Author’s Note: It may have been for my 11th or 12th birthday or for Christmas, when I was a pre-teen, but at some point my mother presented me with the “gift” of a jockstrap, pink and white sweater, and pink, flare pants. Gee, mom, thanks for the ensemble. What are you trying to do to me? That incident, and other power struggles between the two of us, provided the inspiration for this short play—really more of a scene from a play. Thankfully, no, it never happened quite like this. I originally wrote the piece in 1998. I struggled with the staging, moving the young boy out-of-sight just off-stage, concerned about his privacy and self-esteem. A re-write in 1999 had him emerge from the bathroom as a fully grown man.
SUPPORTER
a short play
(Master bedroom in a contemporary suburban home. Two doors, one upstage center to hall; the other, center stage left, to bathroom. JIMMY, 11, runs through the upstage door and around to downstage side of a queen-sized bed that dominates the set facing stage left. MOTHER, 40ish, holding a jockstrap, runs in close behind him, positioning herself on the bed’s upstage side. She has him cornered.)
MOTHER
Put it on.
JIMMY
No, I don’t want to.
MOTHER
Stop being a baby. Just put it on.
JIMMY
No. Leave me alone.
MOTHER
All the other boys in school wear them. Why won’t you?
(She makes her way around to the bed’s downstage side as he scrambles across it to the upstage side.)
JIMMY
They do not. I’ve never seen one.
MOTHER
Look, I went out of my way to go to Sears to get this for you. Now I want you to try it on.
JIMMY
No.
MOTHER
You’re growing up. You’ll be a man soon. You’re going to need this to hold things in place.
JIMMY
I don’t want to.
(She circles back the other way.)
MOTHER
What are you so afraid of? It’s perfectly natural. All men wear them.
JIMMY
Dad doesn’t.
MOTHER
Listen, your father doesn’t do a lot of things that other men do. That doesn’t matter.
JIMMY
If he doesn’t have to, I don’t either.
(He scrambles back over the bed to the other side.)
MOTHER
Leave your father out of this. Other men wear them.
JIMMY
They do not.
(She starts back around.)
MOTHER
Yes, they do.
JIMMY
How do you know?
MOTHER
That’s not important. Now come here and put this on.
JIMMY
No way.
(He clambers over the bed just out of her reach and runs through the center stage left door into the bathroom.)
MOTHER
Jimmy, open this door right now.
JIMMY
No!
MOTHER
I’m not kidding around. Open this door!
JIMMY
No!
MOTHER
I’m going to count to three.
One . . .
Two . . .
Three . . .
MOTHER
Jimmy, open this door!
JIMMY
No!
MOTHER
If you don’t open this door right now, young man, I’m going to tell Mrs. Gross that you wouldn’t do this. I’ll call her right now and tell her to make you stand in the corner all day tomorrow in school. Then all the other kids will know. (Pause.) I mean it, Jimmy.
(After a moment, he slowly and reluctantly opens the door. He remains just out of sight offstage.)
MOTHER
Here.
(She holds it out to him. We see his arm reluctantly take it.)
MOTHER
Take your pants off.
(He doesn’t budge.)
MOTHER
Take them off!
(He undoes his belt, unzips his pants and they drop to the floor.)
MOTHER
Underpants, too.
(He takes off his underpants.)
MOTHER
Put it on.
(He struggles with it.)
JIMMY
How does it go?
(She helps him.)
MOTHER
Put your legs through there. No, not there. No. There.
(He manages to get it on.)
MOTHER
Now, come out here where I can see you.
(He walks slowly onstage, defeated. He stands there before her.)
MOTHER
Let me see.
(She motions for him to turn. Humiliated, he does a 360 degree turn for her.)
MOTHER
It fits well. How does it feel?
JIMMY
Horrible.
MOTHER
You’ll get used to it.
JIMMY
I don’t want to. I hate it.
MOTHER
Well, I want you to wear it. You never want to try anything new. This time is going to be different.
JIMMY
I don’t want to.
(He starts to cry. She goes over to him and rubs his head.)
MOTHER
Such a baby. (Pause.) And growing up so fast.
(Curtain.)
Story By Jim 
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