Page 129 of The Way We Win

The boys all take a knee in the locker room, and I look over their young faces. “You’ve all worked hard to get here tonight. You’ve sacrificed and pushed yourself for the last five months,and we’re here, at the state championship, about to do something this team has never done. Are you with me all the way?”

All but Levi yell enthusiastically, and I reach out to high-five and clasp the hands of those around me. “Defense, you’re making me proud. Offense, let’s bring it home.”

Stepping back, I let Garrett take over working his magic, and when it’s time to head back to the field, satisfaction is a calm in my chest.

It’s going to happen, and that’s not all…

The second half is a shutout. Austin, Tyreek, and Rich are a well-oiled machine. They move the ball down the field, completing passes, catching the tosses, and stiff-arming the cornerback.

At one point, Austin is caged, and I’m afraid he’s going to take the sack, when miraculously, the Pirates’ defensive player slips. Austin hops over him like a hurdler, and when his feet hit the turf, he runs like I’ve never seen all season for a forty-yard touchdown.

Both the cheer and drill teams are screaming, and Allie is surrounded by Rachel, Liv, and Dylan, who are screaming and crying. I shake my head and laugh, looking down at the turf.

I know the headline tomorrow will be something about my rare show of emotion, and I don’t give a shit. Austin’s having the time of his life, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The Pirates manage one touchdown, but in the last seconds of the game, I tap Edward to run out and kick a field goal. Lucas usually holds the ball for the punt, but I let Austin take it this time. It’s their last time on the field together, and they’re like brothers.

Rachel’s hands are clasped in front of her lips, and Allie has her arms around her friend’s waist and her head on her shoulder. It’s a family affair.

The ball sails cleanly through the uprights, and a cannon fires. Confetti rains red and white all around us, and I jog onto the field to shake the other coach’s hand. Turning to face thestands, I count the number of scouts there, and I know Austin will be fielding offers as soon as we roll back into town.

We’re on the field when they hand out the massive plaques with the engraving of the state and the year on them.State Championsis emblazoned in blue, and I hold it up as the boys gather around yelling and holding it over their heads.

We’ll find out players of the year later, but I expect Austin will be among the names listed, if not taking the top prize.

The guys fall back, and my mind is on Allie. We’re through the locker rooms, and I’m making my way to the waiting buses when I hear shouts. My throat tightens, and I look around, not wanting to find what I think is happening.

Sure enough, George Powell has Levi against the wall, and he’s in the boy’s face.

“You think you’ll get an offer now?” The man has him by the jersey, holding him against the wall. “Huh? You think you’re going to a top school playing like that?”

“I don’t care!” Levi yells back. “I don’t want to go to a top school. I don’t want any of it.”

The man rears back, fist clenched, and he’s about to punch Levi in the face, when I hustle forward, grabbing his upper arm.

“Stop!” I shout.

The older Powell jerks, trying to get his arm from my grip, but I’m not letting go. “Get off me, Bradford. This isn’t your business.”

“Itismy business.” I meet his angry eyes head-on. “This won’t fix it.”

He jerks against my hold, snarling. “You let this happen. You’ve been thinking with your dick all season.”

“That’s enough.” Garrett jogs up to where we’re struggling with Logan right behind him. “You okay, bro?”

“Let’s get to the bus, Levi.” Zane’s tone brings a much-needed calm.

He holds out a hand to the boy leaning against thecinder-block wall, heaving a breath. Levi nods, pushing forward to follow Zane to the bus, and I loosen my grip on his father.

I think the situation is diffused, but dammit, George grabs Levi by the shoulder and shoves him to the ground, pointing in his face. “Don’t come home.”

I’m about to take off after the man when the boy beats me to it. He’s on his feet, running after his dad and giving him a two-handed shove.

The man falls forward against the fence, his head bouncing back off the links as his son yells, “I’m never coming back. I’m done with you. With all of this.”

His voice is shredded, and he takes off. Logan holds up a hand. “Let me handle it.”

Garrett and I exchange a look, and I know if anyone understands the special trauma of a punishing father, it’s Logan. I’m angry and aching, and I don’t even bother to check on George Powell.

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