Chapter 13

All through the week, practices were crisper. With a real game scheduled for Friday, everybody had more energy and was in a better mood, even Ichabod.

There was no doubt all the preliminary stuff was over and it was time to get ready for the real deal.

The night before the first game, practically the whole town got together downtown for a pep rally. It had become a tradition over the years on the night prior to the first game.

The band played, the cheerleaders did their thing and the players stated how good their team would be this year. The fans cheered, clapped, hollered and make lots of noise.

This team was different. The coaches noticed it early and continued to see it every day. They were serious about changing what happened over the last two years. The coaches saw the determination and chemistry of the team. Cole’s best teams were that way. He knew this team had a chance to be good, mainly because of the defense, but there were a lot of questions that needed to be answered before this team was measured along with some of his better teams.

Cole had been through this many times but it still gave him goosebumps. There was such excitement among the crowd, he almost wished he could put on the pads again.

Petros’ band finished up the pep rally with the school song. The whole crowd clapped and sang along, the music echoing off the downtown buildings. Cole looked around at the crowd, amazed at what he saw. He always expected the band, cheerleaders, team and some students to show up. But it looked like the whole town was there, not just to be seen but to offer support.

When he got home, Cole read the Bible and tried to relax. He knew sleep would not come easy and it didn’t.

Down the hallway, his youngest son was fighting the same battle. It was like he drank too much caffeine and was paying the price, although water was the only thing Lucky drank. He was nervous and couldn’t stay still. Sleep refused to come so he thought about the game. Lucky couldn’t remember being this nervous. He always had trouble sleeping the night before games, even as a little boy. Now that Lucky was playing for the varsity, it made sleeping even harder.

Lucky had not missed a game in ten years, always dreaming about the day when he got to wear the uniform and play before the huge crowd. Now, that time had arrived. Lucky was finally a Petros Panther and it seemed unreal.

He knew it would be rough sitting on the bench since he wanted to contribute so bad, but also knew why his playing would be limited. He was only a sophomore and there were a lot of talented juniors and seniors available. Lucky knew Ichabod planned to use him some on defense and he hoped to contribute.

Sleep finally won the battle well after midnight, but it wasn’t a night of peaceful dreams. Not on this night, with football finally starting the following evening.

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When the alarm clock went off, Lucky thought there was no way it was already time to get up. That was followed by the realization it was game day. Despite the lack of sleep, this was not one of those mornings when it was hard to get out of bed and start the day. He hopped out of the bed and hurried to the shower, already excited about the game.

The day dragged on and seemed to take forever. He had a hard time paying attention in class, his thoughts on the game, not the fall of Rome or a subjective verb.

The final bell tolled, sending the students home for the weekend. Lucky and his father got together around five to eat at the Downtown Cafe. They each had a small steak, baked potato and salad. Cole hated eating before games, as did his son, but they forced it down, wanting to make sure they had enough energy.

Cole went back to the stadium, walking the field to make sure everything was ready. As he walked off the field, the first bus from Conser drove into the parking lot.

He stood for a minute, watching his opponents exit the bus. Cole always felt like he could learn a lot by watching how players on other teams acted at a time like this. When he saw most of the Conser players laughing and joking, it made Cole feel better. When a team acted like that, it usually meant the team either didn’t care, which Cole knew wasn’t the case, or felt overconfident.

The first group of Petros players started arriving a little before six. They walked to their lockers, finally getting to see their white helmets adorned with the black numbers on both sides. Inside the lockers were the uniforms with the black shirts with white numbers and solid black pants.

The black shoes were shined, as were the white helmets. Unlike other schools, the players did not wear their jerseys to school on game day. They wore them to the pep rally the previous night, then turned them in before going home. The players only wore their jerseys the day of a game during playoffs, a tradition that had been going on forever and made those games even more special.

The players looked out on the field, seeing Conser’s players already taking the field in their road uniforms with silver helmets and pants, white shirts with blue numbers and their last names on the back.

The Cowboys certainly looked impressive as they entered the field. Cole knew Conser was loaded with good athletes every year, but the Cowboys looked even more impressive this year.

Conser had almost seventy players dress out. The stands on both sides were filled nearly half an hour before kickoff. By gametime, there were almost as many fans standing along the chainlink fences and in the endzone as there were in the stands.

It was a hot, late-summer evening. The sun would not set until thirty minutes after the game started. Everybody knew it would be hot and came prepared, not that it really helped. The only people happy with this heat were the band parents in the concession stands, knowing they would have a good night selling soft drinks and bottled waters.

Cole was never big on pre-game talks when his players were ready to play and his team was good to go. He didn’t need to dwell on the nightmare from the previous year. All the players remembered and were determined not to let history repeat.

After Pastor Furman led the team in prayer, Cole walked to the front of the room and cleared his throat.

“This is it, boys,” he began. The players were seated in chairs in front of their lockers, getting last drinks before taking the field. “You guys have the chance to do something special tonight and this year.

“We have a long way to go and this is the first step. Don’t think about anything tonight other than winning this game.”

He stopped and got a drink, his mouth dry and voice scratchy.

“On offense, we need to control the ball,” he advised. “Keep cranking out those first downs. Conser can’t score if we have the ball and take care of it. On defense, don’t give up the big plays. Make them earn everything.

“Give everything you’ve got. This is our time. Play like you’re capable. You know and I know nobody outside this room believes we can win. I’d like to prove something tonight and get off to a good start. Play like a Petros Panther! Hit them like they’ve never hit been hit before. When they think they can’t take anymore, hit them even harder!”

When Cole finished, the players jumped up from their chairs, swarming to the door leading toward the field. The players shouted and pounded each other. They gathered together in the end zone close to the goalpost.

As the fans saw the players, a roar rose from the home side. The players waited until everybody was present and then took off down the long spirit line, two lines consisting of fans, the band and cheerleaders.

The band played the school song as the players ran through the narrow tunnel. Everybody on the home side stood, clapped along with the song and hollered encouragement.

Lucky had goosebumps while going through the spirit line, a moment he had dreamed of for many years. He tried to remember everything, from the sounds to the looks on the faces of the fans as they shouted encouragement. Lucky was near the back and saw the first wave of players bust through the banner urging the Panthers to cream the Cowboys.

The Panthers jogged down to the end zone then back to midfield. The captains from both sides were meeting in the center of the field, listening to the officials’ instructions. Petros won the coin toss and deferred to the second half. Conser choose to receive while the Panthers elected to defend the north goal and have the wind for the first quarter.

It wasn’t much of a wind, but any advantage would help.

As the coaches gave the final instructions to the kicking teams, the roars from both sides nearly drowned them out. The excitement was in the air, a feeling hard to duplicate.

The two teams broke away from the coaches and took the field, lining up opposite each other. As Jeremy prepared for the kick, everybody in the stadium stood, hollering and clapping.

The referee blew his whistle and motioned for Jeremy to proceed. Petros’ kicker raised his arm, waited a couple of seconds while looking to both sides to make sure his teammates were ready, then dropped his arm while jogging toward the football, waiting for him on the tee.

His foot met the ball solid, sending it soaring down the field and the football season was finally here.

Chapter 14

Chapter 12

Lucky was stretched out on his bed, reading his Bible. He had on a pair of gray shorts and a black tee-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The covers were thrown back but he hadn’t gotten inside yet. He tried to spend some time every night reading the Bible and it always seemed to make him feel better. Lucky also usually learned something new, even though he had read it several times.

His room was much like that of most other boys his age, only a little cleaner and without any posters of scantily clad women. Most of the decorations were pictures and posters of sports. There was a small bookshelf crammed with books, mostly about sports and history.

In the corner was a desk with a computer on top, one he purchased earlier in the summer with money earned from working. His television was turned to a NFL exhibition game between the Browns and his favorite pro team, the Kansas City Chiefs. Most of the other football fans in Petros favored the Dallas Cowboys but he always liked the Chiefs.

While he liked the Cardinals in baseball and the Chiefs in pro football, no team in the NBA stood out. He rarely even watched a pro game until the playoffs and then favoring the underdog was the norm.

In baseball, the Chicago Cubs were a close second. All his life, Lucky had watched the Cubs play on television and always wanted to see them play at Wrigley Field once before the field was torn down to make room for one of those modern stadiums.

It was a little frustrating being a fan of a team that seldom won more than it lost, but his allegiance never wavered. All his friends liked the Braves, mainly because they were on television almost every day and seemed to be in the playoffs every year. He’d stick with the Cards and the Cubbies.

His two favorite college teams were Oklahoma and Oklahoma State. He had posters of both teams on his wall. If he didn’t wear clothing with Petros on it, his attire usually featured something from Oklahoma or Oklahoma State.

Lucky even liked hockey, one of the few fans in Petros. The Detroit Red Wings were his favorites, a team he had watched since getting interested in the sport. Lucky had trouble getting into it during the regular season, but his interest grew once the playoffs started. He didn’t share his passion for hockey with others, knowing most Petros residents wouldn’t understand.

With the television muted, Lucky heard his father in the bedroom down the hall. Cole had started praying and would continue until he got things right with God. Lucky knew his father read the Bible at least an hour each day and probably spent almost as much time praying.

Cole didn’t ask for wins on the playing field, instead asked for guidance, grace, wisdom and help to be a better witness and to do His will, whatever it might be.

Lucky knew his father could quote most of the scriptures from the Bible. It was a gift Cole had, a memory as sharp as that of many preachers.

This was Cole’s nirvana. He knew no matter how good or bad the day was, it would end great. He finished off the day feeling a peace and calm that enriched him.

He was a deacon at his church and filled in when the pastor missed services over the years, delivering a message good enough many in the audience thought Cole went into the wrong profession.

It hadn’t always been that way for Cole, however. As a child, both his parents died when he was only four. His house caught on fire and Cole escaped by climbing out a window and jumping to a nearby tree. He climbed down the tree then stood in the yard, his feet wet from dew, watching the house burn and wondering why his parents weren’t outside with him.

His parents and sister perished in the fire. He didn’t remember many of the details, but that awful night still visited him in his sleep, imagining the screams of his parents and sister, asking him to help. Cole never remembered hearing screams and knew it was a trick of the devil.

He would wake from the nightmare, covered with sweat and shaking.

Cole moved in with his grandparents after the fire, moving back and forth between the two sets every time he wore out his welcome, which happened frequently after hitting his teens. He was in constant trouble as a youth, getting sent home from school most days when Cole bothered to go. Fighting was a favorite activity, mainly because he liked the challenge of taking on another person and finding out who was tougher.

He got whipped many times, but soon was tough and mean enough nobody in his school messed with him. Cole managed to slip through the cracks, climbing up the ladder until reaching senior high.

His life was headed down the wrong path. Cole would have gone on living that way, eventually getting into enough trouble to find a place to stay courtesy of the Oklahoma Department of Corrections.

But one day, the coach at his high school, Sal Justin, cornered him in the hallway and started talking to Cole, asking him to give sports a try. Cole wasn’t interested at first, but eventually gave it a shot, mainly to get the coach off his rear.

He turned out to be a good athlete, just as the coach expected. Cole was the best athlete in his class, although nobody knew it until he put on a football uniform.

Cole loved football from the start, enjoying the opportunity to hit somebody as hard as possible and not have the cops after him. It was even encouraged!

Coach Sal became the most important person in his life. He didn’t have to mess with Cole, none of the other teachers or coaches did. But he saw something in Cole, treating him the way he needed to be treated. Cole fought against it, but soon grew close to his coach, learning quickly that walking a straight line was the right way, at least when his coach was around or would find out about it.

He tested Coach Sal a few times, of course, and found out it was a mistake. The old man was sharp and it was impossible for Cole to pull anything over on him.

Coach Sal didn’t care what your name was or your background. He gave all the boys a chance, but if they did the crime, they did the time.

Cole got involved in sports as a sophomore. He wasn’t a model student or person, mainly getting by and staying out of trouble to keep Coach Sal off his back. All the while, Cole watched, listened and did what his coach told him to do.

He was good and his talents grew quickly. By the time he was a senior, Cole was good enough to lead Petros farther in the playoff than the school had ever been.

In basketball, Cole again led the Panthers into the playoffs and as the top pitcher in baseball, went undefeated and hit twenty homers, a school record at the time.

After graduating from high school, Cole started edging back toward his former ways. He had several offers to play ball but couldn’t picture himself as a college student. He had gotten by in high school, just putting out enough effort to pass. Cole was passing time during the summer after his senior year, working enough to have some spending money, but with no plans for the future and no cares.

When a friend asked him to go on a trip to Tahlequah to visit some friends going to school at Northeastern, Cole didn’t think anything about it. He was going to have fun, see the sights and that was it.

That was when he met her.

It was a small restaurant just off campus. They had gone there to eat after spending most of the day on the Illinois River, swimming, riding rafts and drinking enough beer to make sure Budweiser could pay a dividend to its stockholders that year.

They wanted to get some food before hitting the bars and adding more alcohol to a system already filled. Cole and three other guys had just sat down in a booth when he looked across the room and saw her. His eyes locked on her, simply the most beautiful thing Cole had ever seen.

Strangely enough, she looked back at him. Cole thought there had to be some mistake and tried looking away, but couldn’t. He was drawn to her, wanting to somehow get closer and maybe even talk with her. But for all of Cole’s talents, meeting girls weren’t one of them, at least girls who didn’t have a beer bottle in a hand.

He froze and sobered up completely. For once, he was speechless. His friends kept asking if something was wrong but Cole couldn’t say anything. He forced himself to look away, but his eyes returned to her and she looked back.

His friends finally figured out what was happening and asked if he wanted to meet her. One of the guys was in a class with her and knew her. Cole tried talking him out of it, fearing that talking to her would be more than he could handle.

Cole protested, begged and practically tried to hold his friend at the table, but the guy got up from the table, ignored the protests and walked across the room to where the girl and her friend were seated in a booth. Breathing became impossible as Cole watched his friend talk to the two girls and motion back toward his table. He asked if they would like to join them, loud enough for Cole to hear.

When she nodded, Cole felt like his head would explode. He wanted to go under the table and hide until the coast was clear. Cole saw the other girl wasn’t really crazy about joining them, but was talked into it.

It seemed to take forever for her to walk the short distance over to their table. Cole was as rigid as a statute, wondering what he should say and do. He still remembered how she looked, even to this day, like a picture imbedded in his brain.

She had long blonde hair put up in a ponytail. Her white tee-shirt had “Northeastern” written across the front. Her pants were a pair of cutoff blue jeans with the strands hanging down, along with tennis shoes and no socks.

The girl sat down across from him and Cole couldn’t keep from staring at her. He knew it was rude, but couldn’t quit. She said her name was Sharon Lee, a name Cole knew he would never forget. Her last name sounded familiar to Cole, but he couldn’t figure out why.

When they had ordered earlier, Cole was starving. But when the food arrived, his appetite had disappeared. One of Cole’s friends, the one who invited the girls over, hogged most of the conversation. Sharon talked little, a voice barely more than a whisper. After the meal was demolished, the others helped Cole clean his plate and they decided to do something together.

Cole’s friend suggested hitting the bars, which was the earlier plan. Sharon was not crazy about their idea.

“If that’s what you guys want to do, that’s is fine,” she had said. “We’re having a revival at church and that’s where I’m going. You’re more than welcome to join me if you like.”

She looked at Cole while saying that, wanting to see his reaction.

“Do you have to go to church?” her friend asked.

“No, I want to go,” Sharon answered.

Cole’s mood spiraled downward. He had only met her and wanted to spend time with her, not go to some bar and drink beer all night.

When it came time to leave, everybody started walking toward the door. Cole’s feet felt like he was moving in quicksand. As they made their way outside, all Cole thought about was how badly he didn’t want to be separated.

They split up, Sharon walking away by herself. With every step she took, the lump in his heart grew bigger. As Sharon got to her car, she suddenly stopped and turned around, looking back at him, a smile brightening her face as their eyes met.

“You want to go with me?” she asked.

He was nodding before she finished and started walking toward her, ignoring his friend’s protests.

For the rest of the night, Cole felt like he was walking on air. Sharon had to go home and change before they went to the church. He waited in her car, so nervous Cole was shivering despite the summer heat. When they pulled up in the parking lot of the church, Cole was caught completely off-guard. He had only been to church once or twice in his life and never seen a church like this.

It was huge, easily the biggest church he ever saw, a new building that seemed to cover an entire block with a parking lot full of cars and trucks.

At first, Cole was scared, wondering what he got himself into. The buzz from the afternoon was gone, but he knew the smell of beer was still on him. Cole was sure he didn’t belong here and wondered what the people would think if they knew of his past activities.

She sensed his discomfort and touched his hand.

“It’s okay,” she said.

And it was, after that.

He had never believed in love, especially love at first sight. But from that point on, Cole never doubted it existed. Cole Lester was hooked. When he found out Sharon was going to school at Northeastern, his feelings about college changed. But he had no idea how to pay for college. Nobody in his family had that kind of money and based on his behavior prior to coming to Tahlequah, Cole doubted anybody would help even if they could.

He spent several days with Sharon, seeing the sights during the day and going to church at night. Cole was convinced on what he wanted to do and after returning home, talked about it with Coach Sal.

Cole told his old coach what happened during his trip and that he wanted to go to Northeastern, but didn’t know how. Coach Sal was thrilled Cole wanted to continue his education, but advised him not to go to school just because of some girl.

After they talked for quite a while, Coach Sal came up with a possible solution for Cole to attend Northeastern. He remembered the coach at Northeastern had offered a football scholarship, but Cole turned it down.

Coach Sal was convinced the scholarship was taken, and wasn’t even sure if Cole wanted to play football. The coach at Northeastern was a friend, and Coach Sal offered to call the coach if Cole wanted to play.

Cole thought that was a great idea. He would do anything to go to Northeastern and spend time with Sharon, even if it meant going to school. Heck, he did like football and wouldn’t mind thumping a few guys again.

It took several days for Coach Sal to get back with Cole, who was on pins and needles the whole time waiting to hear. They met at the gym, Cole out of breath from running all the way to the gym.

“You got lucky,” Coach Sal stated. “One of their guys decided to go somewhere else and there’s a scholarship available.”

He said the coach wanted to meet Cole, but that Northeastern’s coach was also talking with another player about the remaining scholarship and it would probably come down to who wanted it the most. Coach Sal had scheduled a meeting the following day.

Cole was so nervous he barely slept that night. Coach Sal drove him to Tahlequah, the two-hour trip seeming to take forever. When they arrived, they found out the coach wasn’t at his office, but wanted to meet at his house.

It was a nice house in a better section of town. Something about the house seemed familiar, but Cole could not place it. After parking in the driveway, they got out of the car and walked to the front door. Cole had a strange feeling, wondering what caused it. As they stood on the porch, Coach Sal pushed the doorbell and Cole waited nervously, shifting back and forth on his feet.

When the door opened, he about gagged.

Standing in front of him, smiling back was Sharon. Cole couldn’t figure out why Sharon was at the Northeastern coach’s house, deciding she must be babysitting or cleaning it. Suddenly, it hit him. He figured out why her last name was familiar, along with the house. He had been here that one time when they stopped for her to change before going to church and Cole was too nervous to pay attention to the surroundings. The Lee name she shared also happened to be the last name for the Northeastern coach.

During a time filled with many surprises, this one took top honors.

In the time they spent together, Cole never met either of her parents.

Coach Sal introduced the two.

“We’ve met,” she responded, still smiling at Cole.

Coach Sal figured out how they had met and looked like a tennis ball was lodged in his throat. He knew then the girl Cole had fallen for was the coach’s daughter. Coach Sal doubted it was a good idea for Cole to be playing football for the coach and dating his daughter.

Coach Lee entered the room, easily the roughest-looking man Cole had ever seen. Cole wasn’t easily shaken and not the type to back down from a fight, but decided this was one man he never wanted to tangle with.

The Northeastern coach stood in the doorway, a huge hulk of a man, standing well over six-foot tall, his body one big muscle despite his age. He was the type of person who had gone through some rough times and thrived. Cole didn’t know many military types, but this man looked more like a lifetime Marine instead of a football coach. His face bore the scars of acne, his gray hair cut close to his scalp. He wore a white shirt that appeared to be tailored to his chiseled frame. A pair of green shorts stretched nearly to his knees, capped off by a pair of black socks that nearly made Cole laugh, so out of character with the man.

The coach stood there for some time, sizing up Cole, frowning at what he saw.

“You ain’t as big as I expected,” the coach bellowed, his use of grammar surprising Cole. This man was obviously no English teacher. “You sure you can play with my boys?”

The question stunned Cole. He had never seen a college game, didn’t know it would be different than a high-school game. Cole just knew he had never played anybody that couldn’t be brought down.

“Give me a chance,” Cole pleaded. “You won’t regret it.”

Coach Lee stood with his thick, hairy arms crossed, staring a hole through Cole. He rubbed his mouth, wiping away a little tobacco juice that had escaped to his chin.

“I’ll give you a chance, boy,” the coach finally stated. “But you best show up in the best shape of your life. If you make me regret this, I will kick your rear all the way back down to Petros.”

Cole moved to Tahlequah a couple of days later. He got a job with a construction company and worked all day, worked out for a few hours in the evening and then tried spending some time with Sharon.

They grew closer as time went by, both worried what her father would do when he found out about their budding relationship.

Practice started a month later. Cole had met a few of the other players but was stunned at how big the other guys were. He was one of the smallest players on the team, not that it bothered him. He just hit whoever and whatever came by him, quickly earning a reputation as one of the hardest hitters on the team.

Coach Lee played Cole at defensive back for most of the season, then moved him to quarterback toward the end of the year because of injuries. His only playing time that year was with the special teams. His teammates couldn’t believe the lack of fear on their teammate who stood maybe five-foot-nine, weighed less than one hundred sixty pounds, but acted like he was ten-foot tall and bullet proof.

But it was tearing up Cole and Sharon, keeping everything a secret from her family and sneaking around like they were doing something wrong. Cole finally had to tell Coach Lee he was seeing his daughter.

He found Coach Lee in his office, sitting at the desk with his feet up on the desk. A big chaw of tobacco in his left cheek and a spit cup in his left hand, nearly filled up. The bill of his hat was pulled low, making it hard to see those steely eyes.

He let loose a big wad of spit, never letting his gaze drop from Cole.

“I was a wondering when you’d tell me,” he responded. “I figure my little girl must see something in you that I don’t, son. But let me tell you something and you best not never forget it for one second…you ever mistreat my girl and you’ll be a dealing with me. I know you think you’re a tough guy, but I’d be your worst nightmare.”

Cole nodded, not wanting to have to deal with Coach Lee. He couldn’t even imagine treating Sharon bad, she was too good for him.

He had never been that good of a student and struggled with his college classes. Sharon helped him every night and slowly his grades started improving. She found out Cole was sharper than anybody knew, he just never had worked at school, always believing it was a waste of time.

Coach Lee was big on the grades and going to class so Cole knew that had to improve. Because of Sharon, it did.

During off-season and the summer, Cole hit the weights like a madman, mixing in agility drills to get quicker. Nobody else wanted to work out with him, knowing Cole was impossible to keep up with.

He was happy to get playing time, but didn’t want to just get on the field for special teams. Cole wanted to start somewhere and didn’t care what position.

For his sophomore year, Cole started out at defensive back, but was again shifted back to quarterback because the other quarterbacks had a tough time moving the offense.

He was playing behind all-state players, but it didn’t bother Cole. He started to gain ground on them, avoiding the other quarterbacks’ mistakes. He didn’t have a rocket for an arm like the other guys and his passes fluttered, but the coaches discovered the offense played better when Cole was taking the snaps.

It wasn’t because he was the best player, everybody knew that wasn’t the case. But Cole had that special something only a select few players possessed.

In the first game of the season, Cole was on the sideline, hating every moment of it. But with his team trailing in the second half and the offense faltering, Coach Lee sent him in.

Cole promptly led his team down the field, getting his team in the end zone on a short pass to the tight end. Northeastern eventually came from behind to win the game and never stopped, going undefeated for the first time.

Northeastern won two playoff games and made it to the national championship game, playing a school which had won the last two national championships and was favored to slaughter the Redmen.

But the game didn’t go as planned. Cole and his teammates dominated the first half, actually leading by ten points late in the second quarter. With less than a minute left before halftime, Cole rolled out to his right, with the option of throwing or running. It was a play he and his team had run hundreds of times.

When he planted his right foot to cut upfield, his body went one way and his leg the other. Nobody had touched him.

It was the worst knee injury the team doctor had ever seen, the ligaments torn beyond repair. The doctor only hoped Cole would eventually walk without the aid of a crutch. Playing again was out of the question.

Northeastern wound up losing the game, falling apart in the second half without Cole.

He was in the hospital over two weeks, getting visits every day from Sharon, usually followed shortly by Coach Lee, who never missed a day. The day his coach cried after finding out Cole couldn’t play anymore was one that shattered his perception of the old man.

Cole hated the thought of not playing anymore and would have headed home if it wasn’t for Sharon and Coach Lee.

He was lost, having no idea what to do when Coach Lee said a few words that changed his life.

“I’d like you to stay with the program,” Coach Lee requested, sitting down in the only chair in the hospital room. He had his spit cup with him, along with his chaw of tobacco. “You’re probably the best leader I’ve ever coached and I think you’d be a heckuva coach if that’s what you’d like to do.”

Cole thought about it for the rest of his stay in the hospital. He had learned to love football in the last two years, never realizing how badly he would miss it.

Coach Lee kept him on scholarship for the next two years. Cole spent most of the time with the coaches, especially the head coach.

By his senior year, the other coaches asked him for input, realizing Cole saw things other coaches missed. He was a natural. Coach Lee was the first to realize this, but the other coaches were in agreement.

Cole continued seeing Sharon as much as possible. By the end of his sophomore year, Cole weaned himself off her for help with his grades, determined to make it on his own.

He made straight “A’s” the final two years of college. Aside from getting his diploma, the biggest moment in his college years came while he was still a sophomore, recovering from his knee injury.

Cole had become a regular at church, at first because it was a chance to be with Sharon. After a while, though, he spent time with her elsewhere, but kept going to church.

He started reading the Bible every night. It was a gift from Sharon shortly after they met. Cole started out reading for a few minutes, then added more time, discovering that reading before going to bed gave him a sense of peace.

Two weeks after he finished reading the Bible for the first time, there was a revival at his church. The evangelist was a preacher from Louisiana with enough energy to light up a room without needing any help from the electric company.

Everything the evangelist said that evening hit home. Cole had felt bad about some of the things he did over the years. He believed what was in the Bible, but didn’t feel like his relationship with God was what it should be.

He read the Bible and attended church every time the doors were open. Cole had also started praying, but something wasn’t right. He had seen many altar calls during the past couple of years, but never felt the urge to go forward.

But that night, Cole knew it was time to visit the altar.

As soon as he was saved, Cole felt like a new person, knowing his sins were taken away. There was such a peace from knowing Heaven was his final destination and he vowed to never return to the darkness.

Chapter 13

Chapter 11

The Panthers started working on the wishbone the following day. Gary was at quarterback, but Lucky got more reps than usual. Happy was at fullback with Skip and D.J. at halfback.

That gave Petros three sophomores in the backfield, a scary thought to Cole. He taught the basic plays, the dives and blasts up the middle. It was fairly simple and the offense picked it up fairly quick.

Lucky knew the Panthers would use the wishbone from talking with his father. Like Cole, Lucky loved the offense and could not understand why only a few teams still used it.

He thought the only negative to the offense was it failed to stretch out the defense. When he said that to his father, Cole started thinking about ways to counter that and have an effective way to throw the ball.

There were some passing plays available in all the formations, of course, but it was something he needed to think about.

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Saturday finally arrived, a day the team had been looking forward to all week. It was finally another chance to hit somebody wearing a different uniform and using different plays and formations.

The players arrived on time, got taped and dressed for the short drive to Hon. Even though it was just a scrimmage, there was a nervousness in the air.

The players were quieter than usual, changing and getting their equipment ready. The coaches could not sit still either, pacing back and forth, trying to shake off the nervous energy.

All the equipment was loaded on a trailer and the guys climbed on the school’s activity buses. The buses were painted black and white instead of the usual yellow and black.

They were basically old Greyhound buses that had been modified. They were much more comfortable than a school bus, giving the players more room.

As Cole settled down in his usual seat, Ichabod sat opposite him. Cole decided that when he did quit coaching, one thing he would not miss was riding in buses.

Most of the players had been to Hon before and were prepared. For the ones making their first trip, it left them more than a little awestruck when they arrived at the field.

The home of the Hon Hornets was the nicest football field any of the players had seen for a high school. Only two years old, everything still looked new, no paint chipping or scoreboard with lights burned out. It was simply an awesome stadium.

The field itself was just as impressive. The turf was almost like the putting surface on the greens of a golf course.

The Panthers finished getting dressed and were preparing to take the field when Hon’s players started jogging out on the field, wearing their bright green helmets, jerseys and pants. Like the field, the uniforms appeared new also.

As the Petros players watched, the line of Hon players kept coming, seeming to never end.

“Dadgum,” Stub remarked, watching the final players pass by. “How many do they have?”

“I got ninety,” Ichabod mentioned.

“Shoot, that’s a lotta players. We could take every boy in high school back at Petros and still not have that many.”

“They can only play eleven at a time,” Cole reminded.

“Yeah, but after watching those guys, I imagine it takes them a little longer to get dressed than it does our players.”

Cole looked up at the corner of the stands and saw coaches from several schools on Petros’ schedule gathered together, swapping stories and rumors, armed with their trusty notebooks. Conser’s coaches were the first to arrive, surprising Cole.

He didn’t expect them to worry about scouting Petros, after not doing it the previous year. Cole planned on making their trip a waste, not showing anything new.

The main thing he wanted his team to do was play football the right way. He wanted to see his guys block and tackle like they were taught. It would be nice to run up and down the field, scoring touchdowns at will, but knew that probably wouldn’t happen against Hon.

The Hornets were too good.

It would be a boring scrimmage. No trick plays, blitzes or anything out of the ordinary. If the other coaches wanted to see Petros do those things, they had to wait for the season to start.

The Panthers wore their white helmets, jerseys and pants. The numbers had not been put on the sides of the players’ helmets as the coaches were waiting until the first game to do that. The players wore their practice pants and old jerseys with different numbers than they wore in games.

None of Petros’ players were concerned with how many players Hon had or how big the Hornets were. The Panthers were used to playing bigger schools and players. The only thing that impressed them was Hon’s stadium and the field.

“Feel this grass,” Happy told Lucky as they stretched. “It feels like a pooting surface.”

“Don’t you mean ‘putting’?” asked D.J.

“Whatever, I wasn’t talking to you anyway.”

Even though it was only a scrimmage, Petros’ fans had crossed the state line in droves and filled the stands on the visitor’s side of the field.

After the warm-ups, Petros had the ball first. Hon took the field, acting like it was fixing to play in the Super Bowl. The Hornets jumped up and down, hollered and pounded each other’s shoulder pads.

“Kinda excited,” Stub commented

“After we knock them on their rears they won’t be so perky,” Derwin stated.

As Cole expected, the Hornets stacked the line just like they did every year, knowing the Panthers weren’t going to pass. It made their defense look better as the Hornets could brag about shutting down Petros’ offense, but Cole knew if this was a real game Petros would loosen up that defense and make them pay for playing this way.

He also knew Hon’s defense would blitz every play.

Gary noticed it while walking up to the line for the first play. He turned around to look at Cole for direction. The Panthers had a dive play called, not the best play to run when a blitz was coming, but one Gary didn’t need to change.

“Run the play,” Cole muttered.

Every year he got irritated at Hon’s coaches and vowed not to scrimmage the Hornets again as most coaches didn’t blitz or stunt in scrimmages. But he changed his mind later, knowing this was good for the players and fans since it was a close trip and the Panthers would see this style of defense in the season.

Gary nodded and took the snap, handing the ball off on a straight drive to Skip, who hit the hole like a blur and picked up five yards. The line had blocked it perfectly, giving Skip a good crease to hit.

The Panthers ran the same play to the opposite site with Derwin bulling ahead for three yards. That left Petros facing third and short, the way Cole liked to see his offense operate.

Skip got the handoff on third down, easily picking up the first down. Cole kept calling dives to both sides, planning to ride that play until the Hornets stopped it. As the drive continued, some of the steam left the Hornets. They stopped jumping up and down and yelling encouragement like earlier. That enthusiasm was quickly replaced by frustration over the inability to stop the drive.

It was set up perfectly. After running so many dives, the play should work like a charm. Cole relayed the call to Gary, a simple play where he would fake the dive to Skip, then follow behind with the ball. With the defense so keyed on the running backs, Gary should have a good hole.

The play worked just as it was set up. Gary slipped in behind Skip and broke free, nobody within five yards of him. As he started to veer to the outside, the ball tumbled out of his grasp even though nobody touched him. Gary stopped quickly and dove for the ball, but one of Hon’s linebackers already fell on it.

Cole was a little hot. His offense was based on not making mistakes like turnovers or penalties. He stressed that constantly. His offense couldn’t succeed with those types of mistakes. After seeing so many last year, Cole wasn’t going to go through that again.

He was still chapped about the turnover as Hon came out in a spread offense, receivers all over the field. The Hornets started passing on the first play and never quit. They threw on every play except for three runs.

Petros wasn’t prepared for this type of offense as the Panthers hadn’t practiced against it. The players responded fairly well, pressuring the quarterback and sacking him twice even without running any blitzes.

Hon’s threat ended when Gary made up for his earlier mistake by intercepting a pass in the end zone.

In the second series, D.J. replaced Derwin at running back. As soon as the move took place, the offense looked even sharper. The Panthers drove down the field, capping it with an eleven-yard touchdown run by Skip, the only score in the scrimmage for the starters.

The reserves took over a little later. Petros’ reserves looked just as good or better. The Panthers nearly scored twice, coming up a little short. Hon’s spread offense confused the Panthers but Lucky and his sidekicks stopped both drives, the first ending when Art Miller made a diving interception.

Andy helped end the second drive, beating a tackle, flying in and splattering the quarterback, causing a fumble the Panthers pounced upon.

After the scrimmage ended, Cole gathered all the players around him. He was pleased with the scrimmage and made sure the players knew it. Cole pointed out they had just played a huge school that was expected to make the playoffs and dominated.

There were some mistakes, as could be expected, but nothing that couldn’t be corrected.

As he walked to the bus, Lucky was a little disappointed. He was not used to watching games from the sidelines and didn’t care for it. Lucky had been thinking about it since the start of practice, trying to reason that it was only because he was a sophomore and playing time would come, but not quick enough.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around, surprised to see Gabby walking beside him, matching his stride. She had on a white hat with OSU’s logo on the front, a light blue sleeveless blouse, white shorts and a pair of sandals. Her hair was in a ponytail, sticking out the hole in the back of her hat.

“Good game,” she stated. “You keep playing like that and you won’t be on the sideline long.”

She smiled one last time, scurrying away toward where D.J. was walking toward them. Lucky was surprised, almost like Gabby had read his thoughts. He knew that wasn’t possible, but sure seemed like it happened.

As he climbed the steps to the bus, his mood changed and a smile replaced the frown.

Chapter 12

Chapter 10

Practice the following week continued to get tougher in preparation for the start of the season. The Panthers had another scrimmage on Saturday night against Hon, another Arkansas school. But they spent most of the practice working on fundamentals and preparing for the opener the following week against Conser.

After his performance in the Bates scrimmage, D.J. got more snaps with the first team, forming a tandem with Skip that had the potential to be outstanding.

Derwin saw less action as the other running backs, not that it bothered him. He liked running the ball but preferred defense. He was also smart enough to realize D.J. was a better back. And whatever was best for his team was good with him.

The hitting in practice was intense, pleasing the coaches. Ichabod was pretty much set on his starting eleven. He still considered moving Lucky and D.J. into the secondary but knew Cole was not crazy about that idea.

Lucky tried to avoid Gabby all week. But everywhere he went or turned, she was there, usually with D.J. He was nice to her, but really just wanted to stay away.

She spent a lot of time with D.J. and it looked like they were now a couple. Each time Lucky saw them, it made him feel like he had swallowed his Adam’s apple.

In the past, D.J., Happy and Lucky got together and spent at least one night playing Monopoly or video games. Andy was invited to join in and played his first game, getting trounced badly, along with D.J. and Lucky.

Happy was the winner in Monopoly, as usual. He liked playing Monopoly almost as much as lifting weights, actually studying strategy and reading everything possible about the game. Nobody had a chance that night. Happy’s strategy was sound and the game was clinched before it was halfway over.

They played at D.J.’s house because he had a game room and his parents were away, so they could laugh and make noise without bothering anybody. The only thing that interrupted the game was two phone calls that caused D.J. to retreat into the other room. Nobody asked or probably even cared who was calling, but Lucky had a good idea who called.

---------------------

Just like the boys, Petros’ coaches spent at least one night together every week, talking about the game, the team and whatever else came up. They had done it for years and since none of them were married or had any prospects lined up, it was something they would probably continue.

They met in their office, took the phone off the hook and closed the curtain. They brought a few snacks and while this could technically be considered work, nobody really looked at it that way as it was too much fun to be considered part of their job.

The three men sat around a table, looking to see what goodies the other coaches brought. Stub and Cole stared at something Ichabod had prepared. It looked like nothing they had ever seen. Ichabod was a terrible cook and seemed to have topped himself with this dish. Stub always said he would be skinny too if his cooking was as bad as Ichabod’s.

Even Ichabod usually wound up skipping his contribution, realizing something had gone terribly wrong. Not that it kept him from trying. Ichabod studied cookbooks and tried to follow the directions, but usually wound up with a disaster.

“Ichabod, what the heck is this?” Stub finally asked.

It was green with what appeared to be tomatoes and lettuce on top.

“It’s a casserole,” Ichabod proudly announced.

“You trying to poison us so you can take over?”

“Of course not.”

“It looks like something my cat throws up,” Stub added, an image that failed to make the food look better.

“You don’t have to eat it,” Ichabod commented, insulted again by Stub’s critique.

“That’s good. I don’t think I could.”

Cole mixed in a little bit of everything on his paper plate, even some of Ichabod’s casserole. He did not want to touch that slop either, but his first bite was of the casserole, since Ichabod was staring at him.

It was one of the most disgusting things Cole ever put in his mouth. His taste buds protested immediately. He hoped his face was not showing how terrible it tasted.

“How is it?” Ichabod asked, leaning forward in his chair and staring at Cole with a hopeful look on his face.

“It’s uh, not all that bad,” Cole answered.

Stub was not as kind, of course. He took a bite and immediately spit it in the trashcan. He wiped away any remaining residue from his lips, shaking his head while glaring at Ichabod.

“Ichabod, you’ve really topped yourself this time,” he commented.

“What do you mean?” Ichabod asked.

“This has got to be the most disgusting thing you’ve ever made.”

Ichabod’s shoulders slumped and his face registered the pain. He enjoyed cooking and always wanted to be a chef. He tried so hard to make meals his friends would enjoy. But it always seemed something went wrong and the meal was a disaster.

It could not be that bad, Ichabod tried convincing himself. He knew Cole had not liked it either, just did not say anything to keep from hurting his feelings. Ichabod summoned his courage and took a bite. It was all he could do to swallow and required even more effort to keep it from coming back up. Sadly, it was that bad.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “It is bad.”

Stub and Cole laughed over Ichabod’s reaction as they added other foods to their plate.

They finished building their plates and got something to drink. Then, they attacked the food.

“You guys ready?” Cole asked, as he grabbed the remote and turned on the television.

Stub and Ichabod looked longingly at the remote in Cole’s hand, wishing they had it. It was the classic case of remote envy, a disease running rampant whenever adult males gathered together and somebody else had control of the remote.

Nobody else had the touch or timing, of course, to know when to switch from one channel to the next when it got boring or a commercial came on.

Cole put on a tape of Conser, the Panthers’ opponent in the first game the following week. They were familiar with Conser since the two schools had played each other to open the season for the last ten years. It was typical of Cole’s early schedule. Conser was tough, a team as good as any team the Panthers would play aside from Hodgen.

Petros only won two out of the ten games. The games were usually fairly close before Conser pulled it out in the last half.

Cole knew this would be a typical year for the Cowboys, only this team had the potential to be better. Conser went to the state semifinals in Class 3A the previous year. The only preseason ranking Cole had seen listed Conser as third in Class 3A.

Petros was not ranked in Class 2A, an omission that did not surprise Cole, but did bother him.

Since most of Conser’s players were back from the previous year, they were watching film of last year’s 27-6 win over the Panthers.

It had been a sign of things to come for the Panthers, a game that was not even as close as the final score indicated. That game had started Petros on a tailspin the Panthers never recovered from.

Cole knew the Cowboys would be better this year. But he knew his team should be better, also.

While watching the film, Cole remembered how Conser dominated the line on both sides, opening huge holes on offense and stuffing the Panthers with its defense. Petros did not have the size or speed to compete last year.

Cole hoped it was different this time.

“You guys think D.J.’s ready to start at running back?” Cole asked.

“Yes,” Ichabod answered.

“Without a doubt,” Stub stated. “You put him and Skip back there and that’s the best set of running backs we’ve had in a long time.”

“I’m not sure if we’ll start him but he’ll play a lot so don’t wear him out on defense,” Cole directed, looking at Ichabod.

“Yeah, that will make us better,” Stub commented. “Now just as soon as we get Lucky in at quarterback…”

“Gary’s our quarterback,” Cole interrupted. “He won’t lose any games for us.”

“But he won’t win any either,” Ichabod pointed out.

“That may be true,” Cole admitted. “But Gary’s worked harder than anybody else and deserves to start. If he can’t do the job, then we’ll make a change.”

“I’d just be worried that we’ll be a little light in the backfield,” Stub mentioned. “Both those guys we’ll have at running back are pretty small and we might have a tough time on short yardage plays.”

“I was thinking about that earlier,” Cole responded. “We might just load up back there.”

Ichabod and Stub smiled. They knew what Cole meant by “load up”. He wanted to put another running back in the backfield between the two split backs and run some plays out of the old T-formation. They also knew a part of him would love to run that offense all the time.

“We’re gonna go with the ‘T’ on short yardage?” Stub asked.

“Either that or the bone,” Cole answered, referring to the wishbone offense that was so popular back in the 70’s. It was an offense Cole always loved but never used because his teams never had the right personnel.

Cole knew Derwin or Happy could play fullback in the wishbone and they would have the right personnel to play the offense. Except at one position, they both thought.

“Gary can’t play quarterback in the bone,” Stub injected. “He’s not quick enough to get to the corners.”

“I realize that,” Cole agreed. “We’re going to start working on it for district play.”

“What about the first three games?” Ichabod asked.

“We’ll go with the split back until then,” Cole directed. “On short-yardage plays we’ll put Derwin or Happy in. Maybe both.”

They continued watching film, but did not get too involved with it. They knew Conser’s personnel well, almost like it was their own.

“I wish you’d quit scheduling teams like this,” Stub blurted out. “We’re playing the three biggest schools around here and it always makes us start out with a bad record.”

Chapter 11

Chapter 9

The next morning, the Panthers practiced at six, barely getting through and having enough night to shower and stop by the cafeteria for something to eat before the first bell rang. It had already been a long day and now the players had to get through the first day of school and then another practice.

Andy had gone with Lucky to church the night before and seemed to enjoy it. After the service ended, they went to the Sonic with Happy and D.J. to get an ice cream. All summer, they had gone to one of their houses to play games and hang out, but knew that wasn’t possible with practice so early in the morning and then school.

The students had just gotten out of an orientation session as Lucky walked down the hall, looking at his schedule. The first class was English. Lucky saw Gabby coming toward him. She was dressed nice today, wearing a pair of light blue shorts, a white shirt and sandals. She looked nothing like the girl who played basketball with him the day before.

Lucky headed toward her, since she seemed a little lost.

“Hey,” he said.

“Uh, hi,” Gabby answered, looking down at a piece of paper in her hand. It was the class schedule and at the moment, she was clueless.

“Do you know where Miss Lay’s English class is?” she asked.

“That’s where I’m headed,” he replied. “I’ll show you.”

The hall was filled with students rushing every which way. The hallways were always a madhouse, made worse by the confusion surrounding the first day of school. Lucky always thought it looked like a human version of an ant farm with everybody scurrying around.

“Are you excited?” Lucky asked.

“About seeing you?” Gabby remarked, smiling at him.

“Uh, no, about school starting.”

“Yes,” Gabby answered, wishing she hadn’t said that about seeing him. He didn’t seem to know how to take her. Gabby brushed her hair out of her face and started walking alongside Lucky. “More nervous than excited.”

They continued down the hall, avoiding students running in the opposite direction.

“Here it is,” Lucky commented, pointing into a classroom. He opened the door, allowing her to walk in first.

“Thanks,” Gabby said, touched his arm for just a second then pulled her hand back like she had touched a fire. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Lucky asked, it certainly didn’t bother him.

She just shook her head and looked around the room. It was the usual classroom with the desks all lined up in rows facing the teacher’s desk. A chalkboard was on the wall in front of the class with windows lining the far wall. Everything seemed clean and in order, although it would not last long.

“Where do we sit?” she asked.

“Wherever you want,” he answered. “The seats usually don’t get assigned until somebody starts acting up.”

D.J. was sitting in the front seat on the aisle next to the windows. He opened his backpack and pulled out a notebook as they walked in that direction.

She moved close to Lucky, following behind.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” she asked.

“Nope,” Lucky answered. “Let me introduce you to one of my best friends.”

D.J. watched them walk toward him, his eyes glued on Gabby.

“This is Andy’s sister, Gabby,” Lucky announced. D.J. was staring intently at her, acting like Lucky was not even in the room. “Gabby, this is one of my best friend’s, D.J.”

He sat down directly across from D.J. Gabby sat in a chair behind Lucky and started going through her backpack, trying to find a notebook.

They got through the first class without any trouble. Lucky had two more classes with Gabby and was in every class with D.J. Happy was not quite as advanced as a student and only saw his friends at lunch and during football practice.

Since they would practice again at night, the Panthers used the usual practice time to lift weights, hitting them just as hard as if it was off-season.

Cole had seen a lot of teams start the season strong but weaken during the year, suffering through injuries in the latter part of the season, mainly because they quit lifting weights. The injuries and lack of strength contributed to losses the teams should not have suffered. Petros had avoided that for the most part because they never stopped lifting weights, at least in their coach’s opinion.

Practices for the rest of the week were not what Cole expected or hoped to see.

The Panthers spent a lot of time on blocking and tacking drills. These were Cole’s two biggest keys to winning a game.

He always thought it was possible for a team to win a game even if it did not have the best talent, provided they blocked and tackled better than the other team. There were a lot of other things to figure in, but he knew the team that did those two things the best usually won. That was why he put such emphasis on it. He knew his guys were smaller than most of the opponents and for them to succeed, they had to be more fundamentally sound.

The defense continued to look good. In the two positions open, Ichabod started using D.J. and Lucky more, letting them get used to playing with the Blackshirts.

The offense was the big problem, not advancing nearly as fast as the coaches hoped or expected. Partly because the defense they practiced against every day was good, but mainly because they just weren’t playing good.

Prior to opening the season, Petros had two scrimmages lined up. Both scrimmages were against larger schools from Arkansas.

The first scrimmage was at home Friday night against Bates, a town just across the border. Bates was a power every year. Usually, the Panthers had trouble competing against the Bulldogs, but Cole liked to scrimmage them because it helped get the players ready for the season.

The Bulldogs always had a huge team, but one that was not all that quick. Because of Petros’ defense, neither team usually scored much. Bates moved the ball while the Panthers usually went backwards.

As the scrimmage started Friday evening, there was a huge crowd even though the temperatures were in triple digits.

Cole saw a few things that would work against the Bulldogs if it was a real game but didn’t use it, not wanting to show the scouts from other schools any more than the basics.

Toward the end of the scrimmage, Bates finally scored on its last possession, punching it in on a short run. Petros had the ball one more time but had trouble moving the ball against the huge defense.

The coaches sent in the reserves. Petros got the ball first. The Panthers’ fans had been waiting all night for something to get excited about. There had been a couple of good hits and good defensive play, but the offense had done nothing.

D.J. changed that on the first play. He took a handoff from Lucky on a simple dive play over the left side. He broke free from a linebacker, raced past the secondary and outran everybody into the end zone, scoring easily.

Some of the crowd had left after the starters called it a night but the remaining fans on Petros’ side showed some excitement.

The Panthers stopped the ensuing drive from the Bulldogs and got the ball back. This time, it took two plays to make something happen.

On first down, Happy surged forward for five years. On the second play, Lucky took the snap, faked the dive to Happy, cut inside the defensive end and juked the safety so bad his feet got all tangled up, causing him to fall to the ground. Lucky was in the open, looking for the other safety. The safety finally arrived, grabbing hold of Lucky’s shoulder pads.

Just as Lucky started down, he pitched the ball back to his side and back. D.J. was right where he should be and grabbed the pitch, never having to break stride. He was in the open and gone, scoring easily.

Bates’ reserves had the ball one last time. Andy got his first chance to play defensive end and flew by the tackle, tossed the fullback aside and sacked the quarterback on the last play. As he rose, Andy had a look on his face like “how did I do that?”

His teammates congratulated him. The coaches were still not sure of his best position on defense and were experimenting with several different positions.

As the scrimmage ended, most of the starters came out and congratulated the reserves. Aside from some good play by the defense, the two touchdowns were really the only highlights.

Back in the locker room, Lucky was pulling off his shoulder pads when he was slammed from behind. He did not see anything coming so there was no way to be prepared. The collision was hard enough he got a big jolt from the locker.

Even before he removed his pads, Lucky had a pretty good idea who and what caused this. His assumption was correct as Garrett Long walked past, laughing at what he just did.

He started on both sides of the line as a defensive tackle and offensive tackle, one of the Panthers’ best players. For some reason, Garrett always disliked Lucky, even when they were in elementary school. It had been going on for years and most of the time Lucky did not pay any attention.

Ever since practice started, Garrett had been dishing out cheap shots in practice to Lucky and the other sophomores. The only younger player he avoided was Happy, as Garrett tried it once, but paid for it as Happy delivered a hit back that caused Garrett’s neck to snap back, giving him a crick that took two days to go away.

“Don’t get too excited, boy,” Garrett stated, standing with his chest thrown out while glaring at Lucky. “Yeah, you boys scored a couple of touchdowns but it was against their scrubs.”

Lucky stared back at Garrett, not wanting to say anything to make the situation worse, but prepared to strike back if necessary.

He watched Garrett slowly turn and walk to his locker. Garrett was not liked by many of his teammates, but usually did not act this way if any coaches or teammates were nearby.

Lucky put away the rest of his equipment and hurried outside, hoping to catch one of his friends and see if they wanted to do something. As he walked into the parking lot, he crossed between two trucks and saw D.J. leaning against one truck, a girl standing close by. D.J. had his hand on her back, and she moved closer. Lucky wondered who D.J. was with. He moved a little closer as D.J. looked at him and nodded. The girl turned around and Lucky stopped in his tracks.

His heart skipped a couple of beats and it felt like somebody hit him in the stomach. Garrett’s hit in the locker room did not have near the intensity this did. When he realized D.J. was with Gabby and they were holding hands, Lucky wanted to melt away.

Lucky did not know why it bothered him, just knew he had to get out of there fast.

He waved at them and started walking away.

“Good game,” Gabby shouted, smiling at him.

Lucky stopped for a second, thinking of thousands of other places he would rather be.

“Thanks,” he answered.

“Want to go get something to eat?” D.J. asked.

“Naw,” Lucky remarked. “I’m kind of tired. I think I’ll just go home and go to bed.”

Lucky walked off, got halfway across the parking lot and started jogging. He gradually picked up speed, sprinting by the time his feet hit the road.

He kept running all the way home, never slowing until he reached the garage. Lucky slipped inside the garage and turned on the outside lights, grabbed his basketball, went back outside and started shooting.

This was his oasis, the good spot for him. Just him, a basketball and a goal. No worries or problems allowed here. When anything bothered him, Lucky retreated to his basketball court, his mind emptying all troubles. He thought clearly here and figured out what was wrong, with the bouncing of the ball and the swishing of the net serving as a calming influence.

Lucky played little games, seeing how many shots he hit in a row or imagine it was the final seconds of a game and the Panthers needed a basket to win the game. He usually made the basket as the imaginary crowd roared, but if the shot missed, Lucky grabbed the rebound and hit the second shot. He also practiced moves or shots until they were mastered.

He was still shooting when his father came home. Cole saw the lights a block away and his son gliding through the night toward the rim. He pulled in the driveway and parked his old truck.

When he got out, Cole was carrying a pair of water bottles. He had been working on one during the drive home, the other one was full.

He sat down on the porch, thankful there were not many neighbors nearby and the ones who lived close did not hear that great. Most people probably would not be too happy hearing a basketball thumping away this time of the night, but the neighbors either did not hear it, worry about it or were used to it.

Cole took a big hit off the water bottle, his mouth so dry it felt like there was a cotton ball inside. He knew it was not that good of an idea to drink so much this late at night, as he would have to make several pit stops later on. But Cole was hot, thirsty and knew his body needed the fluids.

He knew Lucky was aware of his presence, but his son was so focused his routine did not change.

Lucky would grab the ball, dribble to a certain spot and shoot. He then retrieved the ball and repeated the action.

He was drenched in sweat. Lucky had always been in good shape, but now was stronger, faster and could go longer than ever.

Cole looked down at his watch and saw it was almost eleven. He was glad none of the neighbors were disturbed by his son, but knew this was pushing it by having the lights on and playing ball this late.

Lucky sank one last jumper from behind the free-throw line and called it a night. He put the basketball back in the garage, noticing it was getting slick from use and that it was time to be replaced. Lucky turned the lights off, closed the garage door and walked over to sit by his father.

Cole handed his son the extra water bottle. He waited a minute to see if Lucky wanted to talk about what was bothering him, but his son declined to open up, as usual.

“You guys played good tonight,” Cole stated.

“Thanks,” Lucky answered, taking a long drink of the water. His hair was matted down with sweat and drops were running down his face. “I was surprised we were able to move the ball so easy. I expected their second team to be tough, just like the starters. The guys we played were as big as the starters.”

“Yeah, but they were really slow. Big, but awfully slow. If Bates doesn’t do something about that in a year or two they’ll really struggle.”

“You think they’ll be good this year?”

“Not as good as they’ve been in the past. They’ll probably break even. That’s a tough league they’re in over there.”

“You ever wish you’d taken that job?”

Cole watched as his son finished the water bottle. He had just about forgotten about that. Six years ago, the superintendent of Bates tried to get Cole to take the head coaching job for football. Cole was tempted, but did not feel the program was what he was looking for at that time.

He knew because Bates was a bigger town, there were more things for the kids to do and the players were not as committed as they were in Petros. Because of the Panthers’ tradition, the kids here lived for sports and there was more unity.

“Bigger’s not always better,” Cole pointed out. “You okay?”

He knew something was bothering Lucky to keep him away from his friends on a Friday night and have him shooting basketballs alone late at night.

“Naw, I’m fine,” Lucky countered, which both knew was not the truth. “I just wanted to shoot some.”

There were hundreds of things he wanted to ask his father but did not know how to do it. He had all these funny feelings and emotions for the first time and did not know why or how to handle it.

“I’m gonna watch the film of the scrimmage,” his father mentioned. “You up to it?”

Lucky brightened a little bit. He and Cole had spent hundreds of hours together, pouring over game film, scouting opponents and watching tape of Petros’ games, looking for weaknesses or ways for the team to improve.

From watching so much film, Lucky could give a very good scouting report on an opponent and figure out a team’s strengths and weaknesses as well as most coaches.

They walked inside and Cole put the tape in and turned the television on, waiting until Lucky got through popping some popcorn in the microwave and getting something to drink before starting it. After Lucky came into the room with a bowl of popcorn for each of them and handed his father a glass of water, Cole hit the play button on the tape and they started watching the tape with the lights dimmed. Lucky sat down on the couch with his long legs stretched out so his feet rested on the coffee table. He had dropped his shirt in the laundry room and had a towel over his shoulders, wearing only a pair of shorts. Lucky put his shoes next to the table, the sweaty socks placed inside.

The ceiling fan was going full blast, sending cool air down on his bare feet. He put the towel over his head and took a long drink before attacking the popcorn. Cole was in his recliner, the remote in his hands.

They watched the film about halfway through, until the popcorn was gone. Neither one knew who went out first, but soon they were both sleeping, letting the tape run until it ended.

Chapter 10

Chapter 8

Pastor Sam Furman was smiling as he waited for church to start the following morning. He was sitting in a small pew watching everybody file into church and greet each other. Most of the men in the congregation were talking about last night’s scrimmage.

He knew the noise would quieten down in a few minutes as the service started.

Pastor Furman was in his third year at Petros. He knew nothing about football then and still did not understand everything, but was trying to learn.

His high school didn’t have a football team. Baseball was king in the small town of Gotebo where he was raised. The community college he attended was also too small to have a football team. Before moving to Petros, the pastor could not understand why two groups of boys enjoyed pounding into each other.

Pastor Furman always thought the boys could find something much better to do with their time than play football, until he got caught up in the excitement.

Since arriving in Petros, Pastor Furman had been to every game, both home and away. He and his wife, Sister Alice, arrived early and visited with everybody they could. It surprised him how many people came to his church after meeting him at a game. It was a little different, but football games were a great place to witness.

They were welcomed into the community with open arms and enjoyed their new home. As Pastor Furman looked around, he saw the three coaches sitting together, chatting with several members of the congregation.

Sister Alice hit the first key on the piano and everybody quieted down and made their way to their pew. The back door flew open and the choir entered the sanctuary, dressed in white robes with a green sash, singing and clapping as they made their way to their seats.

The youth stood and clapped, singing the parts of the song they knew.

Pastor Furman stood and clapped and sang, glad the congregation made enough noise to drain him out. The Good Lord had blessed him greatly in many areas, but having a beautiful singing voice was not one of them.

He loved the spirit that came over the church with the music playing and the people singing and clapping. Sister Alice had a beautiful voice, unlike her husband, talented enough she could have made a living from her music.

His message that morning was on the importance of keeping the faith. It was a subject he loved to preach about, one of the most important topics in the Bible as far as Pastor Furman was concerned. With faith, all things were possible. But for a person without faith, Pastor Furman believed that person would have a life truly empty of all the great things God has available.

At the end of the service, he issued an invitation. Pastor Furman had not planned to do this, but was glad he did as two high school students came forward and were saved.

Cole waited for the crowd to thin out and stood by the front door, waiting for the pastor and his wife to finish talking to the others. Cole hugged them both.

“That was a good service,” Cole told them.

“Thank you, Coach Cole,” Pastor Furman responded. They fell in walking beside each other as they headed down the hallway to the pastor’s study.

It had become a tradition. Cole, the pastor and Sister Alice would eat together after the Sunday morning service, usually at Mazzio’s, along with what seemed like half the town. It was a popular pizza place, usually with plenty of seating, except after church. On Sundays, there was usually a line stretching outside, waiting for one of the tables. Sometimes, they went to Western Sizzlin’ in Hodgen, if their stomach preferred some beef instead of pizza.

Pastor Furman was rather fond of the eight-ounce sirloin at the Sizzler and if there was one in Petros, that would be his choice every week.

Sister Alice’s mother was visiting so they were going to Fort Smith to supposedly see the sites, but Pastor Furman believed the trip was more than that.

“I expect they will eventually find their way to the mall,” he suggested.

Pastor Furman put his well-worn Bible on his desk and followed Cole out the door. The two men climbed in Cole’s old truck and headed out.

Lucky usually joined in, but was going to Andy’s house to ask him to come to the evening service.

Cole drove the short distance to Mazzio’s. Just like every Sunday, the parking lot was full. But from past experience, they knew the crowd thinned out fairly quickly. The other churches always got out earlier and were the first to arrive and leave.

Cole pulled his truck around back and they made their way inside. It was truly a pizza lover’s dream. Every Sunday, a buffet was set up with several different pizzas on the warmer. Best of all, it was all-you-could-throw, as Lucky said.

Cole noticed some of his players were really taking advantage of the buffet, filling up their plates with several slices of pizza. He knew they would regret eating so much when it came time to run at Monday’s practice.

A couple finished and left a table open. Pastor Furman was quick to claim it, leaving Cole standing in line. Cole finally got to order and paid for the meals.

He arrived at the table with a pair of salad bowls, plates and two glasses filled with ice. They each got a salad, a couple of pieces of pizza and some tea, the first of what Cole knew would be several glasses for the pastor. He was a man in love with his tea and could drink it all day.

Pastor Furman prayed over the meal and they tried to start eating. That was made difficult as practically everybody felt the need to come by and exchange a few pleasantries.

“Were you pleased with the game last night?” Pastor Furman asked, after they got a few seconds alone.

“We had some bright spots,” Cole answered. He knew not to get too deep with the football talk as the pastor really did not have a grasp on the sport.

The flow of traffic slowed and they could eat and have a conversation with a minimum of interruptions.

“I think we’ll be good,” Cole added.

“I’m pleased to hear that,” the pastor answered. “There was a nice crowd last night. I was blessed with the opportunity to meet many new people and invite them to visit our church.”

Cole nodded and finished off a slice of pepperoni. Aside from steak, pizza was his favorite food. He really never ate pizza until college. Then it was love at first bite and ever since he tried to make up for all the lost time.

He could eat pizza every day. The other coaches loved to go to Momma’s Diner or the Downtown Cafe and he went occasionally, but Cole favored Mazzio’s.

Pastor Furman looked around to make sure nobody was within hearing range.

“Any regrets?” he asked.

Cole was a guy, of course. So he had trouble opening up with anybody, like most of the male population. He had discussed his feelings about coaching with the pastor, the only person other than his assistants and Lucky who knew how close Cole came to quitting.

“Not really,” he responded. “I didn’t know if I still had it until we started practicing. Then all the players and the excitement kinda got my blood flowing. I just couldn’t quit when we were down.”

Pastor Furman nodded. He knew the pride of the man in front of him and how hard the last couple of years had been.

“I believe this will be a special year,” Pastor Furman mentioned.

“Is that a prophecy?” Cole asked, laughing.

“No, not really. I just believe that last year there were some young men with questionable attitudes and they’re no longer here.”

“We really have some good kids this year,” Cole added. There were a few who needed to straighten up a bit, especially Garrett Long, but it had been a long time since his team had such good kids on it. “That’s probably why I’m enjoying it right now, along with us having a perfect record.”

------------------

This was the first time Lucky visited Andy’s house. It was hot again and Lucky was glad he went home and changed first. He also wished D.J. or Happy had joined him but Happy had some family deal and D.J. skipped church this morning, something that was becoming a routine for him.

Lucky was forming a friendship with Andy, spending a lot of time with him and his other friends. Lucky and Andy were going to the school to shoot some baskets. He also hoped to talk Andy into coming to church that evening.

He wore a pair of black shorts that almost reached his knees, a white tee-shirt with the sleeves cut out, along with a pair of old basketball shoes and white socks that barely reached the top of his shoes. He bounced the ball while walking down the road.

Lucky worked up a sweat walking to Andy’s. He hoped they could play ball for an hour or so before the heat got the best of them. Lucky wanted to find out how good Andy was at basketball, glad his team finally had some height.

That is, if Andy could play.

He walked up the steps to Andy’s house, a nice two-story house that had been remodeled prior to the new occupants moving in. Lucky rang the doorbell and quickly heard footsteps approaching the front door.

As the door opened, Lucky smiled and expected to greet Andy. But it was definitely not Andy at the door, there was no doubt about that. Standing in the doorway, looking back at him was a girl who appeared to be his age. She had long blonde hair put up in a ponytail. Her shirt was a gray Oklahoma State tee-shirt with Pistol Pete on the front, along with a pair of orange shorts and high-top basketball shoes.

She was almost as tall with an athletic build. The girl smiled at him and Lucky lost all ability to speak.

“Hello,” she said.

Lucky tried to return the greeting but failed. All he could do was stare at her, a vision of beauty Lucky had never seen before. Her blue eyes lured him in and he could not quit staring.

“Cat got your tongue?” she asked.

He tried to answer again, but still found it impossible. He just shook his head, feeling like the village idiot.

“Are you here for Andy?” she asked.

Lucky nodded.

“Want me to get him?”

Another nod.

“Are you able to speak?”

Lucky nodded again, indicating he could, but feeling like this was not a favorable first impression.

“You can come in,” she stated, stepped back and allowed Lucky to walk by. He smelled the light perfume, a fragrance that smelled better than any rose or perfume his nose ever come across. “Let me go get him.”

She started walking away toward the stairs near the doorway, then stopped and smiled back at him.

“I’ve enjoyed talking with you,” she added.

Lucky nodded, his face as red as any tomato. He tried to not stare but watched her walk up the stairs.

He felt like a complete fool. Lucky had no idea what came over him. He had talked to girls practically every day of his life and never experienced anything like this. As he waited for Andy, Lucky shifted back and forth, wondering if this was a good idea.

Lucky heard some footsteps upstairs and saw Andy come jogging out of a room, then bounded down the stairs. He also wore an OSU shirt, white instead of gray, along with black shorts and a pair of shoes that were the biggest Lucky had ever seen.

“Hey,” Andy shouted, stopped halfway down the stairs, jumped up on the rail and slid down the last half, hopping off just before encountering the knob at the end of the rail.

Andy noticed his shoes were not tied, bent over and tied them quickly.

“We got a game or just going to shoot?” Andy asked.

“I guess we’ll just shoot,” Lucky answered, glad his ability to speak had returned.

“Okay, mind if my sister comes?”

Lucky did not know about this. If this was the sister who just turned him into a bumbling idiot, Lucky wished she would stay at home so he did not go through the afternoon feeling like a complete goofball.

He looked up the stairs and saw her standing there, smiling down at him.

“Uh, sure,” Lucky responded, wondering if there had ever before been such a vision of beauty in Petros.

“He can talk!” she said while walking down the stairs.

“This is my sister,” Andy mentioned, pointing at her as if Lucky had not already figured that out. “She can have a smart mouth at times.”

“He’s just jealous,” she added. “I guess you must be Lucky. Andy’s told me a lot about you. Nice to meet you and find out you can talk. I’m Gabrielle, but most people call me Gabby.”

The three walked outside, stopping in the garage to grab a couple of basketballs. Lucky had left his in the front yard and retrieved it.

It was only two blocks to the school. The heat was blaring down on them so they kept to the sidewalk, taking advantage of the shade from the oak and maple trees as much as possible. Even with a little shade, it still felt like they were walking through a sauna. Shade from a pair of maples covered the basketball court, slightly cooling the concrete.

“How long have you lived here?” she asked, impressing Lucky that she could dribble and talk at the same time.

Lucky was still a little uptight but loosened up enough to carry on a conversation. He just hoped nothing stupid came out.

“All my life,” he answered.

“Must be nice,” Andy suggested. “We’ve moved a lot.”

“So it’s easy for us to meet people,” Gabby pointed out, still dribbling the ball and practicing a crossover. “We’ve had a lot of practice.”

Lucky nodded, watching her moves. She dribbled as good as most guys and appeared to have total control of the ball at all times.

“You play ball?” he asked.

“I try,” she answered.

“She’s a stud,” Andy remarked.

“Girls can’t be studs,” Gabby commented.

“What grade will you be in?” Lucky asked.

“She’s a year older,” Andy commented.

“And much wiser, of course,” she added. “But I’m a sophomore, just like you guys because with all our moving, I got set back a year.”

“Bad grades,” Andy pointed out.

“You wish,” Gabby stated, then acted like she was going to throw the ball at her brother. “All the different states had different rules and it caused me to start school late and be in the same grade as my dorky brother.”

Lucky was still a little sore from the practice game the night before, but knew he would loosen up. He did some stretches, trying to loosen the sore muscles while Andy and Gabby started shooting.

Lucky saw Andy was a lefty. He seemed a little awkward, but it was mostly because of his size. His shot had a nice touch to it and he handled the ball fairly well, just tended to dribble a little high.

That wasn’t the case with Gabby. She was smooth, nothing like most girls who played ball. Gabby appeared to glide through the air, no wasted movement. She was in total control of the ball. Her shot was also smooth, showing perfect fundamentals.

The swish after the end of the shot convinced Lucky she was better than the average player.

Lucky picked up his ball and attempted his first shot.

It hit nothing, especially the net. Lucky cringed as he watched the airball, convinced that would impress Andy and Gabby.

“Nice shot,” she commented.

“Thanks,” he answered. “Just getting loosened up.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“You guys don’t look like brother and sister,” he stated, tossing up a shot that clanged off the side of the rim.

She swished one from behind the free-throw line.

“There is the whole girl and guy thing, you know,” she reminded him.

“She’s the girl,” Andy commented.

“And he’s the guy,” Gabby added. “Although sometimes I have my doubts.”

“I’m working on my manly appearance,” Andy said. “I’ve been practicing spitting and grunting and making gross noises with my bodily functions. Still can’t beat her, though.”

“You wish,” Gabby argued, again acting like she was going to throw the ball at her brother. She looked at Lucky. “I’m in complete control of all bodily functions. My brother’s the one who embarrasses the whole family.”

Lucky retrieved his ball and went in for a layup, finally making a shot.

Andy started to find his range. Gabby had already found it, hitting shots from all over the court. Everything she shot seemed to go in.

Lucky missed another shot, quite badly.

“I’d heard you were good,” Gabby mentioned.

“He’s in a football mentality,” Andy pointed out. “He hasn’t switched over to his basketball one yet.”

“It didn’t take you long,” his sister countered, draining one from where the three-point line would be if the court had one.

“I’m very flexible,” Andy pointed out.

Lucky finally made a shot other than the layup, a jumper from the elbow. It hit the rim and bounced around, finally falling through. His whole body was tired and his muscles were not following directions.

“I thought you guys were going to win last night,” she stated. The first sweat had appeared on her forehead and her face was starting to get a little red.

“So did I,” Lucky agreed.

“It would have been different if I’d played more,” Andy suggested.

“I’m sure that would have made a big difference,” Gabby agreed, with a little skepticism. “The coaches probably didn’t want to destroy the confidence of the starters and that’s why they kept you on the bench.”

“You have to overlook her mouth,” Andy pointed out. “She doesn’t realize a woman’s place is in the kitchen, with her mouth shut.”

“I might have a smart mouth, but at least I have a smart brain, too,” she remarked. “I’ve always believed there is a certain amount of intelligence available for children in a family and I got the majority of it.”

“She thinks it’s a big deal just because she always makes ‘A’s’.”

Lucky was impressed. She was obviously a good athlete and also made her grades. He was always one of the smarter ones in his class but never applied himself to make straight 'A's.

He was finally starting to loosen up. His shot started finding its range, hitting nothing but net. It looked like a shot straight out of the textbook. Elbow in tight, right hand behind the ball with the left hand supporting. At the top of his jump, he paused for a brief second, shot the ball and watched it arc toward the goal. It again bypassed the rim and caused the net to swish.

As he retrieved the ball, Lucky watched Andy take off from just inside the foul line, take two dribbles and leap, soaring high above the ground and easily dunking the ball.

“She might make the ‘A’s’,” Andy commented, “but I’ve never seen her do that.”

Lucky was a little stunned, not expecting Andy to jump like that. Lucky had been able to dunk for a couple of years, but certainly not that easy.

They continued shooting and talking. The shade helped cool the court, but all three were drained and drenched within 30 minutes. They decided it was too hot and headed home since heat stroke was not something they wanted to experience.

Lucky was a little more used to the heat since he worked out in it all summer. He could have played a little longer but Andy and Gabby had all they could handle.

They slowly walked back to Andy and Gabby’s home, again staying in the shade as much as possible. After getting to their house, they sat down on the porch. It was in the shade and a ceiling fan was generating some air from above.

“Go get us something to drink,” Andy told Gabby.

“Go get your own,” Gabby countered. “I don’t see a cast on either of your legs and last time I checked you don’t sign my check.”

Andy shook his head.

“Girls,” he commented, as if that was enough said.

Gabby got up out of her chair and headed into the house. Lucky hoped she would bring them back something to drink.

“Don’t let her scare you off,” Andy mentioned.

“Is she always like that?” Lucky asked.

“Pretty much. Once she gets to know a person that tames her down a little bit. I guess we’ve moved around so much it’s some kind of defensive mechanism so people won’t mess with her.”

“You don’t seem to need one.”

“Naw, I’ve always been the biggest guy in my class. People usually don’t mess with me.”

“She seems okay,” Lucky commented.

“For a sister, I guess.”

Gabby reappeared, carrying a tray with three large glasses filled with ice and water. She handed one to each of them and sat down in a wooden rocker.

“Thanks,” Lucky said.

“You’re quite welcome,” she remarked. Gabby was putting the glass against her forehead, moving it from side-to-side.

“That’s a good girl,” Andy added, moving quickly to avoid the pillow his sister threw at him.

Lucky drank close to half the water in one drink, savoring the taste.

“I was wondering if you guys would go to church with me tonight,” he asked.

“I’m not a guy,” she remarked. “And sometimes I wonder about my brother.”

Andy fired the pillow back, missing high and to the right.

“I’ll go,” Andy agreed.

“There are a lot of people our age who’ll be there,” Lucky added.

“I’ll pass,” Gabby stated. “I’ve got some things to do.”

“Maybe next time then.”

“Maybe,” she answered.

Chapter 9

Chapter 7

The kickoff for the scrimmage was scheduled for seven. A line started forming an hour before the front gates opened at six. Unlike the regular season, seats for the Black and White game, were first-come, first serve.

There was a buzz in the air, even for a scrimmage between teammates. The parents and relatives wore black or white shirts, depending on which color their favorite player wore.

The players dressed side-by-side, just like any other practice or game. But there was not the usual horseplay or joking. As soon as they dressed, the players divided up and met with their coaches.

The teams went through their warm-ups on different ends of the field. Cole used an officiating crew, just like a real game.

Usually in the Black and White game, the younger players were a little intimidated from taking on older players who were more experienced, bigger, faster and stronger. This sophomore class was not the usual group, however. Stub was a little surprised to hear his guys talk about winning the game, not just being competitive.

This group was not used to losing and did not see any reason why this game should be different. There were a bunch of reasons, of course, but nobody bothered telling the sophomores.

After the warm-ups were completed, the captains met at the center of the field for the coin toss. The stands on both sides were almost full. There were just as many people standing at the concession areas and along the fence that ran behind the Petros sideline. This was where most of the guys stood, old Panthers who visited with friends and former teammates, instead of sitting in the stands with wives and girlfriends.

The White team won the toss and deferred until the second half. The Black team decided to take the ball. As his team huddled around him, the players wondered why Stub was smiling.

Stub told his team what to do. The players looked around at each other like their coach should probably be committed, but nobody questioned him, at least out loud.

They lined up in kicking formation, the same way Petros had done for years. Lucky would kick for the Whites. The officials instructed him to proceed and he slowly approached the ball, but instead of trying to hammer the ball, Lucky gently tapped it, sending the ball bouncing slowly down the field.

The Black team’s front row of blockers had already turned and was running down the field in the opposite direction, not hearing their teammates holler for them to turn around.

Lucky ran behind the ball, waiting for it to go ten yards. When the football finally crossed midfield, he fell on it, making sure the ball could not squirt free. His teammates started celebrating, both on the field and the sidelines. A small portion of the stands also cheered and clapped loudly while the majority of the fans looked at each other, trying to figure out how that happened.

Ichabod had not let loose with an obscenity in some twenty years, but had to bite his tongue to keep from letting one fly.

The other coaches knew Stub was not afraid to do some strange things and that he would probably be a good gambler if it wasn’t against his morals. Knowing the odds were stacked against him, he decided to roll the dice again.

Stub knew how good the Panthers’ starting defense was and that if the defense did not loosen up, it would be a long night for his offense.

He sent the play in to Lucky, who relayed it to his teammates. The play started off normal enough. Lucky took the snap, pitching back to D.J. going to his left, following behind Happy. Richard Wyatt was lined up on that side of the field as flanker. As the ball was snapped, he took off toward the middle of the field.

Richard took the handoff from D.J. and sprinted toward the other side of the field. Suddenly, Richard pulled up, raised the ball and threw it downfield toward where Lucky was waiting. He had snuck deep into the secondary after pitching the ball back to D.J. After he got behind everybody, Lucky had the secondary burned by at least fifteen yards when Richard released the pass. It wasn’t the prettiest pass the citizens of Petros had ever seen, but it looked good to the White team as Lucky waited for the ball to reach him, grabbed it and took off.

Lucky sprinted, not that it was necessary as the closest defender was twenty yards behind. He was still running full speed while crossing into the end zone, holding the ball high in the air. His White teammates and their fans jumped up and down.

The reaction on the other side of the field was not good. The Black team was more than a little peeved, of course. This was a proud defense and the Blackshirts never liked giving up a score to anybody, especially a bunch of sophomore reserves.

Stub was grinning from ear-to-ear, mainly from the touchdown, but also from seeing the stricken look on Ichabod’s face. Ichabod’s face was red as a tomato. He wanted to holler at somebody, but knew that would not do any good.

He had hoped to give Stub and the sophomores a good beating. Now, Ichabod wanted it even more, to rub Stub’s nose in the ground and make him like it.

Ronnie Jones, one of the Panthers’ best linemen, broke through on the extra point and blocked Lucky’s kick, leaving the White team ahead, 6-0.

The White team was still celebrating until it was time to kick off again.

“Knock it off,” Lucky hollered. “You better get ready. We’ve stirred up a hornet’s next and you’re gonna get stung.”

Lucky kicked the ball through the end zone, not giving Skip a chance to return it.

The Black team’s offense took the field, still dazed after the White’s touchdown. Taking advantage of its experience and size, the Blacks slowly drove down the field, picking up good yardage on most plays.

Skip scored the tying touchdown on a dive play over the left side, hitting the hole so fast he looked like a blur.

Jeremy Toll added the PAT to give the Black team a 7-6 lead.

Jeremy had the tough decision on the kickoff to either kick to D.J. or Lucky. He had seen them play enough to know they were both dangerous. Jeremy decided to see what D.J. could do and kicked in that direction.

D.J. got the ball inside the ten, took off straight up the field, veered to the outside and was finally tripped up by Skip, the last player between him and the end zone.

The White team was outweighed a good 20-30 pounds per player across the line. The Panthers’ starters usually faced this and it was one of the reasons Cole used an offense with quick-hitting plays. A lineman only had to control his defender briefly for the play to work. This style of offense did not require the dominant type of lineman who could hold a block for several seconds.

The players on the White team were as familiar with the offense as the players on the Black team were. Aside from one of Stub’s trick plays, the Black team could read the play quickly and respond.

The Whites eventually picked up three first downs before the drive stalled after a holding penalty. Lucky’s punt pinned the Black team on its own 5. Stub knew Ichabod would be conservative so he told his team to blitz.

Gary read the blitz and audibled to a pass. He took the snap, faked a handoff and dropped back. Just before the defense reached him, he tossed the ball downfield.

Petros’ best receiver, Harry Dean, caught the ball ahead of two defenders and was off. He was the fastest senior, a small player who made up for his lack of size with heart and guts.

Harry looked like he would score easy with a big lead on the defenders. Slowly, Lucky and D.J. began cutting down the lead, gaining ground with each step.

D.J. was the first to catch up, grabbing Harry’s jersey at the fifteen. D.J. slowed him down long enough for Lucky to arrive and bring the receiver down.

It looked like the Black team would score easily and everybody expected it, but the White team stiffened behind Happy and Lucky and kept the offense from getting another first down.

Jeremy came in to try a field goal. His kick from 32-yards out barely cleared the crossbar, giving the Blacks a 10-6 lead.

After his team got the ball back, Stub called a bootleg pass on first down, giving Lucky the option of running or throwing after faking the handoff.

Derwin had run this play and seen it many times so he wasn’t fooled. He read the play perfectly and forced Lucky to stop. Andy Tolbert had just checked in for the first time and was cutting across the field, his tall frame easy to see.

Lucky fired a pass 20 yards downfield, just high enough Andy could grab it but none of the defensive backs were able to reach it.

Andy caught the pass going full speed. He faked out one defender then took off, finding lots of room. His long legs chewed up the yardage and left most of the defense lagging way behind. Only one player could stop him. Gary came across the field and used the angle to reach Andy, bringing him down with a diving tackle.

The first quarter ended two plays later. The drive ended when Derwin nailed Happy in the backfield on fourth and short in a collision that rattled both players.

The Black’s offensive line started opening some good holes again for Skip and Derwin to blast through. Sophomore cornerback Art Miller, weighing all of 150 pounds, actually stopped the drive, blitzing in from his cornerback spot and hitting Skip hard enough to knock the ball loose.

The Whites recovered the fumble. Neither team moved the ball the rest of the quarter and the halftime buzzer sounded with the Blacks holding a narrow 10-6 lead.

Scoop was only a few feet away from Cole in the first half but had left him alone. That ended as soon as halftime arrived. He seemed to be deeply distressed.

“This isn’t good,” Scoop stated.

Cole really did not care to talk at the moment, preferring to write down some notes from the first half. He was going to send them down to the coaches with suggestions for the second half.

“I just don’t like this,” he muttered, sliding his chair closer.

“What’s wrong?” Cole finally responded, continuing to write.

“The Black team only leads by four points!”

“And?”

“They should be ahead by three touchdowns!”

“Why does that bother you?” Cole asked, the pen still moving furiously over the piece of notebook paper.

“It makes me wonder if our boys will be any good,” Scoop added, shaking his head in distress. “They’re playing a bunch of sophomores! I can’t go through another year like we did last year.”

Neither can I, Cole thought, but did not bother to add.

“You ever thought the Black team might be struggling because the White team is fairly good and know all the plays?” Cole asked.

It was like a light went off in Scoop’s head. He had not considered that, but Cole’s response had him smiling and acting like he did not have a care in the world.

Stub was fairly pleased with the first half. His team only trailed by four points and he thought about how good the chicken fried steak would taste Monday, courtesy of his good buddy Ichabod.

Thoughts of food had to be chased away as he entered the gym and found his boys sitting on the bleachers. Stub expected to find them celebrating, or at least in a good mood. After all, they just played the starters virtually even, only allowing ten points in the first half.

But the only noise he heard was small talk among several groups, talking about ways to correct the mistakes. Stub hoped to see them a little happier, then realized these guys would not be happy unless the game ended and they had more points than the opponent. They were used to winning and would not accept defeat.

Stub knew his players were getting a little beat up. He hoped they could keep going and stay close. A win might be asking too much, but he wanted his team to cover Cole’s spread.

He suggested a few minor adjustments, nothing real drastic. Stub knew the best way to move the ball against Petros’ defensive scheme and also the best way to slow down the offense. But his guys were a little overmatched.

In the locker room down below the seats, Ichabod let his guys get some fluids in their system and relax before talking to them.

This had been a real nightmare. After the way last year went, the older guys on the team needed to gain some confidence before going into the season, not struggle to beat a bunch of sophomores.

Ichabod was not exactly a chatty person to start with, and was at a loss for words. He did not need to say anything inspirational. Everybody knew the guys were giving their best and nobody was more upset with the score than his team.

He finally got everybody’s attention and stood in front of his players.

“That first half’s over,” he advised. “Just wipe it out of your heads and concentrate on playing better during the second half. We’ll win this game. Now go kick some tail!”

It was a fairly emotional speech by an unemotional person.

Both coaches read the notes Cole sent down right before the second half started. It was mainly stuff the coaches had already seen and corrected, but he did have a couple of messages that would assist both teams.

The White team got the ball to start the second half. The Blacks shut down the offense, only allowing three yards and forcing a punt on fourth down.

After fielding a good punt, Skip nearly broke one on the return but was tripped after picking up five yards. The Black offense took the field. The White had kept Skip from breaking a long run in the first half, knowing that was the key to staying in the game.

With Cole’s notes still in his head, Ichabod instructed his offense. The offense settled for what was available and slowly moved down the field, picking up decent yardage most plays.

Gary barely picked up a first down late in the drive, then caught the Whites napping on a play-action pass, throwing a pass to Murray Perdue, who caught the ball falling backward into the end zone for the score.

Ichabod started to feel a little better, especially after seeing Stub’s reaction. He did not cause a scene, but his shoulders slumped a bit and his steps just didn’t have the same bounce.

Stub knew his guys would lose, but really wanted to keep the score respectable. After the touchdown, it was time to pull his final rabbit out of the hat.

Ichabod knew Stub was getting a little desperate. He had a good idea what was coming and told his players what to look for. His intuition was rewarded.

Lucky took the snap and fired a pass to Art, who caught the pass, backed up a couple of steps and started to throw the ball downfield. But just as his arm started forward, Gary hit him in the chest, causing the ball to flutter straight in the air. Skip flew in from the secondary, caught the ball in full stride and sprinted the final thirty yards for the score.

Stub wanted to do something silly like throw his hat on the ground, he was that frustrated. But Stub knew that would give Ichabod too much enjoyment so he stood with his arms crossed, acting like nothing was wrong.

Stub knew that was probably not a good call, but also knew if his team was going to win, they had to take some chances.

Jeremy’s PAT upped the score to 24-7.

As Stub looked at his players, he knew they were starting to lose some confidence. Stub wished there was something he could do, but these guys were just facing a much better team.

On the kickoff, D.J. brought the crowd to their feet, nearly breaking it before getting pushed out of bounds at the 43.

The White offense was determined to get something started. Stub wanted to go with what his team knew best and that was their usual offense, the dives and option.

Slowly, the offense began driving. Ichabod grew anxious, knowing how hard it was to stop this offense, even if his team had superior talent.

The Whites reached the Black’s 8 just as the third quarter ended. Ichabod and the Blacks were frustrated. He had tried stunts, slants, blitzes and stacking the line but could not slow down the offense. Ichabod knew Lucky was reading the defense and changing to a better play on practically every down.

Stub’s offensive line was having some trouble, but opening up small enough gaps for the backs to squeeze through. As the final quarter started, Lucky walked up to the line and surveyed the defense. He saw the Blacks had all eleven players stacked at line. He changed the play, using a simple audible system he and Stub devised before the game.

Lucky took the snap, faked a handoff to D.J., twirled around and lobbed a pass to Bobby Murdock, a talented sophomore tight end. Bobby brought the ball to his chest, just before two Blacks delivered a vicious hit.

The ball popped out, but most of the players on both teams thought he scored. One official threw his arms up to signal a touchdown but a second official rushed in, overruling the first, indicating the pass was incomplete because the receiver did not hold on long enough.

The Blacks celebrated, not caring that it was a bad call. None of the Whites protested or said a word to the officials, letting Stub handle that.

He protested long and hard, but the officials would not change the call. As soon as play started again, Ronnie Jones stripped the ball away from Lucky, forcing a fumble the Blacks recovered.

Lucky felt terrible and wanted to slink away. He had to make up for this mistake so he would not let his team down. On first down, as the ball was snapped he flew forward a little too quick, leaving a gap Skip flew through.

It turned into a footrace between Skip and D.J., two of the fastest players on the team. Skip had the ball and a short lead while D.J. appeared to gain ground. As the race for the end zone shortened, D.J. cut further into the lead. Skip could see, hear and feel D.J. coming hard and turned the speed up a notch. He faked cutting back to the inside in a move that created enough distance for him to get into the end zone, just before D.J. caught up.

The Whites knew there was no way to overcome a 31-6 lead in less than a quarter. There was a sense of disappointment among them, a group that had never been beaten like this.

Stub saw the disappointment among his players and tried to encourage them. Lucky felt worse than anybody. He was used to making big plays to help his team, not making mistakes that cost his team a swing of fourteen points because of his fumble and being out of position on defense and allowing Skip’s touchdown run.

Stub gathered his team around him, removed his hat and got everybody close.

“That play’s over,” he advised. “Now it’s time to show your character and get it back. That’s the difference between winners and losers.”

Stub’s comment hit home with his players. Lucky was now more determined to overcome his mistake and started encouraging his teammates.

Ichabod was eyeing the scoreboard, quite happy to be winning but knowing the score was not enough to cover the spread. There was still plenty of time left and he hoped to keep the Whites scoreless and add at least one score.

D.J. returned the kick to the 33, almost breaking it again.

As the offense huddled, all eyes fell on Lucky. He looked around at the ten sets of eyes looking at him, the sweat pouring down their faces, mixed with dirt, and grime. He put his hand out in the middle and the other players followed him.

“We aren’t gonna win this,” he stated. “But let’s go out in style. Everybody thinks we’re gonna lie down and quit. Let’s show them what we’re made of and go score.”

For the Whites, it did not matter the defense lining up against them were teammates and a better team. There was such a determination the Whites would not be denied.

Happy got the drive off to a good start, taking a handoff over the right side and breaking three tackles before getting brought down by a gang after picking up eight yards.

They ran the same play on second down, only this time Lucky pulled the ball back, saw the end was waiting for him and followed Happy into the hole. Lucky cut back inside, picking up nine more yards.

Lucky ran the same play again. This time, he faked the handoff, went down the line, saw the end crashing and pitched back at the last second to D.J., just before getting creamed.

D.J. caught the pitch without slowing and turned the corner, streaking down the field and gaining twenty yards before getting tackled.

The Blacks continued to crowd the line. Lucky saw this and he changed the play. As he took the snap, it looked like the same play as Lucky faked the handoff to Happy, followed down the line, but then pulled up and took a couple of steps back. He saw Art sprinting down the field and threw a perfect pass. Art juggled it for a brief second, then hauled it in and sprinted down the field, finally getting caught and tackled by Skip at the 15.

Lucky used Happy on the next three carries, pounding into the defense for nine yards, leaving the Whites facing fourth-and-one from the six. On fourth down, Happy got the call again, hitting the line with a full head of steam. He was met by two defenders before getting back to the line but Happy lowered his head, kept his legs pumping and moved the defenders back just far enough to get the first down.

On the next play, D.J. took a pitch from Lucky, sprinted to the outside, cut back and dove into the end zone for the score. Stub decided to go for two points. Lucky brought his team to the line and read the defense. The Blacks were in a goal-line defense so he went with the called play, an option to the right.

Lucky put the ball in Happy’s stomach, reading how the defense reacted. Seeing the defense was more concerned with him, he left the ball with Happy, who barged through a small hole, carrying two defenders into the end zone with him.

The score was now 31-14. Looking at the scoreboard, Ichabod started to panic, knowing there probably was not enough time to score twice and cover the spread unless they threw the ball. But he knew that wasn’t the right thing to do against these sophomores that had played so hard.

He expected an onside kick from Stub and had his team line up for it, but got a normal kick instead. Skip fell on the bouncing ball at the fifteen, just before the Whites reached it.

Ichabod decided to go with the basic offense and run the clock. His team would win and he would be happy, even though it meant buying lunch for Stub all week and hearing about it for the next year.

His wallet would be a little lighter in the coming week, but seeing the performance by this group of sophomores was encouraging.

The Blacks had just crossed midfield when the buzzer sounded to end the game. The Blacks weren’t sure if they played poorly or the Whites played good. There was a slight sigh of relief from the one side as the game ended. The players and coaches met at the middle of the field, teammates again instead of opponents. Stub was smiling and prancing around like his team just won a state championship.

He finally reached his fellow assistant and shook his friend’s hand.

Ichabod expected a comment about not covering the spread, but something else was making Stub happy.

“We have a chance to be pretty good,” Stub stated.

“Yes, we can,” Ichabod answered, as the two coaches starting walking toward the dressing room.

“Make sure you bring your wallet Monday.”

“I’ll have it,” Ichabod responded. “Just bring your appetite.”

Chapter 8