"Yo, MVB, enjoy your warm up this morning?" Coach Sanchez asked, as he walked up to the rack of medicine balls. He grabbed the wrong ball. Put it back. The grabbed Chad and squeezed him saying, "Ah, there you are. Mistook you for a real ball. What is is that Sinclair always said to you while you were on the football team? Oh, yeah, be the ball." Then tossing Chad in the air and catching the medicine ball, he said, "Now that you've got the basic shape, it's time for me to extract your innards and fill you with air. Then you can try being the ball for another team." Sanchez laughed. He wedged Chad under his sweaty armpit, and whistling the school fight song carried ball boy out of the weight room.
In his private cubby hole of an office, Sanchez locked the door. He cleared off his desk by shoving everything into an open drawer. The old fluorescent light fixtures buzzed loudly. In the windowless office, Chad had no idea what time of day or night it was. Sanchez set the formerly human medicine ball on the tiny desk, and went over to the bank of 3 metal lockers that had been commandeered from the locker room for storage in the coach's tiny office. There barely was room for the desk, desk chair, and the visitor's chair which was wedged perpendicular to the desk between the desk and wall. Chad had joked with Rick that it used to be an equipment store room before the painted the coach's name on the door.
Chad had a bad feeling, what was Sanchez up to? This no longer seemed like a prank.
"Aha, here it is," Sanchez said lifting something out of the middle locker. He turned and set it on the desk next to Chad.