Page 77 of Hometown Touchdown
I glance at him over my coffee, heart so full I can barely hold it.
Maybe we’re not shouting this to the world yet. Maybe it still feels new and fragile. But here in my kitchen, over eggs and toast and coffee made just right, I don’t feel broken. I feel like I’m being built again. Piece by piece.
And Knox? He’s the safest place I’ve ever landed.
Chapter thirty-nine
Knox
Thursday’swalk-throughalwaysfeelslike a breath held tight. Not because it’s intense, Thursday isn’t about intensity. It’s not about drills or contact. There’s no tackling, no pads. Just helmets, cleats, and muscle memory. Like a dress rehearsal with a football.
The guys move fast. Every rep is quick and clean. Scripted to the second. We start with kickoff return, move through offensive sets against air, then defensive alignment. Transitions. Sub packages. Substitutions. Special teams. Everything timed,everything flowing. Every move we’ll make tomorrow, run now like we mean it.
The field’s quiet in a focused kind of way. The bleachers are mostly empty except for one dad with a long-lens camera and a pair of JV kids studying us like it’s their future. The sun’s sinking low, turning the helmets to gold. There’s no yelling today. Just clipped commands and steady nods. Everyone knows what’s at stake.
I stand near the sideline, headset hanging around my neck even though it’s not plugged in. Cam’s tossing light spirals, and I keep my eyes on the tempo. A late sub. A slow shift. I bark, “Reset it! Again!”
The offense hustles back into formation. No arguing. Just execution. That’s what today’s about.
And when the script is done—when we’ve walked through every phase of the game and I’m satisfied the timing’s tight—I blow the whistle and call them in.
“Take a knee.”
Helmets gleam in the under the lights as they drop where they stand, jerseys damp with sweat. Some are breathing heavily. Others are bouncing knees with nervous energy. But they’re listening.
I walk into the center of the huddle and let the quiet sit for a beat.
“You’ve worked your asses off all season,” I say, my voice calm. “You’ve earned this game. You’ve earned the right to walk onto that field tomorrow night like you belong there.”
A few heads nod. Mac shifts forward, forearms resting on his knees.
“I know it’s homecoming. I know the stands’ll be packed. Your classmates. Your families. Probably some guy who graduated in ’09 and still wears his letterman like it’s formal wear.”
A ripple of laughter breaks the tension. Good. They needed that.
“But this game isn’t just about who’s watching. It’s about who’s been showing up. The parents who sat through every rain delay. The siblings who’ve got your number written on their cheek in glitter. The grandparents who haven’t missed a game since we had real grass on this field.”
They smile now. Hopefully, the nerves are changing into something stronger.
“You don’t win this one for me. Or for a college scout. Or for a highlight reel. You win it for each other. For the jersey you wear. For the name on the front and the people in the stands who yell themselves hoarse because they believe in you, no matter what the scoreboard says.”
I lower to one knee, eye level with the circle.
“You don’t have to be perfect tomorrow. But you better show up. Every snap. Every series. Every second.”
I scan their faces, dirt-smudged, serious, and ready.
“You’re not just football players. You’re Cedar Falls. So tomorrow night? You go out there and remind this town why we love this game. Why we show up. Why we care.”
For a second, there’s nothing but the sound of the wind shifting through the chain-link.
Then someone claps.
Another joins in. And soon the whole team is rising to their feet, quiet applause giving way to nods, handshakes, shoulder slaps.
No speeches. No shouting. Just that grounded confidence that says—we’re ready.
I stand, watching them head toward the locker room, helmets swinging from their fingers. Cam jogs over to collect the script and tosses me a grin. Ty cracks a joke from the sideline. A couplelinemen linger, talking over their first series like it’s already happening.
