Chapter 2

Cole Lester was at the age where sleep came easy. Staying asleep was the problem.

Most nights, he fell asleep in front of the television. Eventually Cole made it to his bed. But sometime in the night, usually around two, he would wake up and spend hours staring at the ceiling fan rotating overhead. He would finally get back to sleep, about the time his alarm clock went off in the morning.

His sleeping patterns were so screwed up that watching television was a challenge, knowing his eyes would get heavy and sleep would overcome him. As long as Cole was doing something, he didn’t get sleepy, but the minute he relaxed, it was time to nod off.

It was a mystery. He never used to need much sleep. Now, Cole would start watching a game on television and know the score and quarter. Then, he would look up and everything was different.

As for watching movies, it was even worse. He was usually asleep before the opening credits were over.

He was seldom lonely. Cole stayed busy enough there just wasn’t the time. But on those nights when sleep was on vacation, the queen-sized bed seemed way too big for him.

Cole used the left side of the bed, the same spot he always used. This was closest to the door in case anybody ever tried to break in. He never wanted to sleep in the middle of the bed or considered sleeping on the right side. That was out of the question. So Cole left roughly two-thirds of the bed empty. The mattress actually sloped in his direction now and even though he turned the mattress every six months, it needed replaced.

Sometimes he still reached out in the middle of the night, expecting to make contact, but his hands always came up empty.

This was another one of those nights. He fell asleep quickly, but woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. As he lay in bed, the only noise was the hum of the air conditioner. Cole decided there was no way he could quit, not with practice starting in the morning. It wouldn’t be fair to the boys, his assistant coaches or the school.

Cole thought about what needed to be done in the coming days. He had already done this several times, but wanted to make sure he remembered everything that needed done.

He had coached long enough that it came natural to him. But Cole also knew his memory was like his sleep, just not what it used to be.

Cole was ready to get going. The start of a new year was always an exciting time for coaches and players. They all expected to win big games and championships, hopes everybody shared when they were undefeated and had failed to taste defeat.

This year’s team was one Cole thought had the chance to be pretty good.

The last two years were disappointing, especially the previous season. His Petros Panthers lost to Summerfield in a game to decide the district championship, the first time in 10 years one of his teams did not capture the top spot. To make things worse, in the playoff opener the following week, Gilmore crushed Petros, giving Cole two straight losses to end the season and mull over all year.

Cole expected this year’s team to have a good defense since most of the players were back. He didn’t expect the defense to compare with his best, but thought opponents should have trouble scoring since there were eight starters back. All eight were seniors and good players. There were basically three spots open, likely to be filled by other seniors or juniors.

While Cole was confident about the defense and expected to have good special teams, he was concerned about the offense. Cole always tried to go with two platoons, only using a few players both ways except in the final quarter. For a school the size of Petros, this was uncommon as players on most of the other schools seldom left the field.

All his players could play both sides, if necessary, but Cole tried to keep his defensive players fresh.

Cole thought his team was ready to get started. It had been a good off-season with most of the players taking part in the workouts. The players were all bigger, stronger and faster, looking nothing like they did when they first joined the varsity.

But despite the hard work with the weights, his players did not look like the usual football team. When somebody first saw one of Cole’s teams, they noticed the size of Petros’ players. The Panthers just did not have the big players like the other teams. His players seldom weighed above 210 pounds, usually going with players around 180 or 190. This was mainly due to the conditioning and running. If a player was overweight, it was almost impossible to get through one of the Panthers’ practice.

His guys knew you could not carry extra weight and play. Cole wanted players who were strong, fast and quick. That was what his conditioning program concentrated on, building a bunch of guys who could play four quarters and still have enough left to run a mile.

On defense, Cole liked using three or four defenses, mixing in stunts, blitzes and different fronts to confuse the offense. If the Panthers stopped an opponent with a basic defense, they went with it all game. Against better offenses, Petros threw the whole book at the opponent, trying to keep the pressure on and force big plays.

Cole’s offense was usually just the opposite. While so many teams were going for a wide-open attack, the Panthers still used a split-back offense with two tight ends and one flanker most of the time. He had opened up a little over the years and sometimes even went with a spread offense, not that Cole enjoyed that formation. It was a good way to spread out the defense, he knew, and with the right quarterback, was an offense the Panthers might use more often.

The Panthers basically had three different formations, ten running plays and about the same number of passing plays.

One of the first things he learned as a coach was players performed better when things were simple and they were not confused. This was why he used this offense. It might not be fancy, but every player knew what to do on every play.

Cole liked to find something that worked and use it until the opponent stopped it. If the other team could not stop it, they would see it all night. Some people always said he went to the well too often, but Cole always figured that until his thirst was quenched, he and that well would become good friends. It was basically the same offense his players used when they started playing football in the third grade. They used most of the same plays, adding a couple of new ones each year.

The other teams knew what was coming, but stopping it was a problem until the last couple of years. Petros’ offense had been bad lately, partly because opponents were used to seeing the plays, but mainly because the Panthers weren’t as good.

Cole hoped it wasn’t because of a lack of work or commitment. He didn’t really think that was the case, knowing some years his players made him a better coach than he was and over the last couple of years his players made him a worse coach than he was.

He thought about the Panthers’ schedule. After two weeks of practice, Petros had two scrimmages against tough Arkansas schools before starting the regular season.

Cole always played the hardest schedule possible in the three games before starting district play. He did the same thing in basketball and baseball, knowing this was the best way to get his team ready.

But this time, Cole worried he had gotten carried away. He wished the schedule was different and the Panthers could play a couple of games against easier teams. Two wins early would really help his team’s confidence going into district play. But then again, Cole also believed his team developed quicker playing tougher competition.

There was an excellent chance Petros would be winless going into district play. The first three games were against three larger schools. Cole knew this would help in the long term, if the Panthers didn’t get a lot of players hurt.

Petros was a Class 2A school. The Panthers opened the season at home against Conser, a school ranked in the top 10 in Class 3A, a class larger than the Panthers. Conser went to the state semifinals in 3A the previous year, losing by a touchdown to the eventual state champions.

The Cowboys were loaded again. They were a huge team with one of the better quarterbacks in the southeastern part of the state.

The following week, Petros traveled to Reichert. The Cardinals were a Class 4A school ranked eighth in the state and expected to be improved over last year’s team.

Petros finished the rough three-game non-district part of its schedule at Hodgen, the Panthers’ biggest rival. The Bulldogs were also in Class 4A, two classes larger than Petros. Hodgen was a perennial power, reaching the state finals the year before and almost winning in a huge upset.

Petros and Hodgen were only separated by less than fifteen miles, but the two towns were as different as night and day. Hodgen tried to be a little more citified, thinking their neighbors down the highway were hicks.

Hodgen was the county seat with the courthouse, all the lawyers, doctors and most of the professional people. It also had a Wal-Mart Super Center that opened five years ago and helped destroy most of the old businesses in Petros, closing stores that had been open for over fifty years.

The two schools had played on the gridiron seventy-two times over the years, taking a sabbatical during World War II. Hodgen had been the superior team, winning sixty times, losing ten and settling for two ties.

Hodgen hated losing to Petros in any sport, especially football, not that most of the residents had experienced a defeat as the Panthers had lost twenty-straight games.

Petros won some games in basketball and baseball over the years, but were dominated in football. After all those years, if Hodgen lost a football game to Petros, the whole community would probably need counseling.

Cole never admitted it, but fifteen straight losses to Hodgen as coach were hard to take. There had been close games, blowouts and some contests where the Panthers could have won. But when the final horn sounded, Hodgen had more points on the scoreboard and bragging rights for another year.

After the Hodgen game, Petros started district play. The Panthers dominated the district for many years, but over the last few years, the other teams kept getting better while Petros went the other way. The Panthers finally lost a district game two years ago. The loss to Summerfield last year kept Petros from having at least a share of the district championship for the first time in ten years.

Now, Cole believed the district would be tougher than it had been since he started coaching.

The toughest district opponent was Summerfield in the final game. The Summerfield game last year was the worst loss Cole experienced. Petros was dominated, 42-6. Losing was bad enough but he felt like Summerfield ran the score up at the end, showing a lack of class he would never forget.

There had been many times when Petros could have really embarrassed opponents, although not in the last couple of years. But the Panthers kept the score down, not wanting to rub it in. Summerfield had been an easy game most of the years and Petros could have scored over sixty points several times, but Cole removed his starters early and kept the score in check.

As sleep finally overcame Cole once again, Lucky gave up on his struggle to sleep. He had tossed and turned most of the night and finally decided it wasn’t worth the aggravation.

Lucky was so nervous he had butterflies flying around in his stomach like they were caught in a tornado. He had looked forward to this day his whole life, dreaming about putting on the black and white uniforms of the Petros Panthers.

Now, it was just a couple of hours away. Lucky had been like his father’s shadow all these years, serving as a ballboy and following Cole around, listening and learning. Lucky knew all the drills, all the plays and formations, and usually what his father was thinking or wanted done.

He looked at the picture on his wall of him and his father, the first time Petros played in the state championship game in Stillwater. They were walking off the field, a little seven-year-old boy crying because his team just lost and looking up at his father, who had his arm around the boy and was smiling despite the loss.

Lucky remembered the moment like it was yesterday. How the artificial turf felt, all the empty seats in the stands, the huge press box and Gallagher-Iba Hall, standing on the west end of the field, looking like a monument. The Panthers almost pulled off a huge upset that night, losing in the last minute to Anson.

He knew his father had thought about quitting and was worried about coaching him.

Lucky hoped his father would coach him all the way through high school. He knew his father would not show any favoritism and never expected any. If anything, his father would probably lean the other way. A lot of people already expected Lucky to start even though he had never played a down of varsity football. Lucky knew that wasn’t the case. He had to earn a spot.

Lucky just hoped he had done everything possible to get ready for the season. He had never worked so hard in his life. Every day, Lucky lifted weights and ran the bleachers at the football field so many times he knew where all the screws and bolts were. He also ran sprints with his teammates, so many they had to keep switching areas to keep the grass from dying.

Over the summer, Lucky had grown another inch, now standing almost six-foot-two. He put on ten pounds and now weighed 180. This was a little heavier than Lucky wanted, but he didn’t worry, knowing the extra weight would be gone after the first week of practice.

Lucky turned on the light in his room and looked at another picture, this one on the desk. The picture was of him and his two best friends, Harold “Happy” Andrews and D.J. Drew. They were much younger then. Lucky remember when the picture was taken, after their first football game back in the third grade. The boys were smiling from ear to ear and had their arms around each other. They had used black magic markers under their eyes to look like the pros.

The three had worked out together almost every day over the summer, putting in more hours than any of the other players, knowing that was the only way they would get any playing time.

Of the two, Lucky was a little closer to Happy, who earned that nickname because it fit his personality. Even his parents called him that. He was stocky, standing a little over five-foot-nine and weighing a shade over two-hundred pounds. His body was covered with freckles, fitting in with the red hair usually kept shaved close to the scalp most of the year. Nobody on Petros’ team liked to lift weights more than Happy. He was already as strong as anybody on the team with legs that looked like fireplugs. He had a huge chest and arms that tested the fabric on all his shirts.

He was always smiling, which is how he got the nickname. The only time his nickname was not accurate was when he was playing football and baseball, or lifting weights. That was his serious time. There were several school records for weight lifting within his grasp and Happy hoped to shatter them before the year was over. Before graduating, Happy expected to set records nobody would ever break.

The other member of the threesome, D.J., was the only other guy in their grade even comparable as an athlete to Lucky. Some said D.J. was as good and talented as Lucky, possibly even better if he had the same dedication. D.J. had other interests, but had worked just as hard as his friends over the summer.

D.J. stood a little over six-foot tall, weighed one-hundred seventy pounds and didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. He had the looks of a model and turned every girl’s eye. D.J. knew he was good looking and that the girls thought so also. His brown hair was usually slicked back and worn a little longer than the norm in Petros, not that D.J. cared.

His parents wanted him to get a haircut and so did the coaches, but D.J. did not see how having his hair cut would improve his performance on the football field or make him a better person. So he let his hair get long, easily flowing past the collar of his shirt. D.J. had a certain grace to him that only the really good athletes possessed. He was as fast as Lucky, sometimes even faster, and good enough at all sports to push Lucky to be better.

His legs were long and muscular, looking like a sprinter’s. He spent the summer working on strengthening his legs, all the time trying to get a little faster than Lucky.

The three of them had been the backfield all the years they played together and hoped to eventually fill Petros’ varsity backfield. Lucky thought there was a good chance of that happening but was concerned that if Happy continued to grow, his friend would lose what remained of his speed and quickness.

Lucky was always the quarterback. D.J. and Happy were the running backs. Happy usually took care of the tough stuff, running between the tackles, while D.J. was more effective using his speed to get outside.

They led their freshman team to a 6-1 record the year before, losing only to Hodgen in a close game. The Panthers appeared to have won that game, but had a touchdown by D.J. called back in the last minute because of a clip.

Lucky and D.J. were a threat to go the distance every play, at least as freshmen. They knew things would be different on the varsity, where everybody was bigger and faster.

The two had a little rivalry between D.J. and Lucky over the years, friendly so far. They both excelled in football, basketball and baseball. Happy chose to play football and baseball, knowing his body and personality were not suited to basketball. A player was only allowed five fouls and the way he played, Happy knew he would be lucky to play two minutes before fouling out.

They were part of a sophomore class that had been winning games since they first suited up. A lot of people thought this class would lead the Panthers back to the top of the district, not that any of them wanted to wait past this year to accomplish that.

Lucky heard his father snoring down the hallway, the noise so loud it probably caused the drapes to move. Knowing there wasn’t much time left, Lucky decided to get out of bed, wondering how a person could make that much noise without waking himself up.

He jumped out of bed, threw on a pair of shorts and quickly made his bed. Cole never told him to make the bed. It was just a habit Lucky got into early and never quit. As far as he was concerned, a bed always felt better after it was made all day.

His friends were slobs, especially Happy. Lucky never felt comfortable while visiting him, wondering how anybody lived like that. Happy’s room had clothes everywhere. Old pop cans and food wrappers were scattered throughout while magazines and newspapers littered the floor. The room was so dusty it always made Lucky’s allergies kick in.

Lucky walked into the family room and sat down on their old couch, feeling the springs under the cushions give way. This couch had been around too long, suffering from the abuses of three guys who liked to lie on it while watching television and occasionally catching an afternoon nap.

He knew the couch’s days were numbered. Eventually the legs would give way and it would be sent to the dump. Lucky hated for that day to come, as this was the only couch they ever had and it was still comfortable, although he really didn’t like the feeling of sitting on the floor.

Lucky rubbed his head, thinking it felt strange to have his hair this short. He had gone to a new barber on Friday, asked for a little off the top and discovered the barber’s idea of a little off the top was in sharp contrast to his own. His hair was now so short he could take a shower, wipe his head a couple of times and it was dry. The blowdryer was a waste now, just taking up space on the bathroom counter.

Lucky wasn’t really happy with the way his hair looked, not that he was a particularly vain person. But he decided if the shorter hair kept him cooler during football practices, it was okay with him.

Without thinking, Lucky picked up the remote and started to turn on the television, wanting to see how the Cardinals did last night against the Giants. They were playing in San Francisco and the game was still going when he called it a night.

The Cards had been Lucky’s favorite team all his life, even when St. Louis struggled. Cole took him to see the Cardinals play every summer since Lucky was young, the only real vacation they ever took.

He loved going to Busch Stadium, smelling the grass and seeing the players in person. It was strange getting close to people he had idolized from afar, seeing they were really living people, not some computer image. He liked closing his eyes during the game and listening to the sounds, hearing the organ, the crack of a bat and the crowd’s reaction to a play.

The Cardinals were having another good year, fighting the Astros and Cubs for first place in the National League Central. St. Louis had a good lineup, probably the best in the National League. But the Cardinals’ pitching was not that great, thanks to injuries and a struggling bullpen.

Lucky was disappointed when the trading deadline passed and the Cards did not make any trades, fearing that might cost them a playoff berth again.

He nearly turned the power on, remembering just in time that wasn’t a good idea. His father was a light sleeper and would wake up as soon as the volume came on.

Lucky knew his father would not complain about it, but also that his father needed to get as much sleep as possible with practice starting.

While sitting on the couch, Lucky grew restless, wishing it was time to practice. He was glad there wasn’t anything in his belly, knowing that was the only thing keeping him from getting sick. Lucky was that nervous, along with being excited. All the other guys wouldn’t feel like it was a big deal and Lucky couldn’t understand it, even though he knew sports weren’t as important to them.

His ties to the Petros Panthers were a lot closer than most of his teammates since Lucky had been involved with the teams since he was old enough to walk. Lucky couldn’t remember the last time he missed a practice. Over the years, he watched all the football, basketball and baseball games his father coached, usually never more than a few yards away from his dad. He knew all the players, their strengths and weaknesses, likes and dislikes.

He amazed his friends by quoting scores of basketball games from years ago, usually even naming the high scorer and his point total. It wasn’t that big of a dead to Lucky. Some people were interested in cars, his main interest was sports.

Aside from his father and the two assistants, nobody knew more about Petros sports than he did, and Cole knew his assistants didn’t have as much passion as Lucky. The other guys in his class used to always ask Lucky what he watched on television the night before. They thought it was strange because if he watched anything, it was usually a sporting event. If it wasn’t a live game, it was a replay of one of Petros games’ Cole kept in a bookcase in the family room.

Lucky looked over at the huge tape collections, remembering all the times he and his father sat in this room, watching film of the last game or an upcoming opponent. It always made Lucky feel good on the rare occasion when he spotted something his father missed.

Like his father, Lucky expected to have a good team, knowing the defense should be good while the offense had some question marks. Lucky knew he would not start on offense. A senior, Gary Bell, would get the nod and deserved it after being the backup the last two years.

Lucky knew his father, like most coaches, would rather have a senior start instead of a sophomore. Especially when that senior was the type of player all the coaches wanted to have, a straight “A” student who never gave less than a hundred percent.

Gary had never gotten in trouble. They all expected him to be the classmate most likely to succeed, in whatever he did.

He was also a good defensive back, one of the best ones Cole had coached. Gary never lined up wrong or blew a coverage. He was also a good receiver the previous year and saw some action at quarterback.

His speed was decent, but that was generous. His arm was only average. Gary could not throw the long ball and had trouble putting enough zip on a pass to get it between defenders. He was a decent runner, but not really the threat Cole liked at quarterback. Gary’s main asset was his smarts. He knew every play in the small playbook, along with all the assignments.

Some teammates thought Lucky was a better quarterback and should start. Lucky thought Gary deserved the opportunity. But Lucky knew the only way to start was to be much better and leave no doubt about who was the better quarterback. He just hoped to be ready if his team needed him.

“You ready to get started?”

His father’s voice startled Lucky, who thought he was the only one awake.

“I sure hope so,” Lucky answered, grabbed the remote and turned on the television, hoping to catch the score of the Cardinals’ game.

Cole walked into the room, already dressed for the day in a white tee-shirt with “Petros Football” written across the front in black print. He wore black shorts, white ankle socks and a pair of black shoes. His short gray hair was not looking good, as every hair seemed intent on going the opposite direction of its neighbor. Lucky also saw his father had not messed with a razor.

The stubble was quite thick, with the gray easy to see. The only thing missing for Cole was his white baseball hat with the big black “P” on the front. Lucky decided his father needed the hat this morning because of a bad case of bed hair.

Cole looked around for the morning paper, hoping Lucky had brought it in, but saw his youngest son had not fetched it.

“You nervous?” Cole asked.

“A little,” Lucky answered. “What about you?”

“Not really,” his father replied, not exactly telling the truth. “I’ve been doing this too long.”

The father and son looked each other in the eye, each wondering what this day would lead to.

Chapter 3