Page 4 of Waiting for Friday Night

Two

Quinton Evans blew his whistle and pointed to the practice equipment spread around the football field. The fifty-plus kids on the field stopped chatting and horsing around and looked his way. “Be sure to get this equipment put up before you leave for the day. And be careful. If we don’t respect our equipment, then no one else will.”

His request was met with several nods, thumbs-up and “Got it, Coach” before they immediately began gathering the cones and practice balls. Quinton’s lips twitched. If he was a grinning man, that quick response might have resulted in a big one. The fast movement by the players wouldn’t have happened when he first started coaching football at Peachtree Cove High School four years ago. Back then, he’d inherited a team that was undisciplined and disorganized. Turning them to the organized, focused team in front of him today had taken patience and determination. The team still wasn’t perfect, but they were a much better functioning group than before.

Zachariah Grooms, the defense coach, walked over to Quinton. The tall white guy was two years older than Quinton’s thirty-six years and had been the defensive coordinator at Peachtree Cove High for ten years.

Zachariah stood next to Quinton, crossed his arms and watched the kids on the field. “What are you thinking?”

Quinton adjusted his Peachtree High baseball cap and squinted despite the aviator shades he wore to block the bright afternoon sun as he observed his team. “We’ve got some good players coming up from middle school. That should help the JV team. But it’s still several weeks before the season starts. We’ll see how they all shake out as we run drills.”

Zachariah nodded. “What do you think of Octavius? He was wide receiver at the middle school over in Atlanta before moving to Peachtree Cove.”

Quinton’s eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on the young boy. Like other high school coaches, he paid attention to the kids making waves in middle school sports. He’d heard about Octavius and had been pleased when he’d learned the boy had moved to Peachtree Cove. But Quinton tried to avoid playing favorites. He’d been overlooked enough in high school and understood how demoralizing it was to be ignored because you didn’t have enough “star power.” He’d earned every starting position he had from school sports to the eight years he’d played professionally and expected the kids he coached to work just as hard to earn a position on his team.

“He’ll have to try for the starting position like everyone else,” Quinton said.

Zachariah laughed and shook his head. “You can play cool with me all you want, but I know you’re excited to have him on our JV team. You know, when the district brought you in I thought it was just because your time in the pros would help motivate kids to play.”

“And now?” Quinton asked, raising a brow.

Though he already knew the answer. Winning Zachariah’s respect had taken nearly as long as it had taken him to turn the team atmosphere around. Zachariah had wanted the head coach position and had made sure Quinton was aware he didn’t appreciate being overlooked for some fancy former professional player. He’d proven his coaching abilities to Zachariah while also respecting the man’s knowledge of the team’s history.

“And now I’m glad to know I was right,” Zachariah said, laughing. “Kids are ready to move here to play for a guy who was a professional. Not only that, you’re winning games. If we keep this up, we’ll get more kids like Octavius moving here.”

Quinton shook his head. “I came here because I wanted to show these kids they can make it despite playing for a small rural school. Not just to draw star players.”

After eight years of playing and working his way to being a starting receiver, Quinton made the decision to retire from playing professionally. Though he didn’t have any championship rings, he’d made it to the Pro Bowl twice, and had been named as one of the best wide receivers in the league. More than what most people had expected of him when he’d been pushed aside and underestimated back in high school. When he turned thirty-two and his contract was up for renewal, he’d decided he had nothing else to prove. He’d walked away from playing, and his coaching career had begun.

“Giving back is cool and all, but I’m good with having you draw the top players,” Zachariah said. “In another year or so, we’ll be able to beat Peach Ridge.”

Quinton grunted. “I don’t give a damn about Peach Ridge. I care about winning our division.”

Zachariah grinned and shook his head. “You can care about our division, but the people in this town only care about our rival school.”

“They aren’t a real rival,” Quinton said, irritated.

Peach Ridge High wasn’t in their state much less the division. The decades-old rivalry between Peachtree Cove, Georgia, and Peach Ridge, South Carolina, wasn’t something he understood or cared about. But the rivalry about which town produces the best peaches had spilled into almost everything. Including having a rivalry match between the two high school football teams that started twenty years ago and continued to this day. Quinton could win all the division games he liked, but until their high school beat Peach Ridge High, he was still considered a probationary coach.

“Real rival or not, now that we beat out Peach Ridge as a finalist for Best Small Town, everyone wants to cap it off with beating Peach Ridge High in football this year as well.”

Quinton waved a hand. “Whatever, man. Let’s wrap this up and get out of here. I see parents arriving to pick up their kids. I’m sure some of them want to talk about my plans for this year.”

Zachariah clapped Quinton’s shoulders. “Better you than me.”

Quinton cocked his head to the side and pointed at Zachariah. “I thought you wanted to be head coach?”

Zachariah shook his head. “Nah, man, that’s all you.” He turned to the players and clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s wrap this up.”

Quinton chuckled to himself as Zachariah hurried away to help the rest of the team. He didn’t blame him. Some parents made this job harder than it needed to be. Zachariah didn’t want to be in the hot seat, but Quinton knew he and the rest of the coaches would back him up if any parent got out of line.

Quinton joined him, the rest of the coaching staff and kids getting the equipment put up and everyone ready to leave for the day. Even though he was tired after running a few laps with his team, the familiar thrill of excitement from the approach of a new football season kept his steps light. He loved the start of football season. He lived for this. The camaraderie and competition that seemed only to come when he was standing on a football field. His days of playing had ended, but this love of the sport never would. Now he got to lay the foundation for the next generation of potential professional players. Though he didn’t like to get ahead of himself, he saw the same drive he’d had to prove himself in some of the players on his team. Those kids might one day walk in his footsteps.

There were a few parents waiting to talk to him. Thankfully, most were just wishing him well and asking how they could help. He directed the helpful ones to the booster club president, Cheryl Green, and accepted the well wishes of the others. After that, he made sure the gate to the field was locked and the locker rooms were clear before going to his Range Rover parked in the head coach’s spot. He was ready to shower, rest and then meet up with his friend Brian later at their mutual friend Cyril’s bar, A Couple of Beers.

“Excuse me, Coach Quinton, do you have a moment?” a woman’s voice called from behind.

Quinton cursed underneath his breath. He’d thought he’d spoken to all the parents who’d waited around for him. Sliding his shades farther up the bridge of his nose, he pushed back any irritation at being delayed. He turned and was surprised to find Halle Parker power walking in his direction. He glanced over her shoulder and spotted her daughter, Shania, standing next to their car with a hand over her face.

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