Chapter Seventeen #2
“This is more of a team meeting than a regular practice. And yes, Stokes, Collier and Brown are playing for Rustwood, but that doesn’t change anything.
We’re still going to go out there and give it our all on Friday night, and there’s nothing whatsoever stopping us from winning that game,” he said as his gaze swept over the room.
This had been Jackson’s job for weeks now, but he still marveled sometimes at the way the boys looked at him—wide-eyed, focused, ready to learn.
He thought he’d been coming here to teach them a few things about football, but a high school coach was more than that.
It had been so long since he’d been a teenager that he’d forgotten how much his coach had meant to him back then.
Coach Tyler had been his mentor, a friend and a disciplinarian all rolled into one.
Looking back, Jackson realized he’d also been the closest thing to a father figure that he’d ever had, although he would’ve rebelled against that word at the time.
Had he realized how layered the role truly was, he never would’ve signed the contract or boarded the plane to Texas. What did Jackson really know about being a role model? He’d never claimed to know how to do anything but run fast, catch a ball and sign autographs.
He was hardly perfect, but he was figuring things out. His childhood had taught him a valuable lesson when it came to dealing with kids—sometimes the most important thing you could do was simply show up. He was still here, and that had to count for something. He hoped it did, anyway.
“Look, I know there’s been a lot of chatter around town.
So far, we’ve just been keeping our heads down and ignoring it.
You boys have been working hard—especially in the past ten days.
I’m proud of each and every one of you, and I want you to know that.
” Jackson’s gaze flitted to his coaching staff, lined up behind him and flanked at the ends by Cade and Bob Simmons. “We all are.”
A wave of nods and smiles rippled through the locker room.
Jackson lowered his gaze, and then met their eyes again with purpose. “But it’s time to talk about the curse.”
A stunned silence followed, then a collective intake of breath. He’d just uttered the unspeakable word out loud.
Jackson couldn’t take credit for tackling the taboo subject, though. Calla had done it first, and she’d done it so well that he was going to let her opinion piece in the Saturday edition of the Lone Star Gazette do the talking. She’d broken it down far better than he could, anyway.
“Did anyone here read Calla Dunne’s column in the paper this weekend?” he asked.
At first, no one dared to raise a hand. Most of the teenagers dropped their gazes to the floor, and even the other coaches stayed silent, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other.
Then, a sound came from behind him—the quiet clearing of a throat.
He turned to see Cade lifting his hand in the air.
The admission set off a chain reaction. One by one, the other coaches did the same. Even Simmons, who sighed as he did so. A few of the boys followed, until about half the people in the room had admitted to reading Calla’s article.
“I heard my parents talking about it over the weekend,” one of the players said.
“That doesn’t surprise me. I’m willing to bet that quite a few tongues have been wagging lately.” Jackson reached into his pocket for the folded piece of newsprint he’d been carrying around since Saturday. “I’d like to read the article out loud for those of you who haven’t seen it.”
A hand flew up at the back of the room. “Coach?”
Tommy Riess stood and squared his slim shoulders. “Can I read it?”
Jackson paused, startled but filled with unexpected emotion. The piece referenced Tommy’s injuries, and the teen had been downplaying what happened to him since the night he’d landed in the hospital. The kid wanted to wish it away. Or he had…
Until now.
Jackson nodded. “You know what? I think that’s a great idea, Tommy. Come on up here.”
The teen stepped forward, picking his way around pads, backpacks and athletic gear. He took the square of paper from Jackson and unfolded it, flattening the creases against the thigh of his jeans. Then, in a loud, clear voice, he began to read.
“Before I hated football, I loved it. From the time I was a little girl, it was more than a sport to our family. Like most people growing up in Bishop Falls, it was a way of life. On Friday nights, we’d pack the stands at the high school stadium.
My brother, Ethan, and my dad would wear matching Bulldog jerseys, and I’d wave green-and-white pom-poms and dream about the day I’d cheer on the sidelines.
When Ethan learned how to throw a football, I did, too.
On warm summer nights, we spent hours tossing the ball back and forth while Mom made homemade ice cream and Dad worked long hours at his vet clinic.
I always told him I wanted a real, live bulldog when I grew up, and he’d laugh and tell me that most bulldogs snored louder than the freight train that rumbled through town twice a day on the railroad tracks near the water tower.
I never cared, though. I could see that bright, sparkling future, stretched out before me like a movie reel.
“But like so many first loves, football eventually broke my heart. It broke my soul, and it broke my family. That’s the story I’ve always told since the night Ethan was so horribly injured at the state championships.
But this football season has been full of surprises, and for me, the most surprising twist of all was that hearts heal.
Families heal. And somewhere deep down, I still loved the game.
“Football itself isn’t flawed. People are.
I needed a way to understand why the unspeakable had happened to my family, so I blamed it on the one thing my brother loved most of all.
I invented a villain, and in the aftermath of what happened, so did Bishop Falls.
My villain was football, but theirs was something bigger—a curse.
“The curse was a whisper that turned into a roar, and that roar has never been louder or more damaging than it is right now, eight years after a single tackle in Austin, Texas, changed everything. Over the course of this season, I’ve watched the people who claim to love our team the most throw a parade for the man they handpicked as a savior, only to turn around and blame him for anything and everything that’s wrong with the Bulldog football program.
When one of his younger players was injured in a cruel and horrible prank, he took a stand for courage and decency.
He chose to protect Bishop Falls’ own when the same ‘fans’ who paraded him through town a few weeks ago pressured him to do nothing, all in the name of a winning season.
“Because that’s what real sports heroes do. They stand for integrity, no matter the cost, both on and off the field.
“In return, you’ve blamed the curse for everything. You’ve kicked the head coach out of his home. You’ve made the boys who are left on the squad feel like the rest of the season is a lost cause, not because another team is unbeatable, but because fate and destiny are.
“Our boys aren’t cursed, and neither is our town. People cling to the idea because it’s easier to blame a mysterious force than it is to accept responsibility for the way we’ve failed the Bulldogs. We’ve put winning above everything, and that choice is the real villain.
“There is no curse—just a pattern waiting to be broken. I think it’s high time we sit back and give our coaches and our players the space to fix it.
“Do it for our boys. Do it for the love of the sport. Do it for my brother.
“Go Bulldogs!
“Calla Dunne”