(Scene: High school football field at night. The camera circles around the football field, spending extra time on each pole of the two uprights. Slowly it pans down to reveal Ritchie Jernsen and Tom Newsome alone and passing the football. Ritchie is sparkling with manly sweat. He works hard and he plays hard. Tom Newsome is overweight and predictably jolly.)
Tom: So. State champions, huh?
Ritchie: Yeah, I guess so. I don’t feel any different.
Tom: But you are different, Ritchie. You’re different than all of us. You’ve got this amazing gift and you’re going to go pro. The whole town knows. And woah-boy! when you do, the world had better watch out. Seriously, the NFL will never be the same.
Ritchie: But I have a secret that nobody can know, Tom.
Tom: Well, whatever it is, nobody in town will care. You’re a god damn saint in this town.
Ritchie: Yes they will care, Tom. They will and I’m SO DAMN SCARED that they’re going to find out.
(Zoom in on Ritchie’s tattoo. It is of a football beating up a baseball, a basketball, and a swimmer. The tattoo shows Ritchie’s love of football. That is the point.)
Tom: Geez, Tom. What is it? What’s the problem? What’s so bad you can’t tell nobody?
(Ritchie is silent and scared)
Tom: Hey. It’s okay, Ritchie. I won’t tell anybody. I swear to Christ I won’t.
Ritchie: (struggling) Okay. Okay. Tom…I have four…I have…Damn it…You know how most people have to buy a jock strap to play football?
Tom: Yeah…Why? What, you don’t wear jock straps?
Ritchie: No. (quietly) No. I’m saying have to wear four, Tom. (begins crying) I have to wear four.
Tom: What? Because your thing is too big?
Ritchie: No...
Tom: Why else would you wear four? Hey... Wait a minute… you’ve got….Oh, I see. You’re pulling my leg. That’s funny, Ritchie, but seriously. You can tell me. Friends till the end, isn’t that what we used to say?
Ritchie: Yeah…yeah. Friends to the end. Yeah I was joking before. So…my real secret is that I had sex with a prostitute once.
Tom: A prostitute? That’s fine, Ritchie! Nobody cares. Hell, after a few drinks, my mom won’t shut up about how my dad once rang up a $1500 tab with a “lady of the evening.” Who cares? You’re not married! If anything, this just makes you more cool.
Ritchie: I guess you’re right. I don’t know what I was so worried about. Hey, it’s getting late. I’m gonna head home.
Tom: See you later, whore-in-ator.
Ritchie: Right. Good one.
(Ritchie walks away)
Ritchie (to himself): Think, Ritchie! I have to be careful. I have to keep this secret forever. (Ritchie throws the football into the end zone. Touchdown.) FOREVER!!
Different Scene: (Ritchie is with his girlfriend Melinda. She is undressing, revealing a tattoo of a volleyball kissing a football. This shows her love, respect, and attraction to football. That is the point)
Melinda: Ritchie? Please. I want to do this.
Ritchie: I do too, Melinda, but I told you when we started dating that I can’t until I get married.
Melinda: Come on, Ritchie! What is with you?! You’re the town hero, the football star. You’re going pro and everybody knows it. You’re getting out of this town, so why can’t you just take me with you, Ritchie? Aren’t I pretty enough?
Ritchie: You’re beautiful, Melinda.
Melinda: What then? You like boys?
Ritchie: No, Damn it! I just have four -- …I just can’t tell you why. I want to fuck you, Melinda. I want to very badly. Please. Can you just trust that I love you and that one day I’ll tell you why? Just – not today. But don’t worry. I promise, if I get out of this town…you’re coming with me.
Melinda: Okay Ritchie. Okay.
Ritchie: ….
Melinda: Ritchie? Ritchie? Hey, are you crying? I didn’t mean to upset you, Ritchie.
Another Scene:
(Ritchie is alone in his room. He’s been drinking and his eyes are red from crying. In his hands he holds a knife.)
Ritchie (to himself): I’ll just…I’ll cut the extras off. Cut them off. There’s no NFL without the physical, and there’s no way I’m going to the physical like this. I’ll just cut them off.
Ritchie’s Mom (from downstairs): Ritchie honey? Are you coming to dinner?
(the camera leaves Ritchie’s room and travels downstairs to meet Ritchie’s mom, who is starting to come upstairs to check on Ritchie. Suddenly we hear Ritchie scream. The camera then follows Ritchie’s mom as she quickly runs up to Ritchie’s room as she knocks on his door. The door is football shaped)
Ritchie’s Mom: Ritchie? You alright?
(no answer)
Ritchie’s Mom: Ritchie? Honey, I’m coming in.
(Ritchie’s Mom opens the door, and sees her son lying face-down on the floor, bunched up in a ball. Ritchie’s mom starts towards him, but then he gets up with a grimace on his face.)
Ritchie: I’m…coming mom. Just give me a second.
Ritchie’s Mom: Ritchie? You look like you’re in pain, honey! What happened?
Ritchie: Nothing mom. I just fell. I’m fine. Let’s eat dinner.
Thursday:
(Ritchie is again by himself in his room. He sits on his bed, looking numb.)
Ritchie: I’ve asked God for three things in my life. I wanted to be the best football player the world has ever seen. I’m not. Not yet. But I’m close. I know in my heart that God heard me and he answered me. Then I asked for God to make sure Trichelle never told anybody about what I did to her. I was kind of sorry she got hit by that car, but she’ll never talk again. God made sure. But for my entire life I’ve asked God to make me normal, make me like everybody else. 18 years. It was the one prayer He wouldn’t answer, He couldn’t hear. For 18 years He ignored me and today I finally took them into my own hands and I did what God wouldn’t do.
(Ritchie starts to cry)
Ritchie: God, I know why You didn’t listen. Please. Please. Put them back. Make them grow back.
Different Thursday
Ritchie: I’ve never trusted a sunrise, Melinda. The oranges and reds in the sky, they make it look like it’s on fire, burning away. Like it’ll burn until there’s nothing left but cold and dark and ashes.
Melinda: What are you talking about, Ritchie? Just enjoy it for what it is. Whatever happens for the rest of the day, there was at least one moment of beauty.
Ritchie. You don’t understand.
Melinda: Than teach me. I’m listening. Damn it Ritchie, I’m not just here for you, I’m H-E-A-R for you. You asked me once to trust you. Now trust me.
Ritchie: You know, everybody thinks they know what they want. Everybody’s so goddamn sure about it. People pray and wish and struggle and sacrifice to get whatever it is, and sometimes that’s great. Sometimes it works out. But not always. Sometimes it makes you cry and it makes you change suddenly you’ll never be what made you special again. Sometimes it makes you less than what you were.
Melinda: Are you talking about football, Ritchie? Do you want to stop playing football?
Ritchie: No. No I love football. That’s the only thing that makes me forget about the emptiness.
Melinda: Good. Because we need to get out of this place, Ritchie. There’s nothing here but lost chances. And crime, too. Did you see the paper yesterday? Other than the state championship, it’s the most exciting thing to happen in this town for years. It’s sick though. Cops found a baggie containing, quote, body parts from three human males. They’re looking for the killer, but they’re also trying to figure out who got murdered. So far nobody’s been reported as missing.
Ritchie: What?
Melinda: Yeah, I guess they’re sending in the body parts for a DNA analysis.
Ritchie: I’m doomed.
Later:
(Ritchie is walking by himself by the river)
Ritchie: I’ve been signed by the Colts. This should be the happiest day of my life. But it’s just a matter of time. I was so careful, I did so much to hide my secret, and in a couple of days it won’t matter. Trying to rid myself of the problem just made it 10 times worse. Any day now, they’re going to come to my door and everyone will know. Everyone. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Should I just throw myself in the river and end it all, spare myself the shame?
(Ritchie looks at the rushing river which seems to be calling him, begging for his soul)
Ritchie: No. That river is haunted.
