Page 50 of The Perfect Pass
Cade shot him a puzzled look. “You do?”
“I sure do.” Jackson strode out of the office, raising a fist as he went. “Go, Bulldogs!”
“Go, Bulldogs!” Cade echoed behind him.
Just as his quarterbacks coach had predicted, when Jackson arrived at the principal’s office, the school secretary escorted him straight to the main office’s conference room. Principal Dean, the athletic director, Bob Simmons and Earl Whitaker were all seated on one side of the table, opposite the only empty chair available. A symbolic move, if Jackson had ever seen one.
“Gentlemen.” He tipped his Bulldogs cap as he sat down.
Principal Dean was the first to speak. “Coach Knight, I’m sure you know why we’re all here this morning.”
Jackson nodded. “If this is about the assault that occurred on Saturday night, then yes. I sure do.”
Everyone winced at his use of the wordassault, except for Principal Dean. Maybe he wasn’t all alone in this fight, after all.
“Now let’s not get carried away with inflammatory language.” The Victory Club president sat up straighter in his chair. “As I told you earlier this morning at Huddle Up, they’re good—”
Jackson held up a hand. “I’m going to stop you right there, Earl. We all know what happened, and while we all might have different opinions about any subsequent disciplinary action to be taken, only one of those opinions matters. And that opinion is mine.”
“Excuse me?” Earl’s eyebrows lifted so high that they practically flew right off his head.
“You heard me. I’m the head coach of this team. I make the rules. I decide who plays and who doesn’t. That’s why you hired me, isn’t it?”
Principal Dean nodded as the other men exchanged uncomfortable glances. “I’m afraid Coach Knight is correct.The head coach is traditionally responsible for making disciplinary decisions regarding the team.”
Bob Simmons cleared his throat, but refused to meet Jackson’s gaze. “Even when that coach’s own past behavior hardly makes him a suitable role model for our students?”
“Everyone should’ve thought about that before they hired me and dragged me down here.” Jackson shrugged, nonplussed.
He’d been on the receiving end of comments like that for his entire life. If anything, being reminded of his own mistakes only strengthened his resolve. The boys on his team deserved more guidance than he’d had when he’d been their age.
“Going round and round like this isn’t helpful,” the athletic director said, tension thick in his voice. “Coach, go ahead and tell us your thoughts. Clearly you’ve already got a punishment in mind.”
“I do.” Jackson paused, jaw set with determination as he scanned the room, meeting each person’s gaze. “Those boys broke the team’s honor code. Hazing has no place whatsoever on this team. Not only did they put their team member in the hospital, but their actions were intentional and brazen. They wore their team jerseys, and the incident took place on school property.”
No one else uttered a word, but out of the corner of his eye, Jackson thought he spotted Principal Dean giving a small, almost imperceptible nod.
He took a deep breath. “This isn’t just about winning games. It’s about building character. I’m suspending Stokes, Collier and Brown from the team for the rest of the season.”
“For therest of the season?” Earl Whitaker flew to hisfeet, nearly knocking his chair over in the process. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Jackson, you do realize that those boys are seniors, right? They’re graduating this year. All three hope to play in college,” the athletic director said.
“I’m aware.” Jackson offered the man a tight-lipped smile. “And you may call me Coach Knight.”
“Not anymore.” Earl plopped back down in his seat and turned furious eyes on Jackson. “Either reverse your decision, or you’re out.”
“If I may…” Coach Simmons cleared his throat. “If Coach Knight is no longer willing to heed the wishes of the Victory Club, I’m ready and willing to step in as head coach. Stokes, Collier and Brown will, of course, be permitted to play. I’m sure I can come up with an alternative form of punishment.”
Not so fast, Simmons.
Jackson’s mouth curved into an overly solicitous smile. “That’s awfully kind of you, Coach. But the Victory Club can’t fire me. No one can—not quite yet.”
“What are you talking about? Yes, we can. We pay your salary. Did you really think the school district could come up with such an outrageous sum on its own?” Earl snorted. “Your employment contract states we can terminate you mid-season. You’re fired, Coach. Deal with it.”
Jackson remained perfectly calm, despite the rising sense of antagonism on the other side of the table. “Have you actually read the contract? Because that’s not what it says.”
Thank goodness for Bishop. If it hadn’t been for that wheezing bundle of neediness, Jackson never would’ve pored over the terms of his employment agreement. In hissearch for the mascot-caretaking clause, he’d stumbled upon a few other interesting tidbits. When he’d returned from visiting Tommy at the hospital yesterday, he’d reread it just to be sure.
