He studied his players, and a dozen questions came to mind. Why hadn’t they been home with their parents? How many football players had actually been there? But he settled on the one that mattered most. “Why?” He met their eyes one at a time. “Why’d you do it?”
Tanner started to say something, but his chin was quivering too hard. He coughed and determination came over his features. “Everyone was there, Coach. Only a few guys didn’t go.”
“We didn’t drink until later.” Jack shrugged. “Doesn’t make it right, but we weren’t the first.”
“We weren’t gonna do it.” Todd filled his cheeks and exhaled slowly. “The girls kept pushing us, telling us to go ahead and drink. Just one or two beers.” He pursed his lips. “It was stupid.”
Jim surveyed the threesome. They were pathetic, and what they were saying made him furious. But at least they were honest. He leaned over, planting his elbows on his knees. “So there you are, my captains, at a party where people are drinking.” His tone screamed his disappointment, but he kept his anger in check. “You know what I would’ve expected from you?”
The boys stayed silent, but they didn’t look down, didn’t look away.
“I would’ve hoped my captains would tell the other guys how wrong they were.” Jim pointed at Tanner. “If you had left, just about every guy on the team would’ve done the same thing. That’s the sort of pull you have, Tanner.” He looked at the others. “You too, Jack . . . Todd.” He worked to lower his voice. “You were named captains for a reason. Because the other guys look up to you.”
“It was stupid.” Tanner folded his hands and stared at a spot on the floor again. “Nothing but stupid.”
“It was.” Jim sat up straight and crossed his arms. God . . . give me wisdom. I don’t want to crush them, but I want them to understand . . . please. He exhaled and another thought hit him. “How many of you drove home after you drank?”
“Lots of us.” Todd seemed the most ready to spill the entire story. His cheeks were red, and he looked mortified. His expression told Jim that he wanted to come completely clean before this moment passed. Todd gestured at Tanner and Jack. “I drove these guys home.”
A sick feeling twisted Jim’s gut. His players hadn’t only been drinking; they’d driven drunk. He remembered something he’d seen online a week ago, and he wondered if he could show them. He’d brought his laptop with him because he was fielding dozens of e-mails from Clear Creek students wanting to know about Cody’s condition. Now he pulled it from its case in the corner of the waiting room. He sat back down and motioned for the guys to gather around him. “There’s something I want you to see.”
Jim had come across the video when he was surfing the day’s news stories. A trial was taking place for a drunk driver who, a year earlier, had entered a highway going the wrong way. Driving seventy miles per hour, the drunk driver hit a limo bringing home several members of a wedding party.
The horrific crash was captured on the limo’s dashboard security camera, and the video was being used as evidence in the trial against the driver. The Internet news services had the short video available for anyone to see, and Jim had taken a look. The images were not graphic so much as they were dramatic in their speed and finality.
Now, with his three captains gathered around him, Jim ran a Google search and found the link. Then he looked at the guys. “This video shows you what can happen when you drink and drive.” He explained about the wrong-way driver and the limo carrying the members of the wedding party.
He hit Play and the video came to life. First there was the image as it had looked through the limo’s windshield that late night. Then, from out of nowhere, headlights appeared bearing down on the limo with a speed that left little time for reaction. The limo driver started to turn his wheel, but it was over before he could get out of the way.
Next, the screen went black, but there were four more seconds of screeching tires and breaking glass and twisting metal. Mixed in with those sounds were human cries and moans and then nothing but silence.
Jim quit the Web site and closed his laptop. “Just like that—” he looked at his football players—“the seven-year-old flower girl in the back of the limo was killed. One minute she was giggling with her family, pretty in her flower girl dress and fancy shoes.” He paused. “The next she was dead.” He made eye contact with each of them. “All because some guy made a decision to drink and drive.”
Tanner and Todd were both pale. Jack’s face was red and splotchy, and he looked sick to his stomach.
Jim stood and returned his laptop to its bag. Then he faced them. “How many football players drove drunk last night?”
Todd swallowed hard. He crossed his arms in front of his big gut. “Fifteen. Maybe more.”
“And by the grace of God, none of you killed someone on the way home.” Jim was shaking, imagining the flower girl and how easily one of his players might’ve killed someone on the road, maybe a family coming home from Thanksgiving dinner. He shuddered before turning his attention to Tanner. “How did Cody get home?”
“Some girl.” Tanner looked shaken. The memory of the images from the short video clip hung in the room. He licked his lower lip and swallowed hard. “She goes to another high school, but she was hitting on Cody. She had the hard stuff.” Tanner seemed too embarrassed to go on.
“So what happened?” Jim was upset with all his players, but he had more interest in Cody’s actions. The players knew Cody lived with their coach. “Tanner? Finish the story.”
Tanner gripped the arms of the chair and breathed in hard through his nose. “He and the girl went off for a while. Into one of the bedrooms.” He looked humiliated at having to tell the story, but he kept on. “After an hour or so, she led him back into the living room. She . . . she had a full bottle of some kind of liquor, and she held it up.” He massaged his brow and caught his breath. “She said it was a gift for Cody.”
Jim’s nausea grew stronger. Why would Cody do this? For a girl? He’d come so far in the last few months that it was hard to believe there wasn’t more to the story. Jim cleared his throat. “At that point Cody could still walk?”
“Barely.”
“He was pretty drunk.” Todd winced and stared at his trembling hands. “More than the rest of us.”
“And the girl left with him?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think she took him straight home.” Tanner couldn’t make eye contact with Jim. “She said something about taking a drive.”
Jim’s anger resurfaced. He gritted his teeth. He wanted to ask why none of the players had tried to stop their friend, but there was no point. They hadn’t stopped each other, either. The rest of Cody’s story was easy to piece together. The girl had stayed with him until late that night, then brought him home. He must’ve still been sober enough to give her directions.
The bottle they’d found empty beside him must’ve been the girl’s gift.
And now—because he wasn’t strong enough to resist the pull of the bottle—Cody was fighting for his life. Jim stared at the guys one at a time and scrambled for an idea. A plan that would make a difference to his players. He could be coaching in the NFL, but he was working with high school kids instead. Maybe seeing Cody would be enough to change things for his three captains, but what about the other players?
Suddenly he remembered something. Officer Joe could help him make the point. The retired policeman loved the kids and was a weekly presence on the Clear Creek High sidelines. Joe Agueda was forty-three, a hardworking family guy whose first language was Portuguese. A handful of years ago, he’d retired from police work in Los Angeles so he and his family could open a dairy farm on the outskirts of town.
The guy was crazy about football, and long before Jim and his family came to Bloomington, Joe Agueda had taken on the job of maintaining security at the football games. Every Friday night throughout the season, Joe and his wife, Sandra, could be found on the sidelines with their three grade school kids—Sarah, Greg,
and Lori. Joe and his family hadn’t missed a game in years.
“Don’t worry about your security,” Joe would say whenever Jim or the other coaches walked by. “I’ve got everything under control.”
In the last few years while Jim had been Ryan Taylor’s assistant coach, the only security issue that had ever come up was a fistfight between a couple of Clear Creek students and a few boys from the crosstown rival. Joe had taken care of the fracas and spent half an hour lecturing the kids on the dangers of fighting. That’s how much Joe loved his job. He volunteered his time, and the players saw him as something of a mascot.
Now, with his three captains struggling to make eye contact, Jim remembered the offer Joe had made him at the end of the season. “It’s that time of year.” Joe gave him a wary look.
“Play-offs?” Jim chuckled. The more comfortable Joe had become around Jim, the more he offered his suggestion on a play or a defensive set.
“Not the play-offs.” Usually Joe’s smile never left his face as he joked with players and line judges alike. But in that conversation he had been deeply serious. “The holidays are when the guys drink. I’ve seen it with other football teams. They finish the season, and it’s one party after another.” He made a light jab with his pointer finger at Jim’s chest. “When I worked as an officer, I saw enough to scare the guys away from partying. Let me know if you ever need me.”
So maybe Joe was the answer.
Jim clenched his fists. “As soon as Cody—” A surge of emotion grabbed him by the throat. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited until he had control. When he did, he focused on Tanner. “As soon as Cody comes out of this thing, we’re having a meeting.” He looked down the line at Jack and then at Todd. “I’ll want you three to say a few words to the guys.”
There was a round of “Yes, Coach” and “Definitely.”
Todd was the first one to stand. “Can we see Cody?”
“I’ll check.” Jim knew that Bailey didn’t want to run into the guys, but by now she and Jenny would be ready to take a break, maybe head down to the cafeteria for lunch. Jim rose and faced the captains. He wasn’t sure whether to yell at them or pray with them or wrap them up in a hug. He settled with putting his hand on the shoulders of Tanner and Jack. “You guys know where I stand, my faith, my convictions.” He heard the sincerity in his tone. “I won’t stand for drinking on my team. Not another day.”
The guys nodded.
Tanner gulped and squinted at him. “We’re sorry. Really, Coach. That’s why we came here.”
“I know.” Jim felt his shoulders relax a little, and he lowered his hands to his sides. “I respect you for that. Still, we’ve got a lot of work to do. All three of you have families that attend churches in town. Right now . . . Cody could use your prayers.” He excused himself and went down the hall.
Jenny and Bailey were standing next to Cody’s bed. They both looked up when Jim entered the room. He met Jenny’s eyes. “The guys want to come in.”
“Okay.” She didn’t ask any questions.
Jim told her with his eyes that he was grateful she didn’t need details now. He didn’t want to talk about his players in front of Bailey.
As she and Jenny filed out of the room, Bailey stopped. “Daddy . . . what if he doesn’t wake up?”
“He will, baby.” Jim hugged her for a long time.
Jenny came up beside him and put her arm around Bailey’s shoulders.
When Bailey took a step back, she had fresh tears in her eyes. “Thanks for giving me a warning. I really don’t want to see the guys.”
Jim watched them leave, then returned to the waiting room and led Tanner, Todd, and Jack to Cody’s room. Though they had arrived contrite and wanting to confess their wrongdoings, Jim wasn’t sure they fully understood the seriousness of their actions. But now, as they gathered stiffly around Cody’s hospital bed, Jim saw the gravity of the matter hit each of them at the same time. Jim suspected they would feel the seriousness of their troubles at an even deeper level when he asked Officer Joe to talk to them and the rest of the players. Joe had explained that he had videos from his days on the police force. Yes, there would be difficult days ahead for the entire Clear Creek football team.
But for now, Jim could tell the reality was taking its toll on these three. Not because of anything they said to each other or to Cody as they hovered near his bed. But because each of Jim’s toughest football captains was doing something Jim had never seen them do before.
They were crying.
Dayne Matthews’ breath hung in the freezing air, but he moved carefully on the sloped, grassy lawn, staying in the pocket as he searched for his receiver. “Shawn . . . get open!”
Shawn Flanigan ran as hard as he could past the three-man defense. “Here! Throw it here!”
Dayne took two long steps, winced at the pain that remained in his left leg, and fired the ball downfield. It soared through the air, and twenty yards away Shawn jumped as high as he could, snagged it, and brought it to his chest. “First down!”
Ricky, the Flanigans’ youngest, raised both hands in the air and hooted his approval. He high-fived Dayne. “We did it! I knew we could do it!”
Dayne was out of breath and mindful of the ache in his leg. Though he’d come far in rehab, the doctor had told him to take it easy, and he would. He had. There was a chance his leg might never be as strong as it had once been, but none of that mattered. Not the pain in his leg, the way he still tired easily, or the scar that ran from his knee to his thigh.
He was alive and he was here, well enough to play the game the way he’d played it as a boy in boarding school. If God had given him this much, what more could he want?
Dayne walked down the yard to the new line of scrimmage. “Another one just like it, okay?”
Ricky’s cheeks were red from the effort. “One more score and we win!”
The teams weren’t that evenly matched. Dayne, Shawn, and Ricky against Katy, BJ, and Justin. More than once, Justin had given Katy a look that said they might as well have Bailey on their team for as great a job as Katy was doing. “No offense,” Justin had said before the last play, “but you play football like a girl.”
Katy tipped back her head and laughed. “I’m not sure I’m even that good.”
She was bundled up in a nylon down jacket, red scarf, gloves, and snow boots. She was so bogged down that she didn’t run so much as lumber from one part of the yard to another. But her eyes shone, and her blonde hair hung halfway down her back. Dayne couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
Dayne nodded across the line to Justin, the most athletic of the Flanigan boys. “We’re in the red zone now!”
Justin tossed his hands in the air and gave Dayne a look of comical defeat. The four youngest Flanigan boys—all athletes—knew better than to expect much sporting talent from Katy Hart. The game had been going for half an hour, and already Dayne’s team was up by three touchdowns. If they reached four, they’d agreed they would call it a day.
In all, the game had been a great diversion.
Jim, Jenny, and Bailey were still holding vigil for Cody Coleman at the hospital, where they might stay all day. Connor was at the Reeds’ working on his voice recital performance, and Jim had asked Dayne and Katy to watch their four younger boys.
Dayne was spending the week at the Baxter house until he and Katy had time to buy furnishings for the house on the lake. When Dayne had learned about the emergency with Cody, he joined Katy at the Flanigan house. Katy was heartsick about the teen, and the four youngest boys had been sitting around the living room, somber and teary eyed.
The football game had been Dayne’s idea.
Shawn stayed at receiver as they lined up for the next play. Dayne didn’t want to make it too easy, so rather than go out for another pass, they agreed the ball would go to Ricky, the youngest. He was the only Flanigan child who had actually played football that fall. The other three boys were playing advanced club soccer—a sport that went almost year-round.
“You’re mine.” Dayne pointed at Katy. They were lined up opposite each other, and as soon as Shawn hiked the ball, Dayne passed it off to Ricky. Then, moving in dramatic slow motion, Dayne ran at Katy and pulled her backward onto the ground. Katy let out a yelp as Dayne fell next to her.
On the other side of the yard, Ricky took off with Shawn blocking for him and Justin and BJ on their heels. Shawn threw himself in front of Justin, giving Ricky just enough edge to speed across the imaginary line formed by two trees on either side of the yard.
“Touchdown!” Dayne was on his feet. He moved toward Shawn and Ricky, and the trio exchanged another round of high fives.
Ricky held the ball high and danced around in the end zone.
“Not fair.” Justin laughed and put his arm around BJ’s shoulder. “We were set up.”
It was well after lunch, and the temperature was below freezing. The forecast called for clouds and possibly snow by tomorrow. Katy cupped her hands around her mouth. “Let’s get inside before we freeze.”
Back in the house, the boys were still chattering about the game as they headed up to their rooms to change out of their wet, muddy clothes.
Dayne had brought an extra pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. He changed in the downstairs bathroom and took his dirty clothes to his car.
When he met Katy in the kitchen, she took a deep breath and leaned on the raised kitchen counter. “We never stood a chance.”
“No.” Dayne pulled a couple of glasses from the cupboard and went to the sink. He filled both with water and handed one to Katy. Then he looked through the great room, out the window toward the yard where they’d just been playing. His eyes met hers again. “That’s all I want, Katy. You and me and a bunch of kids. Playing football and rolling in the mud and being the kind of family I always dreamed about.”