Rikers Island Jail Football Program

Prior to her suspension, Connie had left Claude an extremely detailed journal of what plays to run in her absence. Connie had no faith that Claude knew enough about football to do it on his own.

The journal was hundreds of pages thick and Connie took the time to write everything out on a 3rd grade reading level as she also questioned Claude’s IQ at times.

This journal would really have helped Claude today…had he remembered to bring it with him….

Claude checked through all of the clipboards as the team captains met at midfield for the coin toss. It was nowhere to be found. Claude could only shake his head and down another large gulp of ‘Special Gatorade.’

Claude’s consumption of this highly alcoholic mixed drink was already causing him to wobble around and slur his words so the fact that he continued to drink such large gulps of it didn’t bode well for his chances of making it through the game.

Army won the coin toss and elected to kick the ball. Army had no faith that the Rikers Island offense could score on them so they elected to kick so that they’d get the ball first in the 2nd half.

Claude babbled something incoherently, and the confused kick return team ran onto the field. With normal kick returner, Blair McCormick, out due to a shanking injury, the kick returning duties fell to reserve running back, Skip Clay.

Clay’s heart was pounding in his chest as the kicker ran up to boot the ball down the field. Clay’s passion and drive to succeed were undeniable, but in reality he was just really, really bad at football. Clay had earned the respect of head coach Connie Jenkins, but even she realized how bad he was and only used him occasionally.

The kicker booted it down the field, right towards Clay. Clay stepped up nervously and prepared to catch the ball. However, the ball connected solidly with his facemask, and bounced off him at a high rate of speed… FUMBLE!

The impact of the football on his facemask had thrown Clay off, and he stumbled around trying to gain his balance. He was standing right over the ball before he became overbalanced and toppled out of bounds on his face. Army easily recovered the fumble after that.

Claude was staring blankly at that failure, and reached for his ‘Special Gatorade’ canister. After a big gulp, Claude burped, and took another gulp. He felt as though booze would be the only way to make it through this game.

Army’s coach realized how pathetic the Rikers Island Inmates were so he took the opportunity to begin working on crazy trick plays, and fake field goals etc. The formations that Army lined up in were ridiculous, but Rikers Island still couldn’t find a way to stop them. Army scored easily on a fake field goal lateral to the kicker who sprinted 30 yards around the end into the endzone.

The TD came with only 13 seconds off the clock. Claude hastily finished off the last of his ‘Special Gatorade’ and begin to whip up another batch. He poured 95% alcohol into his canister over halfway up, before adding a splash of blue Gatorade and a splash of red Gatorade. Upon completing the new batch, Claude quickly took another huge swig. His blood-alcohol level had to be getting dangerous.

Once again, Rikers Island prepared for the Army kick. Skip Clay was really beating himself up for how much he was costing his team. The kick sailed towards him again, and Clay vowed to catch it at all costs.

The kick was beginning to look like it wouldn’t quite make it to him, so Clay needed to adjust. Instead, Clay decided that he would try to dive towards the ball and snag it before it hit the ground.

Clay badly misjudged the dive, and he face-planted into the ground before the ball even got there. The ball then solidly connected with the top of his helmet and shot off…FUMBLE!

Thankfully for Rikers Island, the ensuing fight for the fumble resulted in it being Rikers Island ball. Clay was crushed by yet another failure and slowly trudged off the field, hanging his head.

Rikers Island quarterback Wallace Brunner looked towards Claude to figure out what to do as the offense made its way onto the field. However, Claude was still sipping on his canister, and was wobbling around by himself, oblivious as to what was going on.

Brunner tried to get his attention but realized that the play clock was running down. He quickly ran to the huddle and said “Pass! Break!” and everyone broke the huddle and confidently walked to the line.

Brunner was ready because he knew that the center, Steve Wilson, would hike the ball at any time. He just waited and sure enough, Wilson randomly hiked it, and the play began. Brunner caught the hike, and began looking around.

Apparently the line had once again forgotten that they needed to block for their quarterback, so instantly, multiple Army defenders were running directly towards Brunner.

Brunner squealed like a girl, and wildly tossed a high floater pass down the field to nobody in particular. The Army free safety easily fielded the soft lob, and intercepted the pass. He began to run towards the end zone and only had one man to beat, Brunner.

Brunner had somehow missed the fact that the defense stops chasing the quarterback once he throws the ball. Brunner was still scared that the defense was coming, so he was still sprinting away from the defense and squealing like a girl, fearing that they were right behind him.

The Army defender looked confused as he easily scored a TD as Brunner cowered behind the goal post of the end zone.

Once again, the opposing team had taken a multiple TD lead over the Rikers Island Inmates with less than a minute off the clock. Claude guzzled more and more of his ‘Special Gatorade’ as the game continued to get worse.

Skip Clay had had enough with failure. He personally blamed himself for both touchdowns and was on the verge of tears. He demanded that he did better. The only problem was, that he had demanded himself to do so…loudly…to where others had heard him on the sideline….

Multiple Inmate teammates simply stared at Clay as he slapped himself in the head and told himself to do better. Claude just rolled his eyes, and held his canister, bottoms up, and guzzled as much as he could before ‘Special Gatorade’ began running down his chin, and he had to pause before losing his balance.

Clay was still angry cursing at himself, as the kick came his way. He stepped up proudly, and opened up his arms to catch the ball.

Clay badly mistimed the time to close his arms, and the ball sailed in and smacked him right between his legs. Clay crumpled to the ground in pain and the ball shot off at a high rate of speed… FUMBLE!

Clay twitched and flopped trying to find the football, but couldn’t before an Army defender scooped it up and easily jogged in for yet another score. Clay’s agonizing pain hadn’t stopped and the medical staff had to come check on him.

Clay’s hostile tone with himself had turned to a high-pitched sorrowful voice as he was informing himself of the shame that he was causing himself, and he even went so far as to tell himself that he was a disgrace to humankind as a whole.

The medical staff could only look at each other in disbelief, and rule him out for the rest of the game. Clay was strapped to a stretcher as he scolded himself for not living up to the higher standards that he had set for himself.

Claude was working on a third batch of ‘Special Gatorade’ while Clay was being attended to. All of the alcohol in his system had brought out the immature side of him, and Claude had burst out laughing when Clay got hit in his crotch. Claude was spewing profain and lude crotch jokes on the sideline in between gulps of ‘Special Gatorade.’

The jokes were so distasteful that even the inmates were in disbelief. Claude began getting darker and dirtier the more he drank.

He eventually drained the last of the 3rd batch and was slowly stumbling towards the table to make more.

“Coach…uh…you okay?” Wide receiver Devon Howard seemed concerned. Claude mumbled something incoherently and began to pour alcohol into his canister.

As drunk as Claude was, his aim was way off so he poured alcohol all over the table along with his canister. He finally filled up the canister to the brim after emptying out nearly an entire bottle of alcohol. Claude sipped the alcohol enough to add splashes of Gatorade.

As he staggered towards the Gatorade coolers, Devon Howard once again expressed his concern.

“Uh…coach…that ain’t a good idea, bruh!”

Claude babbled angrily towards Devon.

“You weren’t no good idea noways, neither!”

Devon tried to determine what that meant as Claude began adding the Gatorade to his alcohol.

He spilled red and blue Gatorade all over the turf before finally filling up his drink. Claude took a huge gulp as he began walking back towards the sideline.

The medical staff had just walked up with Clay on the stretcher, so Claude regressed to more ‘crotch’ jokes. The nature of his jokes was so dark and distasteful that the medical staff and the inmates were staring blankly at him.

Claude guzzled the Special Gatorade in between jokes until slowly the world around him simply became lights, and colors, and sounds. The colors soon became shapes and the shapes soon became splotches, and the splotches soon began to fly around. A huge thud sounded throughout the stadium and everything in Claude’s head went dark.

Claude had passed out drunk. His mouth was wide open, and drool was running down his chin. His canister spilled all over the turf.

Claude wouldn’t move a muscle until late in the 4th quarter. He slowly opened his eyes to see an entirely empty dome as the football game was coming to a close.

The Army fans had left, the inmates caged in the ‘Student Section’ had left at halftime due to lockdown rules, and there were no home fans, as always. The team had put a towel underneath Claude’s head, a wet towel on Claude’s head, a trash can beside Claude, and filled his canister up with water.

Claude began to stir, and multiple inmate players began to make their way over to him. Claude took a swig of his canister as Devon Howard inquired as to if he was okay or not.

“Coach…uh… you okay, bruh? Told you that it won’t a good idea, bruh.”

Claude instantly spat out the water. Still clearly intoxicated from his earlier drinking, Claude angrily cursed his team.

“What’s this hog wash crap! I ain’t drankin’ nothing but my Gatorade. My Gatorade is mine! All mine! That there Gatorade is mine! It’s mine and I want it! Give me my Gatorade!”

Claude hurled his canister towards Devon.

Then a look of horror came over Claude and he dove for the trash can. He proceeded to become sick and throw up non-stop into the trash can.

He threw up so loudly that the refs paused the game in an effort to allow him to leave the game. Claude couldn’t leave he was so sick. He kept on throwing up until eventually the refs called the game off with 6:24 left, with Army up 112-0.

Claude would stay hunched over the trash can for hours after the game was completed. The lights of the dome were eventually turned off with Claude still throwing up….