]

Starr smiled as the ball passed over Jackson's head and landed near Hallstead.

"Come on kid pay attention," he waited for his coach to throw the ball. As he did, he shook Jackson's hand too.

"Jedi Academy eh?" Starr said as the ball was returned to him.

"Tell ya what kid. Run about 20 steps, turn and I'll have the ball for ya. Gets your blood running."

He slapped the ball in his hand.

"GO!"

Starr waited about 10 seconds, then fired the ball to the running Jedi wanna be.

[Jackson DeWitt]

Jackson turned and ran, pumping strides in fast, rhythmic motion. He turned and dove, having run too far off the pattern. The ball danced on his fingertips as he stretched out, and for the shortest of moments, he held on. But the impact of the ground sent the ball loose, and sent Jackson skidding across the turf. Undaunted, he rose to his feet, pursuing the bouncing ball, with new grass stains on his workout clothes.

[George Hallstead]

Starr gave a smile, "I like this kid."

"COME ONE JACKSON!" Hallstead yelled, "Get the ball back to Bart. He'll throw it to ya again!"

Starr took the ball from the Jedi Wanna Be and took five steps back.

"Again...15 steps, then cut across the field.

"GO!"

He waited, then scrambled a bit, imitating a game situation...then fired another tight spiral right at Jackon's head.

[Jackson DeWitt]

Jackson reached up to catch it, but the ball had too much heat on it. It slipped through his fingers, thudding on his chest, which sent it spinning into the air. Losing his feet, Jackson leaned back, and reached up, cradling the ball by his fingertips as he hit the ground.

[George Hallstead]

Starr turned to Hallstead, "Didn't Bryant make a catch like that last year?"

Hallstead nodded, "Yeah, won us the championship too."

The player continued with his coach, "A bit too small though isn't he?"

"Could be a running back though, maybe....Hey Jackson! Run as fast as ya can over here!"

The coach pulled out a stopwatch, "And carry the ball too!"

He turned to Starr, "Go tackle him too. Pretend he's running back an interception."

[Jackson DeWitt]

Jackson held the ball with both arms, pressed against his centerline as he ran, pumping his legs out in long strides. He ran as hard as he could toward Hallstead, and only at the last moment saw Starr, as he came in quick and strong on a tackle. DeWitt's feet left him, and he immediately went horizontal, slamming to the ground. The world faded to black and red blinking stars as he smashed to the turf with a thud. Yet somehow, he still held the ball.

[George Hallstead]

Two minutes later, Jackson was rolled over and staring up at the dark sky.

Hallstead was bent over him, holding a bottle of water next to the Jedi wanna be's head.

"This is why we wear protective gear. You all right kid?"