15. Will
CHAPTER 15
WILL
“ A ll right, guys. I know it’s been a busy week, but it’s time to get focused,” I tell the team after we finish warm-ups for the game. “There’s already a packed house tonight, and we need to go out there and prove that we have what it takes to make the playoffs this season.”
A few of the players cheer in agreement when I mention what’s at stake with this game, and I wait for them to calm down before continuing.
“Like I was saying, I don’t think I need to tell you that we need this win. Brookside’s in our region, and if we get this win we’re guaranteed a spot,” I tell them, motioning for them to quiet down as they start to cheer again. “But I’ve told you all week we’re gonna have a lot of eyes on us after what happened last week. So when we go out there, keep your heads down and your mouths shut. Do you understand?”
The boys respond with a chorus of “Yes, Coach,” and I nod.
“Okay. Remember your routes and leave it all on the field. Take a minute, get your head on straight, and let’s win this dang thing.”
The team and the other coaches hoop and holler, and after a few minutes I gesture for Blake to lead the pregame ritual. He nods before standing and gesturing for the team to crowd around him. The other coaches and I watch as he yells, “Who are we?” and the boys respond with “Springside” over and over, getting louder, jumping and yelling until it feels like the concrete walls of the locker room are shaking with the volume. After a few minutes, they break the huddle and the locker room goes silent as they start to line up, waiting for us to lead the Saint Spirit Stroll.
There’s still almost thirty minutes until kickoff, but I can hear the energy outside already ramping up as the fans line up and wait for us to make our way outside. As the team gets set, Theo leans over and looks out the small window before whispering, “Okay, I knew tonight would be intense, but I’ve never seen this many people at a high school game in my life. Where the hell did everyone come from?”
“I told you this place takes Homecoming pretty seriously,” I tell him, straightening my headset.
“Yeah, no shit,” he responds, shaking his head as Jason, Kent, and the other coaches join us.
“Let’s go make playoffs, huh, gentlemen?” Kent says, just as I open the door to the chaos outside.
I ignore him, letting the other coaches lead the way and trying to push aside the tug of annoyance I’m still feeling at him from the way he flirted with Hannah earlier today.
Seriously… you have a game to coach. You do not have time to be worried about Hannah’s love life. And you certainly can’t ignore your defensive coordinator during the game. My subconscious reminds me, and I shake myself, trying to get my head right as I step out of the locker room where hundreds of fans are lined up chanting along with the cheerleaders. “Black, blue, white… Fight, Saints, fight.”
I try to tune out the lines of people as we make our way to the field and nod along as the band starts to play the fight song. Eventually, Theo opens the gate that leads to the field, and I take my position on the sidelines as the band gets reset for the national anthem.
As soon as they finish, the captains step on the field, shaking hands with the players from Brookside, before the refs step up to toss the coin. I pump my fist when we win the toss, deferring to receive after the first half, and wait for the team to bust out of the run-through sign that the cheerleaders painted.
“You're still good with us trying the new play on our first possession, right,” Marcus asks, and I just grunt in agreement, mentally sizing up the players on the Brookside sideline. They have a couple of boys that I know from watching films who are fast as shit, but if we can keep them contained, we should be okay. I turn to remind Kent to tell the boys to make sure they keep their eyes on number seven for the bulldogs one more time, but when I turn to my left, Theo’s the only one still standing beside me.
“Where the hell’d the rest of ’em go?” I ask, searching the sideline as the team runs through the sign and heads toward us.
“Those two went to make sure the special teams are ready to go,” Theo replies, gesturing to where Marcus and Jason have pulled the kickoff team to give them their last few reminders.
“Right, but where’s Kent?” I question, “He was just right here.”
“Looks like he’s talking to Hannah,” Theo answers, gesturing to where Hannah is standing with the cheerleaders, talking to my defensive coordinator like we’re not less than a minute from kickoff.
I feel my anger rise because what the fuck are they thinking. Without responding to Theo, I turn and barrel toward them, feeling my temper get stronger and stronger the closer I get. Just as I step beside them, Hannah lets out a laugh at something Kent said, and I snap.
“Sorry to interrupt the party, but since it’s clear both of you forgot, we have a fucking game to win. And it just so happens, I need my defensive coordinator to do that,” I growl, thankful there aren’t any students around to hear me.
“Sorry, man. She said she needed to talk to one of us,” Kent says, already turning and heading back toward the team.
I turn back to Hannah and cross my arms as I scowl at her. Her blonde hair’s blowing in the breeze, and I catch a whiff of the damn vanilla perfume she always wears, which only makes me angrier for some reason.
“I know this is hard for you to understand, but the world doesn’t revolve around you. Some of us actually need to focus on this damn game, Hannah, so if you could leave my staff alone, that'd be great.”
“Screw you, Will. I came over to bring this,” she says, holding out one of the armbands with our plays on it. “One of the players left it at the spirit line and I thought you might want it. But since I clearly think the world revolves around me, just forget it.”
“I don’t have time for this,” I growl, taking the damned band from her hand. “Get to your seat and stop distracting my staff.”
She opens her mouth to respond, but I’m already walking away, throwing the band at Kent. “Find out which one of your players can’t keep up with their shit.”
He just nods, before saying, “Listen, man, I didn’t?—”
Before he can finish, I cut him off, “It’s fine. Let’s win this thing.” It’s really not, but I can’t afford to lose this game because we can’t communicate.
He smiles tightly and nods, before turning to the field as we watch Bobby kick the ball off to the waiting Brookside receiver’s hands. He catches it, but only makes it a few yards before one of our players takes him down.
I clap once, trying to focus on the game, but after that encounter, I feel off-kilter. I spend the next few plays telling myself to focus, but it's clear when Theo and Marcus both ask me a question through the headset multiple times before I register what they’re saying that my head isn’t where it’s supposed to be.
I blow out a frustrated breath, willing myself to forget about whatever the fuck has my head in such a mess, but I know I’m just going through the motions. Thankfully, the team is executing all our plays pretty well, so there isn’t a ton for me to correct. Before I know it, the refs are signaling for halftime, and I motion for my assistant coaches to lead the speech. Theo gives me a look that clearly asks what the hell is wrong with me, but I ignore him.
This game can’t be over soon enough.
Thankfully, by the time the fourth quarter starts, I’ve managed to shake off whatever the hell had a hold of me, and I hold my breath as the offense lines up on the Brookside thirty-yard line. It’s third and two, and we need this one to make sure the drives we’ve made in the last few plays aren’t wasted.
Marcus looks at the sideline to check the play we’re running, and I pull in a tight breath, waiting to see if we can put this one away. We’re up by ten, and if we can score again, we’ll have a big enough lead that Brookside won’t have a chance of coming back in the last few minutes.
The ref blows his whistle signaling the start of the play, and the center snaps the ball into Blake’s waiting hands. I know it’s just in my head given the crowd we have tonight, but everything goes silent for a moment in anticipation while Blake takes a step back and pumps twice while looking for the receiver downfield. One of the Brookside players rushes him, and he throws the ball just as he’s tackled from behind.
The ball soars through the air and I’m pretty sure it’ll be incomplete when Stephen, one of the sophomores on the team, snatches it and runs toward the end zone. I start running down the sideline, desperate to see if he makes it until he scores. I pump my fist and let out a whoop of excitement as the stadium erupts in cheers and the band starts playing “Oh When the Saints Go Marching In.”
As special teams lines up for the extra point, I turn to say something to Theo when my eyes fall on the sideline where Hannah’s jumping up and down with Caroline in excitement. The smile on her face hits me like a punch to the gut, thinking about all the times she used to smile at me like that.
What the fuck’s wrong with you, man? my subconscious screams, and I struggle to figure out where that thought came from. I don’t know what’s gotten into me these last few weeks, but I need this shit to end.
Frustrated with myself, I turn back to the field just as the ball soars through the field goal, and Marcus jumps up beside me, slapping me on the back. “Looks like we’re playoff bound, huh, Coach?” he asks, and I try to match his enthusiasm, before just nodding as we get ready to kick off again.
After that, the last few minutes of the game pass quickly. Brookside fumbles during their next possession, and we send in some of the younger players to kill time off the clock until the buzzer sounds. The stadium erupts again, as the announcers declare that the Saints are officially playoff bound.
“Good game,” the Bulldog coach says, making his way over to shake my hand. “You have quite a team here.”
“You too,” I tell him honestly, before adding, “good luck this season,” as I turn back to the sideline. Mayor Brian and Huey are making their way over, and I feel the corners of my mouth tip up in a grin as they reach me.
“Hell of a game, son,” Huey says, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and patting my back hard.
“Yeah, great game, Will,” Mayor Brian says, reaching his hand out to shake mine.
We make small talk for a few minutes before Theo walks up beside us and shakes hands with both men.
“Well, Theo, I heard you had quite the experience with your first Homecoming this week,” Huey says with a wink, and Theo lets out a growl of frustration, causing Brian and I to chuckle.
“How in the hell do you assholes know about that?” he groans, rubbing his hand over his face.
“Well, one of the boys that took the video is Miss Ethel’s grandson,” Huey explains, referring to one of the town’s nosiest residents. “Pretty sure she put the video in an STS blast, so the whole town’s seen you bust your ass by now.”
At the mention of the STS, or Small Talk of Springside, Theo rolls his eyes. The email chain started as a place for one of the Sunday School groups to send prayer requests, but it quickly evolved into a town-wide gossip chain. Thanks to the controversy around Theo’s arrival into town earlier this year, he’s made quite a few appearances, and each time, he becomes a little more annoyed.
“Yeah, not sure that’s the strategy I would have used, but whatever works for you, man,” Brian adds with a laugh.
“Yeah, yeah. Enough of this shit. I’m going to find Caroline,” he says.
“See you and Caroline for dinner Sunday afternoon?” Huey asks, ignoring Theo’s usual grumpy demeanor.
He nods before responding, “You know we wouldn’t miss it. See you then, old man,” and turns to find Caroline in the crowd and pulling her into his arms.
I’m about to say something else to the men beside me when I see one of my least favorite people making a beeline for me.
“Oh, lucky you. Looks like Miss Sally has something to say to you,” Brian says with a laugh.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath. “How do you know she’s coming for me? She could be coming to complain to you about the new sidewalk construction in front of City Hall this week.”
“Maybe… but, since I spent an hour dealing with that exact complaint on Wednesday when her walking group had to detour from their usual route, I think this one’s for you.”
I groan as she pushes other people out of her way to make her way through the crowds of people, and as soon as she’s in earshot, his suspicions are confirmed when she yells, “Will Thompson, I have a bone to pick with you.”
Several of the other townspeople hear her and immediately turn to watch the debacle that’s probably about to unfold. I give her the biggest smile I can manage and turn toward the old woman. “I’m sure you do, Miss Sally. I’m sorry to hear that, but considering we won by more than twenty points, I don’t know what the problem might—” I start, but before I can finish she cuts me off, stepping closer to me and poking her finger in my chest.
“The problem is that we should have won by at least thirty. I still don’t know what the school’s thinking, letting someone like you run this team. Not to mention, you let the team wear navy on Homecoming instead of the traditional powder blue,” she says, seeming determined to list off whatever she’s so angry about. Knowing I won’t say anything to appease her, I let her continue, reminding myself that matching her energy won’t do any good.
“Plus, none of your little coaching staff even bothered to show up to my knitting club’s benefit, and I told you we were raising money for the youth sports program. Your whole coaching staff is full of those out-of-towners, and you all just think you’re too good for us. We raised a whole thirty dollars, and y’all may as well have spit in our faces,” she says, getting louder and angrier with each accusation.
“Whoa, Miss Sally. I told you when you called Tuesday afternoon and gave us a thirty-minute notice about an event during practice time in the middle of Homecoming week that it wasn’t possible. Plus, we aren’t even associated with the youth sports team. Remember, I told you that you’d need to contact Mr. Jones at City Hall,” I tell her, trying to maintain my composure.
At my mention of City Hall, her eyes swing over to Brian, and she makes a loud hum of disapproval. “Don’t even get me started on you. I swear, it’s no wonder this town is going to shit. The whole place is run by incompetent, lazy children.”
“Miss Sally, you do realize I’m in my thirties right,” Brian asks flatly before Huey interjects.
“Sally, stop being such an insufferable old hag. Will just secured a spot to the playoffs and Brian’s doing everything he can to make the updates to City Hall that have been overdue for years. Now go on and find something else to complain about.”
The old woman opens her mouth, but decides better of it and turns to walk away.
“Great, we’ll definitely have a slam piece in the STS before morning,” I say sarcastically.
Both men laugh at that and we talk for a few more minutes before they turn to leave and I shake hands with a few more alumni and parents wanting to shake my hand or talk about the game. After about thirty more minutes, the stadium has cleared out, and I head to the field house to grab my backpack before heading home.
The field house is silent, with all the players off to the Homecoming dance in the gym and the other coaches headed back home for the weekend. After a game day, I usually can’t get off campus fast enough, but tonight I can’t bring myself to rush. Instead, I collapse into the chair behind my desk, and work to summon the excitement I should be feeling about the next few weeks. We have a great team and a guaranteed spot in the playoffs. I remind myself that I should feel like I’m on the top of the world, but instead I can't help the nagging feeling that something’s missing.