Chapter 50

Cole didn’t get to watch film of Honobia until Saturday afternoon. He had a meeting in the morning with officials from the state and the Honobia coach to discuss where the semi-final game would be played.

Honobia wanted to play in Tulsa, which would be good since it was a short trip for the Lions while Petros would travel over two hours. Naturally, Cole wanted different arrangements.

Tahlequah would be a good location for the game at Northeastern Oklahoma’s stadium, but Honobia’s coach did not want to play there.

The Honobia coach was determined to play in Tulsa. Cole flat out refused to play there and suggested East Central at Ada. It would not be convenient for either team, but would be close to the same distance.

They finally decided to play at East Central, a move that angered the Honobia coach, a man who seemed to be used to getting his way.

Cole wasn’t all that pleased with the location either, but was not going to play in Tulsa. There was the difference in driving times, but the main reason was to keep the Honobia coach and his team from believing there would be a home-field advantage.

He never remembered competing against the Honobia coach. All Cole knew was Honobia’s coach was like so many others he ran across. The man was cocky, arrogant, bullheaded and stuck on himself.

Cole knew many of the young coaches acted that way. It bothered him that so many players got coaches like that who cared only for their advancement, not what was best for the players.

It was obvious to Cole that Honobia’s coach was a good one. A team couldn’t have that much success without having a good leader, but he also decided the chances of sending and receiving Christmas cards were not good.

After the meeting concluded, Cole received some good news on the drive back to Petros. Skip was sore, but fine. Kenneth was going to be okay, as was Happy.

Kenneth’s hip was bruised and really sore, but should not keep him out of the semi-final game. Happy had a bad headache, but did not appear to have a concussion.

That was good news, of course. But the best news he heard came early this morning when D.J. told him the doctor was releasing him.

If he could get ready on time, D.J. had a chance to play in the semifinals Saturday. He had been running and lifting weights, so he was in decent condition. But it would be the timing that would be hard to recover in a week.

Cole was really tired when he finally got home, but put in the first tape of Honobia and hit the play button.

Lloyd and Lucky soon joined him.

“What do you know about them?” Lloyd asked.

“I’ve heard they’re a good team that has knocked out every quarterback they’ve faced this year,” Cole responded, then looked at Lucky. His youngest son looked like a large ball had gotten stuck in his throat.

“Really?” he asked.

“Naw, I was just kidding,” his father answered, picking up a piece of paper and scanning it. “Honobia is undefeated, ranked second in the state. They just moved up to Class 2A this year after winning the last two state championships in Class A. They’re on a forty-three game winning steak.”

“Dadgum,” Lucky muttered.

“That’s tough,” Lloyd stated, looking at the film. “They look awful big.”

“They are,” Cole agreed. “Honobia is probably bigger than anybody we’ve played. They’re a physical team and will knock your block off. Those boys have a lotta nasty in them.”

They settled in to watch the film. Cole was impressed from the start with Honobia’s lines, a group that just dominated the opponents. He did not know the level of competition Honobia was facing, just that the other team was badly outmatched.

The defense looked even better. It didn’t take Cole long to realize Lance was accurate in his description of Honobia.

“How’s their team speed?” Lloyd asked.

“Decent,” Cole stated. “Nothing like Albion, of course. You don’t see teams that fast very often, thank goodness.”

Honobia was dominating its opponents on the film, running up and down the field and delivering a pounding like Cole had seldom seen.

“They do grow them big,” Lloyd pointed out.

Lucky had gone on the internet and printed off Honobia’s schedule and the scores of the Lions’ games.

“Nobody has come closer than three touchdowns against them,” he said. “They’ve got the top defense in our class in most categories. Their offense is fifth in the state and average over forty points a game.”

Cole had seen enough of this film. He stopped the tape and put in another one. There was no doubt his team was going into a hornet’s nest this weekend. Honobia was the most dominating team Cole had seen in their class in several years, almost as good as some of the Anson teams Petros had played.

But while he was worried about Honobia’s defense, Cole felt his defense could handle the Lions. Petros would give up a lot of size, but his team was a little quicker and really didn’t have to worry about giving up the big plays.

He also felt good about the special teams. In the films, Honobia seemed to struggle in those areas. This was the only advantage he saw and Cole hoped special teams made a big difference.

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As the week went by, Cole watched film practically all the time he wasn’t teaching, coaching or sleeping, not that he got much sleep that week. He watched film of all the Honobia games and talked to many of the coaches.

“They just beat you to a pulp,” said one coach in Honobia’s district, adding he never played against a team so big and physical.

Cole knew the Panthers had a slight advantage in speed, especially if D.J. played. But he also knew speed would not be that big of a difference if Petros could not block Honobia’s line, something no other team had done all year.

The newspapers were already predicting Honobia would meet Anson the following week in the title game, one that should be the best in years. As usual, Petros got little respect. The words “Cinderella” and “surprising” kept popping up in all the stories to describe the Panthers.

This bothered his team more than it did him. Cole wanted to be the underdog and hoped Honobia was already looking ahead, just like Albion was during the first half of the previous game.

He had no idea how many hours were spent watching film this week. Cole had actually watched this film before when it hit him. It was so obvious and had been there during all the games this week, but he did not grasp it until now.

Cole jerked up in his chair and watched some more film before calling his other coaches. He also gave Tatum Sloan a ring, to get his advice. It was different, Cole knew, but it might work.

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Lucky was still getting used to this dating deal and spending so much time with a person of the other sex. He had never been much to socialize, preferring to spend time at home shooting hoops or playing ball with anybody who joined him.

One thing about Gabby was she was always fun to be around. She was always upbeat, talking, smiling, laughing and having a good time.

Lucky spent as much time as possible with her, still getting that funny feeling whenever they were together. When they were apart, other than the upcoming game, she was about all Lucky thought about.

He loved to see her down the hall or across a room and see her smile at him. It was a form of medicine that made him feel better than any prescription drug could top.

They did homework together, shot baskets together and just hung out. He had watched more movies in the last couple of weeks than in his whole life. Andy would spend a little time with them if they were watching a movie and Gabby invited him.

He was the complete opposite of his sister. Andy was quiet, shy and more willing to blend in. He was almost too nice, except while playing sports. Despite getting a late start, Andy was turning into a pretty good player in only his first year of playing.

Gabby loved to rag him, but was finding it harder to find things to get on her brother about.

This was the big night. Gabby had been bragging over the last few weeks about being a good cook and promised to deliver a meal her family and Lucky would always remember.

She had read cookbooks and watched cooking shows on television.

“You better be prepared for the best meal you’ve ever ate,” she advised Lucky.

Andy had his doubts, though.

“How can you say you’re gonna cook us a meal?” he asked. “You can’t even use the dang microwave.”

“At least I can spell microwave,” she countered.

Gabby rushed home from school and spent all afternoon and evening preparing the great feast, refusing her mother’s offer to help.

Yes, she was sure no help was needed, Gabby responded, wondering why her mother seemed so worried. She was convinced this would be a snap. The cookbooks told her everything she needed to know and made it look easy.

The meal was scheduled for six p.m. Lucky arrived just before the hour and was told the meal would be a little late. The family sat down at the dinner table, other than Gabby, and waited. Then, they waited some more before finally retreating into the family room to watch television.

A little after seven, Gabby popped her heat out of the kitchen and promised the food was almost ready. She smiled, but Lucky could tell it was forced. Gabby looked like the pressure was getting to her and she could snap at any moment.

Lucky knew something was a little amiss in the old kitchen.

Gabby’s mother, Brenda, looked particularly concerned, especially with all the pots and pans clanging together. Two more thirty-minute sitcoms came and went. The stomachs protested the lack of nourishment, as did Andy.

“I knew this would happen,” he mentioned.

Finally, Gabby peeked her head into the family room and smiled. Her hair was all messed up and what appeared to be a large amount of flour covered a good part of her face.

“It’s ready,” she declared.

“Is it edible?” her brother asked.

Gabby ignored the comment, too worried about getting everything set out on the table. The salad bowls were first, each decorated with dressing that looked like a smiley face.

Andy laughed again and received a stern look from his mother.

“Anybody know the number for the Pizza Hut?” he asked.

His comment was ignored again.

Lucky was not a real big fan of having dressing on his salad. He waited for the prayer, then attacked his salad with a vengeance, his hunger so strong.

Just as he finished the last bite of the salad, Gabby brought in a loaf of French bread and placed it in the middle of the table. Lucky was the first to notice but didn’t point it out. For some reason, half the bread was burned while the other half looked like it had not been cooked.

“What the heck?” their father, Stan asked. “Ouch,” he added, after receiving a kick in the shin by his wife.

His wife gave him a look telling him to clamp that mouth or the couch would be his sleeping destination for the next few days.

Gabby came strolling back in carrying a pot of green beans in one hand, mashed potatoes topped with cheese in the other hand.

It actually looked edible and Lucky breathed a sigh of relief, still wondering how she did that trick with the bread.

“Here it is!” she proclaimed, walking into the room carrying a big bowl. She had on an apron with food splashed all over it. Her hair was completely astray, but it couldn’t take away the pride on her face.

Gabby sat the bowl down in the middle of the table. All eyes were fixed on the bowl. It looked like she had taken a bunch of leftovers and mixed them together.

She had forgotten something and went scurrying back into the kitchen.

Brenda was a very proper, respectable person. Some might say a little uptight and be fairly accurate. This was a little more than she could stand. Things like this just did not come from her kitchen.

“What is this?” she asked, then covered her mouth after realizing the thought was said out loud. Everybody else laughed, especially Andy. He almost fell to the floor from laughing so hard before finally regaining control.

“It looks like throw up,” Andy offered.

Stan was aware of his wife’s reaction from the last time he opened his mouth, so no words came from his lips. But he failed to conceal the worried look. He was a guy who liked to eat and was used to having something good for dinner, certainly not this stuff.

The silence weighed heavily in the room, everybody trying to figure out what Gabby was trying to feed them. They all had a look on their faces somewhere between curiosity and disgust.

Stan couldn’t take it any more and acted like he was gagging. Andy and Lucky almost lost it over that. Even Brenda smiled, but covered it with a napkin.

“Daddy!” shrieked a voice from the kitchen.

They turned to see Gabby standing in the doorway, looking crushed.

“Had something caught in my throat,” he lied.

“Oh, okay.”

“What the heck is this?” asked Andy.

“It’s…it’s a meal I cooked,” Gabby responded, looking like she was about to finally come unglued.

“It really looks good,” Brenda mother added, causing Andy to laugh so hard some of his salad dressing came back out his mouth.

Gabby brought another bowl of something and slammed it on the table.

Her father tried to console Gabby, but only got more threatening looks from his wife.

“We were just kidding, honey,” he mentioned. “I’m sure it’ll be good. Give it a try, Andy.”

“No way!” Andy protested, a horrified and somewhat defiant look on his face. “You do it!”

Andy slid the bowl over to Lucky, who suddenly wished for the comfort of his own home, a place where his father certainly never put together a meal like this. His father wasn’t a chef and cooked simple meals, but never put together some contraption like this.

He felt all the eyes on him, especially those belonging to Gabby. She had stopped crying for a second, hitting the pause button while waiting to see Lucky’s reaction.

Lucky forced a smile and took the bowl from Andy, his former friend. He ignored the look of amusement by Andy and placed the bowl down next to his plate. This was not easy for Lucky. He was a picky eater and seldom tried anything new. Or anything that looked half as disgusting as this.

He got the spoon and put a small helping on his plate.

“There’s plenty more!” Stan pointed out. “Help yourself!”

Lucky had always been taught to respect his elders. It was probably a good thing or he would have said something Stan would not have approved of.

“I usually don’t eat very much,” Lucky pointed out, a statement his father would not agree with.

“Yeah, dig in,” Andy mentioned. “Don’t be shy.”

“I just want to make sure there’s enough for everybody,” Lucky replied, sliding the bowl back to Andy.

Gabby came to the table and sat down by Lucky, eyeing him with great expectation.

Lucky reluctantly grabbed his fork. He scooped up a small portion of food and slowly moved it toward his mouth, hoping it did not cause him to get sick.

He knew they were watching. Lucky closed his eyes so he didn’t actually have to look at the food. He wished his nose was stopped up so smelling was not possible, but the aroma was too strong.

Lucky forced his mouth open and finally put the bite in his mouth and closed down as he removed the fork. He chewed it several times and tried to swallow before his taste buds revolted.

It hit him. The taste wasn’t the worst thing he ever had, but still wasn’t anything Lucky wanted to eat.

“How is it?” Gabby asked.

“It’s not bad,” Lucky answered. It wasn’t really a fib. Close, but not quite. He took another small bite and forced a smile.

Andy eyed him suspiciously, believing Lucky was trying to fool him.

He looked at his watch and tried to act surprised. “Well, would you just look at the time,” Andy stated. “I guess I better go study. Want to make good grades, you know.”

He actually stood up and started walking out of the dining room. Andy made two steps before his father’s glare froze him in mid-step.

“Judging from your grades, I never knew you were that serious about studying,” Stan commented. “You’ll have plenty of time to do that after we eat.”

The message was quite clear. If he was going to have to eat this slop, Andy would also.

Lucky had never been more relieved for a meal to end. Everybody eventually ate a little, just enough to keep from hurting Gabby’s feelings.

“What is this?” Andy asked after his first bite.

His father made sure Gabby was out of hearing range.

“We probably don’t want to know.”

Gabby ate like a pig, throwing down two helpings. Lucky looked on in amazement, wondering if she really thought the food was good or did it to prove it could be done.

Lucky helped Gabby and Brenda clean after everybody finished. He even washed some of the dishes, hoping to score a few brownie points with her mother. Brenda finally ran them out of the kitchen, not satisfied with the quality of the cleaning and convinced they were making even a bigger mess. Plus, with them gone, she could find something to snack on.

Andy had somehow forgotten about his homework and plopped down on the couch to watch television with his father. They were watching one of those shows consisting of videos of people doing really stupid things.

Lucky and Gabby spent some time doing homework. They had a test in algebra the next day, a class that gave him more trouble than any other. It didn’t even worry Gabby a bit since it was her favorite subject.

They wrapped up the night by watching a movie. Lucky was tired but surprised himself by staying awake. It was a movie about some poor girl who meets her knight in shining armor. He went bad for a while before her love brought him back to her, of course.

The movie was one of Gabby’s favorites. This was the second time they watched it. Lucky hoped it was the last. Their family had a rather extensive video collection and Lucky was convinced there had to be something better than this.

Gabby cried for most of the last part of the movie.

“I just love that movie,” she remarked, wiping away the tears with a napkin. She blew her nose, making a noise that probably woke the neighbors. “Did you like it?”

Not much more than I did the other time, Lucky wanted to say, but didn’t.

“It was okay,” he answered, gathering up his stuff.

“You just didn’t like it cause there weren’t any car crashes and nobody got shot.”

No, I didn’t like it cause it was boring, Lucky wanted to say, but didn’t.

“It was fine,” he finally added.

“You sure?”

Lucky nodded, trying to hide a yawn.

“Good, then we’ll watch it again sometime,” she added.

Lucky realized he had just wasted almost ninety minutes of his life for the second time on this movie. But it made her happy, so it was worth it.

She escorted him downstairs and out to the car to drive him home. Lucky bid her good night, thanked her for everything and barely made it up to his bed. He was so tired the clothes never came off.

Cole knew his son wasn’t the only tired player. They had been going since the first week of August without a break and played thirteen games along with two scrimmages. That was more games than most of the colleges played. The Panthers were dragging. Their legs were heavy and their bodies protested the abuse. Cole lightened up the practices, hoping to get the players’ legs back. He also stressed to the boys to get plenty of rest and sleep.

Cole had his team hit less than usual and spent most of the time going over strategy. He decided if the Panthers didn’t know how to block or tackle by know, they probably weren’t going to learn by Saturday.

As the week went on, the players stopped dragging so much and started eliminating the mental errors. The Panthers spent more time studying and talking about Honobia than usual. The Lions were fairly simple to prepare for. They were a team that tried to run over their opponent on offense and manhandle the opposing offenses.

Cole was very impressed with Honobia. The Lions were well-coached, a veteran team with mostly seniors starting. They were used to playing big games and winning them.

Honobia’s line was excellent, as good or better than anybody Petros had faced all season. The Lions were big up front, strong and tough. Cole had not seen film of any team that could match up against the Lions. It did not surprise him that opponents were usually dominated.

The backs were also good, not blessed with great speed but making up for it with hard running and smarts.

Cole had never faced a team with such a long winning streak. Honobia’s seniors had never lost a varsity game. That was hard to believe as he knew the pressure must be terrible. Not that it seemed to bother Honobia.

He knew how good Honobia was, but still felt confident Petros could win and spent all week telling everybody.

Cole talked to writers from both the major newspapers about the game. They wanted quotes about how great Honobia was. Both writers were trying to do stories about a possible championship game between Honobia and Anson, the top two teams in the class.

He would not play along, twisting the comments to get the story to where Cole wanted it. He especially enjoyed his conversation with the writer from Oklahoma City.

“You are playing against a great team,” the writer stated, not bothering to ask a question.

Cole waited for the writer to continue, then decided that must be his method.

“Honobia is a good team,” Cole replied. “But we have a good team also and look forward to the challenge.”

The writer backtracked, still wanting some good comments on Honobia. He wanted some good adjectives to describe the Lions, not talk about Petros.

“During your years at Petros, is Honobia the best team you’ve seen in your classification?”

“We’ve seen a lot of good teams,” Cole commented. “We play a difficult non-district schedule to prepare for games like this. Our guys have gotten better every week. After playing like we have, our guys are very confident.”

This wasn’t going the way the writer hoped and he was getting a little frustrated.

“It is a great accomplishment for Honobia to have won forty-three straight games and going for a third-straight state championship,” the writer added. “Have you ever played a team with this much success.”

“Not that I can recall,” Cole answered. “We’ve won ten straight, so our guys know what it feels like to win.”

“Assuming Honobia wins this week…” the writer tried to say but never got the chance to finish.

“I’m not assuming Honobia will win,” Cole responded, knowing he was being a little difficult but still wanting to get the message across. “We’re going out there to win.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to say you didn’t have a chance to win. What I was getting at was if Honobia wins this week, do you think they have a chance against Anson?”

“I have no idea. We’re not looking past this week’s game and have no knowledge on who will be in the finals from the other half of the bracket.”

“Okay, but if you were a betting person…”

“I’m not a betting person.”

“Do you feel like the winner of your game this week has a chance to beat Anson?”

Cole was really starting to enjoy this.

“The team that wins has a much better chance than the team that loses,” Cole pointed out, then wished he hadn’t. “There are three other teams in the semifinals and I believe every team has a chance to win.”

The writer finally got tired and decided to call it a day.

When the newspaper came out the following day, there was a lengthy article on the possible showdown between Honobia and Anson in the finals.

There were several quotes from other coaches, but Cole was only quoted once since he would not talk about a possible game.

The coach at Anson, Jerry “The Bull” Pitchford was as good as any in the state, Cole knew, and did not add a lot to the story either.

“I’m sure Honobia is a great team,” he was quoted. “But Honobia is going to have its hands full against Petros just to get in the finals. Those boys can play some football and anybody looking past them will regret it. We have all our attention on Windsor. If we don’t take care of our business against them, we won’t have to worry about playing in the finals.”

The article also had several quotes from the Windsor and Honobia coaches. The Honobia coach speculated a great deal about playing Anson in the finals, even saying this was what his team had worked for all year.

Cole was not surprised to get a call that morning from an old friend.

“You just wouldn’t play along,” the caller mentioned. Cole recognized the caller from his southern drawl. It was Bull Pitchford, the longtime coach at Anson.

“The writer got a little frustrated,” Cole admitted.

“Good. That coach at Honobia didn’t play that very good. He should’ve just talked about playing you guys. Can you take them?”

Cole knew whatever he said would go no farther than what was said here.

“They’re tough,” Cole stated. “Big and strong. But we’ve had more problems with speed than size. I really feel like we can win it."

”It sure wouldn’t surprise me,” Pitchford agreed. “I haven’t seen any film of you guys or Honobia, but from what I've heard you guys are playing pretty good.”

“We’ve improved a lot and getting better every week. Our guys are used to playing as the underdog so it doesn’t bother them.”

“Well, I’ve gotta go,” Bull said. “Good luck.”

“Same to you,” Cole replied, doubting his friend needed it. “I hope to see you again next week.”

“Same here.”

Chapter 51