A week before the first game, the team gathered at King Park’s rec building for a preliminary weigh-in—the moment every boy dreaded and joked about all at once. They were a Light Midget team, which meant one iron rule: No player over 130 pounds. Anyone over that weight couldn’t play in that week’s game. No exceptions. No sneaking around it. The pressure was real. Jimmy just wanted to make sure where everyone was at, weight-wise.
Kids lined up in front of the old scale—the kind that clanked when you stepped on it and had a little sliding weight you pushed across until the needle balanced. Tony went first.
“110 pounds!” Stuart called out.
Tony flexed like he’d won a championship.
“Still skinny and fast, baby!”
Marcus stepped on.
“122 pounds!” He nodded proudly.
“That’s linebacker weight right there.”
Reggie: 108. Leon: 116. Derrick: 126.
“Made it!” Derrick breathed, stepping off the scale with relief.
Everything was going smoothly, that is until Loco stepped up.
Loco—real name Darren—was thick, strong, low to the ground, and pure muscle. Nobody hit like Loco. Nobody dragged defenders like Loco. He ran people over like a freight train—thus the nickname Locomotive.
He grinned confidently as he stepped on the scale, rocking on his heels. The other two coaches, Stuart and Lenny watched as Jimmy slid the weight marker. 110… 120… 130… It didn’t balance. He pushed it farther. 132… 133… 135… It finally balanced. The boys froze. Coach Jimmy blinked twice.
“135 pounds,”
The team groaned like they just lost a game. Tony put both hands on his head.
“Ohhhh nooooo…”
Marcus fell backward in the grass.
“Aw man!”
Reggie whispered,
“Loco… you… heavy.”
The only person quiet was Loco himself. He stared at the number like it personally insulted him.
Coach Jimmy sighed.
“You got one week, Darren. One week to drop five pounds or you’re not playing in the first game.”
Loco nodded slowly.
“Yes sir.”
After practice, some of the team crossed over to 42nd Street, stopping at Curran’s, the iconic burger stand that had been a Southside staple since 1948. The smell of grilled onions and burgers drifted toward the sidewalk. The windows steamed a little from the heat of the kitchen.
Only a few people were lined up inside. The team piled in—sweaty, loud, hungry. They grabbed menus even though most of them already knew what they wanted.
Behind the counter, the waitress—a woman named Deb, who’d worked the grill for years—called out:
“All right, guys, what’ll it be? One at a time!”
Tony ordered a double burger. Marcus got a cheeseburger basket. Reggie ordered two hot dogs. Leon ordered a chocolate shake and fries. Derrick ordered a cheeseburger, fries, and a root beer. Then Loco stepped up to the counter, menu in hand.
Everyone watched.
Loco squinted at the menu like he was reading ancient scripture. He rubbed his chin. He tilted his head. He whispered to himself. Finally, he said loudly, “I think I’ll have…” Before he could finish, Marcus slid in next to him and said:
“Remember what Jimmy said about your weight.”
The entire crew nodded solemnly.
Loco frowned… then looked back at the menu with all seriousness. “I think I’ll have…” He dragged out the pause, rubbing his chin in deliberation. “…..a glass of water.”
For half a second, the place went silent. Then everything exploded: The fellas doubling over. An old man in the corner waiting on his order laughed so hard his teeth flew out of his mouth. Even waitress Deb slapped the counter howling:
“A glass of WATER?!”
Loco, clearly embarrassed.
“What? I gotta lose weight!”
Tony yelled,
“He on that WATER DIET!”
Reggie fell against the wall.
Derrick was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes.
It was one of those special moments that you remember forever.
Despite the jokes, they finally pulled it together.
“Okay, Loco,” Derrick said. “We all gonna run before every practice.”
“Every practice” Marcus echoed.
“We’ll make sure you sweat,” Leon added.
“And don’t eat no burgers,” Reggie warned.
Loco sighed dramatically.
“No burgers? This is gonna be the worst week of my life.” But he smiled. Because he knew they had his back.
Before every practice, Loco, and the rest of the team ran laps. Jimmy, Stuart, and Jimmy were impressed to see how the team supported each other.
Every afternoon, Loco practiced hard. He drank water, avoided fries, and pretended not to cry at the sight of hamburgers. By the next weigh-in? He stepped on the scale. Jimmy slid the weight marker. 110… 120… 127… 128… 129. It balanced perfectly.
“129 pounds!” Jimmy shouted. “Legal!”
The team erupted. Tony lifted him off the ground, and almost strained his back. Marcus slapped his shoulder pads. Reggie danced. Leon yelled,
“THE LOCO DIET WORKED!”
And Derrick grinned big.
“You made it.”
Loco wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead.
“I’d like to thank water… and my teammates… and water again.”
The first game was coming. And now? They were all eligible. All ready. All together.