Page 38 of A Game as Old as Time

“I was fresh out of college and was handed the entire music department.” She swung back toward her student, now smiling ruefully. “They wanted me to run the high school music classes and the musical on practically no budget.”

Typical.

Hailey noticed the bags under Ms. Summers’ eyes. Like many people in this town, it seemed like her teacher had barely slept.

“After a few days and extremely low turnout for our musical tryouts, I---” She barked out a small laugh. “I broke down in the teachers’ lounge.”

Hailey watched as her teacher replayed the moment in her head.

“I was crying. I was lost. I had no support, and I was ready to quit. And then…” She glanced back at the picture behind her. “And then this man sat down next to me. Someone I had never met. He was not a teacher, but I could tell by his polo shirt that he had something to do with the school.”

Hailey shifted uneasily in her seat.

“He asked me what was wrong, and he just listened to me. For almostan hour, we sat and talked.” A small tear shone in Ms. Summers’ eye. “A man I had never met, and he sat with me for an hour, just talking. He just listened to me complain about how I had failed.”

She stood up and grabbed a few papers, straightening them against her desk in what was a clear attempt to steady herself.

“When I was done, he looked at me and smiled. He told me that I have a passion for what I do and that my moment with these students would come.”

She laughed again, putting the papers down, almost as if she did not know what to do with her hands.

“I had no idea who he was or what he meant. But after speaking with him, for some reason, I felt so much better.” She took one more look at the picture. “You know who that man was?”

I have an idea.

Hailey recognized the man from the photos at the pizza parlor and in the main lobby’s trophy case.

“It was Coach Weston, Hailey.”

Of course.

“Three days later, I received a flyer that the football team was running a fundraiser for all after-school activities, including the musical and Theatre Club. Right after the fundraiser, every football player came to my office and offered to be a part in the play and help with the stage crew.”

That would be nice.

The tear finally ran down Ms. Summers’ cheek as she rubbed her hands together.

“I filled every role, and we had our musical.”

Hailey took a deep breath; for some reason, her body had clenched up during the story.

“That year, Coach Weston showed up to the play, and every year after, he would be in the crowd. He never missed a night, and he would make sure to come up after the final show to congratulate me.”

He sounds amazing.

“After last year’s performance, Coach…Coach told me that next year I should do this musical.” Ms. Summers put both hands up against the desk and steadied herself once more. “He told me that it would be special, that he would love to have the opportunity to experience this show with his wife.”

Hailey shook her head, realizing just how much this play meant to her teacher.

“I just wanted to give him his wish, to give him the tribute that he deserved.”

The room went silent again, and Hailey could feel a mist gathering in her eyes.

I did not even know this man.

She had originally detested hearing about Daniel Weston. No one wanted the job that her father took, and everyone around town hated her father for taking it. No one could replace their coach, and she loathed even the sound of his name. The more she heard about him, though, the more she realized how great a man he must have been. He sounded kind and caring. He was involved, not just in football but also in the community.

How could Gunner Weston be so different?

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