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iswearonmarcuskane · 7 years

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Kickin’ & Screamin’ // Chapter 4

Title: Kickin’ & Screamin’ Fandom: The 100 Pairing: Kabby Tag/Warnings: Modern AU Setting, Kicking and Screaming AU, Kid!Delinquents Chapter(s): 4/22 Read earlier chapters on: AO3

Chapter Summary: the chapter in which kabby makes "shit show" a synonym for "practice"

Chapter 4: If there is no struggle, there is no progress

Marcus wasn’t lying. It’s gonna be a long season.

When they had announced the merge to the team, immediately Cece and Roan complained. Jaha had said something along the lines of, “we’re more screwed than we were before, and we were in the last!” When they had dispersed for practice, Jackson pulled her to the side to ask her, “You okay?”

The only two who didn’t seem to have a problem with it was David Miller and Sinclair. Abby thinks she actually heard them discussing which snacks to bring after their first game. Abby had half a mind to tell them to bring her scotch. She was going to need a bottle on the sideline the way things were going.

The kids didn’t seem to care much. Only Bellamy, Clarke, and Wells seemed to take any interest in the news. Probably because they were the only ones who actually cared that much.

And Abby knew her and Marcus were going to clash at some point with their coaching style. She didn’t think it would happen with the first drill she tried to run, but boy was she wrong. She should’ve known, it was Marcus she was dealing with after all.

For the Lifesavers, every practice started with sharks and minnows, a simple drill to get the kids’ legs moving and get them interested in practice. When she brought up the idea to Marcus he instantly shut it down.

“A game?”

“For warm up, Marcus,” she snapped back, not missing the distasteful edge in his voice. He made it seem like it was a kid’s game, which it was because they were kids. She crossed her arms, being defiant. “We can do more serious things after warm up.”

“Everything should be serious,” he immediately replied. He shook his head, “That way you can improve and win games.”

Abby didn’t even bother pointing out that if that had been his plan every year, it sucked. His only win was against her and it wasn’t that hard to win against her. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone or stand for it if anyone told her that.

“Fine,” she said, throwing her hands up in defeat. “What would you like to do for warm up, Marcus?”

“That sounds sarcastic,” he commented, watching her carefully.

She wanted to say, “No shit,” but all the kids were starting to come over to them. Instead, she smiled at him and said, “I have no idea what you mean.”

He watched her for a few more seconds before he grabbed one of his bags. He started to pull out blue like clothing and told her, “We always do possession for warm up. A good way to get their mind focused right away.”

Abby quickly grabbed one of the blue things and held it up, tilting her head to get a better look at it. “What the hell is this?”

Marcus finished getting them out of his bag and he looked up. He seemed confused by her question, stating like it was obvious, “It’s a penny.”

“This is a penny?” It certainly didn’t look like one. “Where did you get it? The dollar store?”

He looked offended and ripped it out of her hands. She looked to him, the dumbfounded look still on her face. “Hilarious,” was all he replied with.

“I’m serious!” She said, a little laugh mixed in. He gave her a pointed look and she held her hands up in defense. “Those seriously can’t be the only ones you have.”

He didn’t respond but opened the same bag he had just pulled the blue “pennies” from. He pulled out red, green, and yellow ones too. Abby wanted to laugh, really wanted to laugh. “Well,” she piped up, “at least you’re consistent.”

He rolled his eyes and began handing the blue pennies to five of the kids. He announced what they were doing to the kids, “We’re going to start off with a game of possession. The team who doesn’t have the ball after five minutes will have a punishment to do.”

Clarke looked to her mom, asking, “No sharks and minnows?”

Abby shook her head and said, “We’re going to switch it up today, okay? We’ll play it later, though, promise.”

Clarke smiled and nodded and walked off to the grid where they would be playing. Abby took in a mental note how Clarke was basically swimming in her “penny”. She also took a mental note to never let Marcus handle equipment again.

Marcus passed the ball into the grid and started his stop watch. Abby watched him as he watched the drill. He had his arms crossed his chest, eyes scanning the tiny grid.

Abby crossed her arms as well, asking him, “So, what will the punishment be if they lose? Five ‘I’m a star!’ jumps?”

He looked to her, his face portraying the phrase, “Are you serious?”

She nudged her head towards him, asking, “Well?”

He shook his head and told her, “They’ll be running.”

She looked to him in a bit of shock. “Running?” He nodded. “It’s a warm up drill, Marcus.”

“And they’ll learn to never to lose in any part of the game,” he responded, his eyes on the grid once again. “Move after you pass, Clarke. You’ll open up space for Octavia.”

Abby gave him a hard look for lecturing Clarke but when she watched the scene unfold, the anger in her boiled down a tiny fraction. Octavia did have more space to move into to find Jasper, who was open for a pass. Okay, maybe Marcus could coach a little. Still, he didn’t have to suck the fun out of everything to be a good coach.

“What part of this is supposed to be fun?” She asked.

He looked over to her now. He examined her for a bit and said sarcastically, “Wearing the pennies.”

She chuckled a bit. She examined him as well, noting that again his hair was gelled back perfectly. It was another humid day and she was surprised the gel didn’t melt off his hair. She wasn’t sure which bugged her more: his hair or the pennies.

She looked at the poor excuse of a penny Clarke was wearing and then back to his hair. She shrugged, telling him, “Well, maybe if you didn’t spend all your money on hair gel, maybe the kids could have real pennies.”

That smirk formed on his lips again, his hand moving up to scratch at his jaw. He looked over to her, mocking her, “Won’t that get rid of the fun?”

She had to give him that one, she walked into it. Didn’t mean she didn’t have a line to shoot back. She shrugged, telling him, “I don’t know. Maybe if you let your hair breathe, you won’t be so uptight.”

He looked over to her, the smirk growing the tiniest bit. She also noticed his face was perfectly shaven too, no sign of stubble, five o’clock shadow, or cuts from his razor blade. She reached up and patted his left cheek. “Loosen up the tight schedule on your shaving too. The world won’t end if you forget to shave one morning. Might take away some stress.”

Plus, she liked stubble on a man.

“Coach, it doesn’t look you’re in total control of this situation.”

“I know, Jaha,” Abby responded, voice dripping with sarcasm. It wasn’t like Abby couldn’t tell that for herself.

Marcus had completely taken over practice, not letting her have a word. Right now, she was sitting on the bench, sneaking a shot from Cece’s flask. If she didn’t have to drive and try to coach these kids, she would down the thing in a few seconds.

Abby tried getting the kids to play shark and minnows after a way too serious shooting drill. Poor Wells was being pelted with shots. The boy got hit in the face more than once and when Abby tried to check him out, Marcus told her to wait till the round was over. He had told her, “It builds strength.”

Abby told him it builds concussions. He ignored her.

So in response, when the kids were taken their first water break of the practice, Abby started setting up the grid for sharks and minnows. Marcus was picking up his cones when he noticed and immediately came over. He demanded to know what drill she was setting up.

So, she told him. You could say his unhappy with her response. His exact response was, “You are not dumbing down the tone I’ve set for this practice.”

You can say Abby was also unhappy with his response. So she ignored him back and kept setting the cones up. He picked up every one she laid down. When she noticed she chucked the cones at him, making a mess.

They glared at each other before Abby finally stormed off to where she was now. This situation wasn’t any better, Jaha again- like usual- was telling her what a horrible job she was doing. He always seemed to be paying attention when things were going wrong. He never noticed the good things.

Currently, Marcus had the kids doing a 1v1 drill. There were three boxes lined up. In each box, Raven, Murphy, and Miller stood in their own in that order. The other seven kids had to try and beat all three. First, they had to stay in the boundaries and get past Raven. If they succeed, they tried to get past Murphy. If they succeed, then they tried to get past Miller. If they got through all three boxes without getting knocked out, then they’d get a point.

It was Clarke’s turn and she watched as Raven immediately stuck her foot out, diving in. Clarke easily dribbled by her and into Murphy’s square. Murphy ran up, making his presence immediately known. He had too much momentum going forward however and Clarke easily spun around him. She entered the last square where Miller just stood there, watching her.

Clarke carefully approached him but Miller didn’t budge. He looked upset and angry. He wasn’t even watching her anymore, he was busy glaring at where Murhpy and Raven were paying attention to the next player, Octavia.

Clarke easily dribbled by him, Miller not trying to stop her at all. Marcus immediately stopped the drill, walking up to Miller. He asked him, “Why didn’t you tackle, Clarke? You let her dribble right by!”

He looked to Marcus unphased by the anger in his tone. He looked to where Murphy and Raven were watching him. He said, “Maybe they shouldn’t have let her pass them either.”

Both Murphy and Raven immediately looked offended and Marcus looked to them and then back to Miller. He told him, “The difference between Clarke passing them and Clarke passing you was that they put effort into it. You didn’t move.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, staring up back to Marcus. “The difference was they sucked.”

“Talk for yourself, Miller,” Raven spat at him.

Miller looked around Marcus, rising an eyebrow at her. “Me?” He asked, “I’m pretty sure I didn’t dive in. I remember that clearly every time we versed you. Made it easy for Bellamy to beat you.”

Raven crossed her arms this time, tilting her head. “And like it wasn’t easy for Clarke to beat you every time? You never move.”

He shrugged, telling her, “At least I don’t fail every time I try.”

“Alright, that’s it,” Raven mumbled and started to walk over, face showing her anger. Murphy had to hold her back while Marcus looked back to Miller.

He pointed at the end of the field and told him, “You have three full field suicides.”

Miller looked aghast and repeated him, “Three?”

Marcus nodded and turned around, leaving no room for argument. He told Miller while walking back to the beginning of the grid, “If you haven’t started by the time I tell Octavia to start, you have three more.”

Abby doesn’t think she’s ever seen Miller move so fast. Raven wasn’t exaggerating when she said Miller never moves. She’s pretty she he holds a grudge for whoever lost the ball and never helps his teammates out when they come at him. She isn’t sure what causes it but he does a damn good job at it.

Marcus had reached the beginning of the grid, where the kids were lined up. He looked at the grid and said, “Let’s switch you guys out. Let’s see…Harper, Wells, and Clarke- you guys go in the grid.”

That got Abby’s attention again. Clarke going into a defensive position? That was absurd, Clarke only played forward. Jaha commented the same, “Clarke is going to play defense? Let’s hope she’s better at that than she is at forward.”

It took everything Abby had to not punch Jaha right then and there. Wouldn’t have been the first time she’s done it. With the look Jackson was giving her, he was already mentally preparing the med kit he would have to pull out if she did hit him.

She ignored Jaha even though she really wanted to reply to him. He seemed to be oblivious to the fact that everyone heard him. Or, he didn’t give a shit.

Looking back to the drill, Harper was in the first box, then Clarke, and Wells in the last. Abby had a bad feeling in her gut about this as Marcus told Octavia to go. She slowly dribbled into the box, looking very uncertain what to do. Harper easily won the ball and knocked it out of the grid.

Next up was Bellamy who easily flew past Harper. It was like a battle of the two best players on each team when Bellamy entered Clarke’s box. Clarke took her defensive position as Bellamy charged forward.

The two immediately clashed, Clarke swinging her leg into for a tackle. The ball got stuck in between them as they fought for one to be victorious. Bellamy soon pulled the ball back and tried to use his body to brush by, but Clarke held firm, keeping him in front of her.

The two spurred for a good minute before Bellamy finally forced himself over the line, entering Wells’ box, who he easily nutmegged and ran past to catch up to the ball.

Abby looked back to her daughter to see her annoyed and upset. See, Abby knew Clarke wouldn’t like it. She knew her daughter enjoyed being up top and in charge.

Abby looked over to where Marcus stood, smirking in her direction. His eyes flickered to Bellamy and then back to her. Oh, so that’s how he wanted to play it.

Just because Bellamy got by Clarke once did not mean his team was superior. Sure, the standings clearly stated that, but it was Clarke’s first time ever trying defense out. Bellamy wouldn’t get past her next time.

Next up was Monty, who was the shyest player of Arkadia. He slowly dribbled into the box, looking up to Harper. She immediately smiled at him, telling him, “You can do it, Monty!”

Monty didn’t seem to think Monty could. He looked back to his brother, Jasper, for confirmation. Jasper grinned big, nodding his head. Monty looked back to Harper and went forward.

It was very evident that Harper let Monty pass. Everyone could see it. Marcus immediately stopped the drill and walked up to the duo. Harper looked guilty before Marcus even spoke. He asked, “Why did you let him pass?”

She looked down to her cleats and said, “Because I wanted him to believe he could do it…”

He crouched down to meet her eye level, waiting till she looked at him to reply. “We’ve been over this before Harper,” he pointed at Monty, “he won’t get better unless you push him to do his best. Giving him the easiest way out won’t help him in the end.”

All she did was nod in response. He stood up, saying, “Perfect. Monty, start over. And Harper,” she looked to Marcus, who pointed to the poor boy who was currently dying while running his suicides, “if you don’t give 100%, then you’ll be joining him for your own set of three.”

It was easy to conclude that Monty didn’t advance to Clarke’s box. Jasper gave him a supportive pat on the back as he walked by to go to the back of the line. Jasper looked to where Harper stood and told her, “See you on the other side.”

He went before Marcus told him to go and before Harper could get ready. In a panic, she stuck her foot out and caught the ball at the right time. It stopped from her foot and Jasper tripped over it, falling to the ground.

“HEY! KEEP IT CLEAN!”

The scream caught everyone off guard. Heads whipped around to find Cece suddenly standing, her lawn chair thrown a few feet behind her. Saying she was pissed was an understatement.

“Keep what clean?” Oh no. “That was a clean tackle.” Dear God, no.

Cece’s head and everyone else’s turned to see Roan, chilling on the picnic table. He seemed unbothered by the tackle but agitated by her.

She put her hands on her hips. “Clean? She tripped him!”

“She got the ball.”

“No, she didn’t.”

It was the first practice. They had many more weeks to go.

“Yes, she did.”

“No, she didn’t.”

Many practices, games, and team activities where she’d have to be with these people in the same place.

“What the hell were you watching, Cece? It’s soccer, your kid is going to fall once in a while.” Roan was now leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he watched her.

“Which is fine,” she said as she was stepping closer to him. Sinclair was trying his best to keep her back, David Miller doing the same to Roan. “But,” she continued, “only when it’s a clean tackle.”

Abby wasn’t sure how she was going to survive.

“Maybe you should stop worrying about my daughter’s ‘dirty tackles’ and maybe focus on your kid,” Roan shot back.

“Maybe you shouldn’t teach your daughter those ‘dirty’ moves,” Cece fired back.

Abby tipped the flask back up to her lips but nothing came out. She looked down into the dark opening. It represented their future: bleak.

She saw Jackson coming over to her with a water bottle. She needed something a lot stronger but she would take what she could get. He asked the question she’s heard every day since she became the coach of the Lifesavers, “You okay?”

Abby looked to where Cece and Roan were now in a full blown out argument again. David Miller and Sinclair were unfortunately stuck in the middle, just like always. Jaha was mumbling under his breath on how they were screwed. Jackson was over worrying (rightfully so) again.

And then there was Marcus. He had lost control of the kids. Harper had run over to Monty, trying to apologize for earlier, accompanied by Jasper. Octavia and Raven were pulling Miller’s penny over his head so he couldn’t see. Murphy sat by his brother, Wells, covering his cleats with grass he was pulling from the ground. Finally, Wells, Bellamy, and Clarke were watching the chaos all go down.

Marcus was frantically chasing the duo who was messing with Miller. He was yelling at Murphy to stop ruining the field and asking for the trio’s help. He was also trying to see of Jasper was okay but none of them would listen to him for he had done to Monty and Harper. He finally stopped chasing them and stood in the middle of the chaos.

They made eye contact in the midst of it. He looked lost and defeated. She shrugged, tipped the water bottle to him and winked. It was hilarious if you had a twisted sense of humor.

Two terrible teams, always have been destined to fail, now combined and destined to fail together. Ironic really, considering in the movies and novels where this happens, the two teams somehow manage to overcome their differences and become successful.

The Lifesavers and the Assassins though? That was a disaster waiting to happen.

Was Abby okay? Sure she was.

Abby had never experienced winning, she had always been at the bottom. She had always lost and yeah, it sucked, but now she has nothing to lose. She can’t lose to Marcus anymore, the only thing she ever cared about when she learned her team was hopeless.

Would beating Mount Weather be amazing? Hell yeah. Would getting Cage to finally shut up and stop his bragging be worth it? Definitely.

But let’s be realistic. This is real life, not some novel or movie. That isn’t going to happen anytime soon.

But you know what can happen? Marcus can experience everything she has. He can experience what it’s like to lose every game and never win a game. He can experience the brunt of embarrassment she faces each year at the league parties. He can lose.

And Abby would be damned if she wasn’t okay with that.

#kabby #kabby fanfic #abby griffin #marcus kane #the 100 #the 100 fanfic #lindsayisthecraic

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fredericksmeg-blog · 7 years

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Wales Weekend

The morning after we came back from Rome, I woke up, showered, and went to go to take out some cash and grab some snacks for our 7-hour journey to Pembrokeshire National Park in Wales. Around noon, we were packed and met up with the entire group. Then we flopped over to Paddington station and hung out for about 45 minutes until our train came. We were on the first train for maybe 3 hours, until we switched at Swansea for another 2-hour train to Fishguard and Goodwick. Trains are the best. I slept and listened to music and ate lots of snacks. By the time we got to the Eco-lodge we were staying in, it was almost 8 pm and we devoured the mac n cheese dinner that they’d made for us. We got settled, and then hung out in the lobby/bar area of the lodge for a few hours. I had a few very large and very strange Welsh beers, and we called it a night relatively early.

On Saturday, we woke up early, got ready, and went to breakfast. Full buffet. 5 stars. I was really excited because we were kayaking first, and I am a kayak fiend. It’s one of my favorite things to do, and I was so ready to get out there and see some cliffsides from the water. We suited up in some wetsuits, added more layers (it was cold and rainy that morning) and got into a van to drive to the Fishguard harbor where we were putting in. Before we got in the water, we did the whole health and safety thing, and we learned what you’re supposed to do if you flip over in the kayak. I was really disenchanted with this of course; because I was certain that there was no way that I’d ever tip over. I am a seasoned pro, remember? So. We get in the water and then our instructors tell us that we’re going to play a version of water polo in kayaks.

For whatever reason, I decided to get competitive about this. On our first possession, I scored a goal and subsequently yelled, “I’m an athlete!” On my team’s next possession, I reached out of my kayak for the ball and promptly flipped the whole thing over. In the case of this kayaking excursion, I was wearing a spray skirt, so I was physically attached to the kayak. That meant I needed to do the whole pull the strap and escape from inside of the kayak. Then one of the guys had to help me finagle my way back into the kayak. I don’t know why I was so uncharacteristically unphased by this, but I just kept on chugging along in my kayak for the next hour. We explored some caves and that was really fun. The worst part was getting out of the kayak and having to change into my dry clothes the parking lot. Not the best time of my life. Nevertheless, I am alive.

After that, we came back to the lodge and had lunch, which was consisted of some heavenly soup with warm bread. HUGE fan. I was pretty wiped at this point, but we had another activity in the afternoon: coasteering. I was pretty nervous about it because I had no interest in being cold again and absolutely no interest in jumping off of cliffs (I am very, very, very afraid of heights). After a short break, we met up with our instructors and suited up again. This time it was significantly harder to squish into long-sleeve wetsuits that were much tighter than the ones we wore this morning, since these were intended to keep us warmer. We looked absolutely ridiculous; by the time we left, we were each wearing a wetsuit, a wetsuit tank, wetsuit shorts, wetsuit socks, beat-up trainers, wetsuit head covers, and bright yellow helmets. Then we hopped on the bus and drove to our destination. When we got there, we pretty much just walked right into the freezing water. At first, I was a little cold, but then the wetsuit started doing its job and I was alarmingly just fine.

After we flopped around in the water for a bit, we walked through a cave and made our way across a cliff side. I was surprised at how manageable it was. Once we got to a certain point, we swam over to a ledge for people to jump off of. It wasn’t really high, but it was enough to freak me out. I found it in me to jump anyway, so that made me feel nice. I feel like there’s not a good way for me to explain what this whole activity was like, but I promise it was probably the most fun that I had the whole weekend. It was really great. Towards the end of it, the water started to get choppy as the wind picked up. We had a long swim at the end, and that KO’ed a few people. It was also really hard to pull yourself out of the water at the end. Some more people jumped off of an even higher ledge, but I honestly didn’t know if I could manage to get out of the water again, so that was my excuse to not jump. And obviously, I was really scared because it was very high up. I know myself.

After coasteering we had another lovely change-in-the-parking-lot adventure and the wind was an added bonus this time. When we got back to the lodge, I was absolutely exhausted. I rinsed off very quickly to get warm again and had a little lay down before we had dinner. For the rest of the night, we just hung out. We had a few beers again, played cards; good times were had by all. I don’t even know if I made it to 11, I was so tired. The feeling was pretty universal.

On Sunday, we woke up, ate breakfast and had some coffee, and I got ready for the last activity, which was hiking. The hike was something like 7 miles, and was supposed to take about two and a half hours. It was mostly pretty nice. It was sunny, but the wind was brutal at points and made me genuinely terrified. Actually, the whole hike was both really refreshing and totally terrifying. We were hiking along the tops of hills and cliffs directly on the coast, and in some areas there was nothing stopping you from falling all the way down to your friggin death. Maybe the worst part about it was all of the mud. It was intensely slippery and when the path involved walking up and down hills, it was genuinely horrible. I think that my fear of heights was really emphasized on this hike. No one from the lodge was there with us either, so that was also a little concerning… Anyway, I’m being dramatic. It was fine, but I would never want to repeat that hike because it made me so anxious. Give me one thing: stable ground to walk on, or a much lower coastal path. Just one of those would have been okay.

We made it back alive and I showered and ate lunch. We packed up quickly, and then our adventure weekend was over. We took the vans to the train station, got on train #1, and had a little break in Swansea. Bri and I ventured out into the city (it was a really, really cool place) and had the world’s fastest coffee break in what was actually my heaven: a craft beer and artisan coffee bar with wooden interiors and copper accents. It was even called copper, like what the heck. The lovely man behind the counter delicately made us a cheese flatbread thingy that we literally had to shove in my backpack and run to the bus stop with because it took so long. I felt so bad. He was really proud of it.

We took a bus to a train station a few stops up because there was maintenance on the line between there and Swansea. After that, we zipped all the way back to Paddington and went home. I am fairly certain that I just went straight to bed.

So that’s that. I’m nearly a month behind again so I’ll work on catching up in the next few weeks!

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itsworn · 7 years

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Grudge Secrets Revealed!

Grudge and no-prep drag racing is perhaps one of the most exciting forms of motorsports to come down the pike in quite a while. The closed-hood mystery of some of the rides, variable track prep, and a no-rules mentality leads to wild, exciting, and unpredictable racing, much like the Fuel Altereds of yesteryear.

On the West Coast, one of the biggest names in grudge racing is Jermaine “Jay” Boddie, famous not only for his 1963 Nova but for the packed-house grudge races he hosts at Sacramento Raceway a number of times a year. We were fortunate enough to attend his No Excuses 3 race to check out some of the best grudge cars the West Coast had to offer. The Pro Mods (round-tube chassis, full fiberglass body) were thankfully separated into a different class to make things fair, although if any steel-body, big-tire cars thought they could run with them, they were encouraged to enter.

With an extreme variety of cars, walking around the pits was quite a treat. We talked to owners and drivers about the specifications and strategies involved in this type of racing and how they thought their cars might perform that given day. Unfortunately, the secretive nature of grudge racing means that prying exact specs out of racers can be quite a task. Still, we were able to weasel basic information out of many competitors, including times. To paraphrase one racer: It’s not what you can run on your best pass, it’s what you can run on the next pass. Oddly enough, the fastest cars seemed the most likely to give out specifics, as many of their quickest passes were known.

When the action got started, big-tire, small-tire, and Pro Mods all started putting down fast times. If you couldn’t run in the 4s in the eighth-mile (even in Small Tire), this probably wasn’t a race you should expect to win. Not all cars were in these shootouts, however, as there was plenty of no-time grudge racing to go around that involved everything from new muscle to pickup trucks.

Unfortunately, Big Tire was the only class to finish out its race, as a bad crash by Rob Cacioppo’s Pro Mod cut the action short. With the night getting late and quite a bit of moisture in the air, Boddie made the tough choice to call the race, and the pot was split in the Pro Mod and Small Tire classes. Even with the shortened action, there were still plenty of chills, thrills, and spills, and we came away with enough knowledge to make our head spin as we dove headfirst into the world of grudge racing.

Jermaine Boddie

The man of the hour was Jermaine Boddie, who had just reintroduced his 1963 Nova to the world after a complete rebuild. After running a previous best quarter-mile time of 6.35 on drag radials, the Chevy now featured a weight reduction, a brand-new Miner Brothers Hemi with twin turbos, and a beautiful paint job from Doug Reed. Having perhaps more power than anyone actually worked against Boddie in his first outing, as he spun right before the eighth-mile and had to lift. This allowed Troy Baugh to sneak past and take the win by half a bumper.

Who: Jermaine Boddie What: 1963 Chevy Nova Engine: 526ci Miner Bros. Hemi Aspiration: Twin 98mm Precision turbochargers Boost: 40–60 psi Power: 4,000+ hp Best quarter: High-5s (Car Craft estimate)

Roger Holder

If the name sounds familiar, that’s because Roger is one of the few racers who runs back east with the radial guys in his 2000 Camaro. He also held the quarter-mile drag-radial record with a 6.07, so his timeslips aren’t a secret to anyone, either. “I can’t really hide how fast the car is these days at grudge races,” Roger says. “Of course, getting down the track is always another matter.” In Sacramento, Roger entered the Big Tire and Pro Mod classes, as he felt the power of his Proline Racing engine could run with the fiberglass-body cars. Unfortunately, Roger had nothing but problems after a blazing 4.0-second qualifying pass; a reminder that no-one is guaranteed a win. When a last-minute converter swap between rounds didn’t fix the issue, Roger was taken out by Rod Burbage.

Who: Roger Holder What: 2000 Camaro Engine: 525ci Proline Aspiration: Twin 94mm Precision turbochargers Boost: 57 psi Power: 3,500–4,000 hp (est.) Best eighth: 4.03 at 198 mph Best quarter: 6.07 at 226 mph (245-mph best speed)

Troy Baugh

A crowd favorite with wild burnouts, wild paint, and substantial amounts of methanol-fueled exhaust flame, Troy Baugh’s Camaro is one of those rides where it’s hard to tell an exact elapsed time, and he sure wasn’t telling. What we do know is the car has trapped nearly 150 mph in the eighth-mile, which means 4s aren’t out of the question. It’s also a pretty solid A to B car, as evidenced by him taking out Boddie in eliminations. One thing is clear: When he stuffed an electronically controlled, 585ci big-block with an F3 Procharger into his Camaro, he wasn’t playing to lose.

Who: Troy Baugh What: 1968 Camaro Engine: 585ci Brodix Aspiration: 136mm F3 Procharger Boost: “At least 30 psi.” Power: 2,500–3,000 hp (est.) Best eighth: Mid-4s (CC est.)

Renteria Brothers

Perhaps the most well-known four-door on the West Coast, the Renteria brothers have been racing a 1965 Valiant with two extra doors since the late-1970s. Eventually, the car got pretty fast—then really fast—then they had an all-fiberglass body built and went full Pro Mod. Tipping the scales at a mere 2,650 pounds, the Brad Anderson engine topped off with a C rotor PSI blower generates some serious steam, in the form of a best elapsed time of 5.85 at 253 mph in the quarter-mile. It was the team’s first grudge race with the car, but they were pretty unphased. “We’ve had to get down tracks that weren’t prepped for Pro Mods before; you just fiddle with the clutch to get out of the hole and then pull a little power,” says one-of-three brother Mike. With Moe, Larry, and Curly on the butterflies of their engine, you have to love the Renterias’ attitude!

Who: Mike, Tom, and Sean Renteria What: 1965 Valiant Engine: 451ci Brad Anderson Aspiration: PSI C rotor supercharger Boost: 52 psi Power: 3,500–4,000 hp (est.) Best quarter: 5.85 at 253 mph

Machine Gun Cutty

We ran into the “Machine Gun Cutty” team right before they were about to make a pass, so we were only able to grab some quick basics. The 1980 Cutlass was more grudge than any other car we ran into, with some questionable paint, beat-up fenders, and a huge big-block with a bunch of nitrous on top. What they would tell us is the engine has more than one stage of spray—with both kits turned on, their total shot is more than 500 hp—and that right now they have a lot more motor than chassis. The Cutlass gets its name by the unique four-pipe collector exhaust, and last time we saw it, the car was headed toward the sky on a launch, typical of a street-type “hook anywhere” chassis tune-up.

Who: Corey Cooper What: 1980 Cutlass Engine: 500+ci big-block Chevy Aspiration: Multi-stage fogger system Shot: 500+ hp Power: 1,500 hp (CC est.) Best eighth: Low-5s (CC est.)

Ray Dupree

Alternating between a nonexistent hood a and a Pro Stock–style scoop, Ray’s 1966 Nova is nothing but nitrous once the hood is removed. With old-school nitrous systems galore and a 598 big-block Chevy with a Powerglide, Ray was the giant killer of the bunch and could manage his horsepower down the whole eighth-mile. We’d seen the car run a test pass in the 6s in the eighth with no nitrous, and with “more than a 400 shot,” we expect Ray’s ride is at least low-5s or high-4s, no matter the track conditions. With a Big Tire class grudge victory earlier in the year, nobody was going to underestimate Ray or his purple Nova.

Who: Ray Dupree What: 1966 Nova Engine: 598ci big-block Chevy Aspiration: NOS nitrous systems (plate and fogger) Shot: 400+ hp Power: 1,500 hp (est.) Best eighth: High-4s (CC est.)

Rod Burbage/Dave Palmer

Rod Burbage is no stranger to drag racing, having campaigned a carbon-fiber-bodied, 5-second Pro Mod Chevelle for a number of years, but his latest fun involves Dave Palmer’s killer street car. The 1965 Chevelle is mostly steel and runs a 23-degree-headed big-block, so what explains the high-4-second eighth-mile elapsed times? The key is an enormous 40 pounds of boost, which helps the 477ci big-block generate an estimated 2,000–2,500 hp. With plenty of chassis experience, Dave’s hard-hooking Chevelle is always one to watch at any grudge event.

Who: Dave Palmer (owner) and Rod Burbage (driver) What: 1965 Chevelle Engine: 477ci big-block Chevy Aspiration: 14-71 SSI supercharger Boost: 40 psi Power 2,000–2,500 hp (est.) Best quarter: Mid-4s (CC est.)

Doug Reed

The man responsible for the beautiful paint on many of the northern California grudge cars, Doug Reed, has his own 1966 El Camino to play with. The street-driven Chevy (complete with high beams) had just been fitted with 94mm turbos before the event and only had a few laps prior to the race. In a Hollywood ending, Doug waded through the field of Big Tire cars all the way to the finals, where he pulled off the win! If the El Camino looks familiar, that’s because Doug raced against the Plan B Corvette driven by “Daddy” Dave in Cash Days. From the West Coast to the East, Doug’s Elky is definitely one to watch.

Who: Doug Reed What: 1966 El Camino Engine: 470ci big-block Chevy Aspiration: Twin 94mm Precision turbochargers Boost: 30+ psi Power: 2,500–3,000 hp (est.) Best eighth: Mid-4s (CC est.)

Nathan Schaldach

Part of the fun of grudge racing is you may see a certain type of car that’s very popular (in this case, a Mustang Fox-body) and have no idea how fast it is. A flat hood, no turbos, small tires—nitrous? Nate’s ’89 runs pretty well, thanks to a 440ci LSX engine with a healthy dose of nitrous oxide. The low-5-second sleeper is known around the area for being able to hook anywhere, at any time, which makes it a perfect grudge car. We also snagged the last photo of an era for Nate, as he’s reported he’s going to keep the small tires but switch to twin turbos for the car’s next outing.

Who: Nathan Schaldach What: 1989 Mustang Engine: 440ci LSX Aspiration: Starkweather Racing dry nitrous kit Shot: 400 hp Power: 1,100 hp Best eighth: 5.29 at 135 mph

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