“No wonder Schuler’s own son—”
Rachel dropped her fork and it clanged so loud everybody jumped, and Big Mouth actually shut up for a second.
“Ain’t it funny,” Rachel said aloud, “how the dumbest people always have the most to say?”
Coach stared at her with admiration, and Brian looked like he was about to burst out laughing. Andy Gordon’s chair scraped the floor and he stood. “You ought to teach your daughter to keep her mouth shut!”
I swallowed. There’s a limit to what a man will take, and Mr. Gordon had just stepped past mine. I’ve had laid-off workers and their families call me everything in the book, but you say something about Rachel, you’re gonna answer to me.
My heart was racing, and as I stood, so did Brian, but Coach stopped him with a gesture and he sat back down. Now all I could see was Andy Gordon’s sneer. “Maybe you ought to watch your mouth,” I said, and he stood there with his eyes locked on mine, hands on his hips. I’m afraid what I mighta done to him if he’d made a move.
Coach stood and whispered, “Sit down now, Sawyer. This is not the place for this.”
He gave me an out, and I took it. But he wasn’t finished with Mr. Gordon. “You know, Andy, if your boy had the fight you had twenty-five years ago, he’d still be on my team.”
“My son belongs on that football team!” Andy’s voice was shaky. “You just cost him his only chance at a scholarship.”
“Oh, now there it is!” Coach said. “The trouble with you people is that you see me, you see this team, as a gate to greener pastures. But until you succeed right here, you don’t deserve greener pastures. Your boy and I have different definitions of success. And I see where he got his.”
Mr. Gordon slapped a bill on the table and walked out, Abel rising slowly to follow. He stopped halfway out and came back to get Josie, who sat there with a red face, tears streaming. As she stood she looked at Rachel. “This is why I hate football,” she said.
• • •
That afternoon in the fading twilight, Coach and I stood facing the fifteen remaining players. They looked scared. On the way out, Coach had told me to say something inspirational.
“Inspirational?” I said.
“You teach Sunday school, don’t ya? Give em something from one a your classes, then I’ll take over.”
“Thanks for the time to think about it.”
“More time I give you, Sawyer, the more you worry and look for reasons to get out of it.”
I couldn’t argue that. And now we were standing there, and he was looking at me. “Boys,” I said, “Gideon went to war against an army of thousands with only three hundred soldiers, because they were the only men with the guts to fight and win.”
As if we’d rehearsed it, Buster took over. “I can go to war with even less than what’s right here in front of me. So if any of you are afraid of getting hurt, or of losing, you can leave right now.”
They sat still except for Elvis Jackson, who got up off the bench and slipped past Coach and me. He stopped on the field, jamming on his helmet and fastening the strap.
Coach came alive. “You know, that’s just what I thought! There is not one quitter on this team! Now the last one off this bench is gonna run laps. Let’s go!”
The rest leaped up and whooped and hollered. They gathered around Coach and he barked assignments. He told Brian, “Outside linebacker,” and Elvis, “Safety.”
As Coach continued through the group, Brian edged up to Elvis and pressed his facemask against his. “It’s gonna take more than speed now, boy. You’re gonna have to show some brains.”
“Just call my number,” Elvis said.
Coach finished and noticed Snoot Nino off to the side, sitting on his helmet.
“Snoot,” he yelled. “C’mere boy!”
Snoot trotted over, but Coach reminded him, “Bring your helmet.”
As Snoot was strapping it on, Coach said, “Outside line-backer and wide receiver.”
Snoot shot him a double take. “You saying I’m gonna play? I mean, during the first three downs?”
Buster put a hand on either side of Snoot’s helmet and pulled him close. “It’s time to run with the big dawgs, son.”
“But, Coach, I’m a kicker. I just kick.”
“You line up on the outside, and if someone throws the ball, you catch it. Now, go!”
He turned to the rest of the team, held his hand out, and said, “Get a paw in! On three, Crusaders! One, two, three!” And I swear I saw more emotion in those fifteen guys than I’d ever seen on a full team anywhere.
• • •
I wished I could’ve told Bev about it. I spent time outside her door again, wanting her to wake up so bad I could taste it.
When I got home Rachel said Elvis had told her at school that none of the guys thought they’d win another game with just fifteen players.
I nodded. “Probably can’t, but like you said, Coach did the right thing, so all we can do is the best we can.” I thought a second. “How much are you seeing of Elvis?”
She looked at me funny. “Just around school. You know I’ll tell you if I start seeing anybody serious.”
I nodded.
“Mr. Kennedy called, looking for Coach.”
“He’s probably at the rehab center. What’d Kennedy want?”
She shrugged.
A few minutes later Coach called. “Kennedy get hold of you?” I said.
“That’s why I’m calling. School board had a meeting tonight and wanted me there. Glad I was unavailable. They want to meet after school tomorrow in the gym.”
“No practice?”
“Right. And what does meeting in the gym tell you? Bet everybody’ll be there.”
24
Word got around about the meeting, especially when practice was canceled, and the team wanted to be there. Coach told em absolutely not. He was sure some of the kicked off players would be there, and he knew a lot of their parents would be. Sherman Naters told him, “We don’t have to be afraid of them. They’re the ones who don’t fight.”
I was frustrated to where I wanted to burst. Only place I wanted to be was the hospital. Rachel said she’d go. “I thought I’d have to talk you out of going to the big board meeting,” I said.
“Nah,” she said. “They don’t come to mine, I don’t go to theirs. Remember every detail though, Daddy. Oh, I can’t stay long at the hospital either because of a project.”
I made the mistake of asking her if the project included Elvis Jackson. She held up a hand and looked me in the face. “Daddy, you’ve got to stop this. I would not be seeing a boy without you knowing it, and certainly not Elvis. If I tell you I’m running errands or on a project, then that’s what I’m doing. You used to trust me.”
“I’m sorry, honey,” I said. “I still do. It’s just that I know he’s got to be interested in you unless he’s blind.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“Anyway, he’s not our kind of a kid.”
“What does that mean?”
“You said yourself he’s not a Christian.”
“He’s more than not a Christian, Dad. He’s anti-everything about it.”
• • •
I was amazed how different the gym looked for the emergency board meeting from what it had looked like for Rachel’s save-the-school deal—no posters and no big flag. And Coach was right. There were lots a parents there, and they weren’t happy.
The board sat at a straight table in front of everybody, and the five men and two ladies, plus their attorney—Mr. Callman, shared four microphones. “We have just one agenda item, Mr. Schuler,” Fred Kennedy said, getting right to it. “We’re directing you to reinstate the thirty-three football players you suspended Friday night.”
Buster, next to me on the front row, stood. “Is there some reason this directive could not have come to me in private or by phone?”
“I’ll take responsibility for that, Coach,” Kennedy said, and he was squirmi
ng. “I don’t guess I figured you’d obey.”
“And you thought by trying to embarrass me in public in front of the parents of the very boys you say I suspended, you’d get a different reaction to your directive?”
Kennedy started to answer, but Freda Slater, taking notes at the far end of the table, interrupted him. “Excuse me, Mr. Schuler,” she said, “but are you implying that you did not suspend these players?”
“More than implying, ma’am. I did not suspend them.”
“Then perhaps the reason for this meeting is moot.”
“Perhaps.”
“So they’re back on the team?” Kennedy said. “This was just a temporary disciplinary measure?”
“Would that be acceptable?” Coach said, surprising the life outa me.
Kennedy looked like he could breathe again and started gathering his stuff like he was ready to adjourn and go home. “Absolutely,” he said. “Everyone agree?”
The board members and the attorney nodded and a few parents even clapped.
“So you’re saying,” Coach said, “that if I suspended em for a coupla days, that’s okay, but if I expelled em from the team, that’s not okay.”
Kennedy looked up and down the table. “Yes,” he said, but he was kinda tentative, like he was afraid of some kinda trap.
“Well, then,” Coach said, “you might want to deal with the fact that I did not suspend these boys. I booted em.”
Kennedy cleared his throat. “You heard our directive.”
“I heard you agree they deserved discipline.”
Kennedy sighed. “It’s wrong to fight, Coach Schuler. And thus it’s wrong to be kicked off a team for not fighting.”
“You said yourself the boys who watched were in the wrong.”
“I, we, said nothing of the sort.”
“I thought you just finished telling me that if I suspended em that was okay.”
“Yes, but—”
“So you agree they were wrong and needed discipline.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Mr. Schuler.
I—” “I misunderstood you then, sir?”
“No, I—”
“So we’re just debating the severity of the punishment?”
“Well, yes, I suppose.”
“All due respect, sir, but my contract calls for autonomy in dealing with discipline on my team, even to the point of dismissing players.”
Kennedy glanced at the board again. “Anyone have a copy of Coach Schuler’s contract handy?” They shook their heads, including Attorney Callman. “Not having it in front of me, sir, I’d have to review that, but regardless—”
“Mr. Kennedy, are you telling me you asked me to cancel practice for my very shorthanded team to discuss my employment, yet you did not come prepared with a copy of my contract?”
“The purpose of this meeting was not to discuss your employment, Coach. It was to direct you to—”
“It’s not? If I disobey your directive, you’re not gonna take action on my employment?”
“We did not expect you to be insubordinate.”
“According to my contract, you are in violation of our agreement; I’m not.”
“Sir?”
“You’re overruling my contract, usurping my authority to carry out discipline. Can the county afford the lawsuit I would file if you continue in this?”
Kennedy huddled with Callman. “To clarify, Coach,” he said, looking grave, “if we force you to reinstate these players, you would quit?”
“Oh, no, sir.”
“Then we understand each other. For you to continue in your current role, you are directed to put those players back on your team.”
“I respectfully decline.”
“Then we will be forced to ask for your resignation.”
“Then I will be forced to sue for breach of contract.”
The crowd murmured, and Kennedy asked for another few minutes with the attorney. When he turned back, he asked, “Mr. Schuler, did you bring a copy of your contract?”
“I would never start a game without a game plan.”
“May we review it, please?”
Coach pulled his contract from inside his sport coat and delivered it to the table. Kennedy and Callman sat close, looking at it together. Coach said, “Page four, paragraph six, sub point B.”
They passed the contract to other board members while Kennedy and the attorney whispered. Callman looked like he was really trying to be persuasive, and finally Kennedy announced, “We’d like a five-minute recess to confer as a board.”
I half expected people to come up to Coach during the break and tell him that they either hated his guts or they were standing with him. But nobody did. I said, “What do you think’s gonna happen?”
“Truthfully? I think I’m gonna get fired.”
“Can they do that?”
“I’d beat em in court eventually, but Athens City would be merged with Rock Hill by then. What would that get me but a lot of expense and lost time?”
I hoped the board was wondering the same thing.
When Mr. Kennedy took the floor again, he said, “Mr. Schuler, we appreciate your helping us clarify this issue. We have acted with advice of counsel as follows. Miz Slater?”
She stood and read from her steno pad: “Moved by Mr. Little, seconded by Miss Jarvis, and carried unanimously that Mr. Kennedy be authorized to respectfully ask that Coach Buster Schuler consider the board’s most earnest and sincere request that he reinstate to the Athens City High School varsity football team all thirty-three players dismissed Friday, September 14, 2001.”
She sat and Kennedy stood. “Would you do me that personal honor, Coach Schuler?”
“Of considering your request? I surely will.”
“And when might we expect the courtesy of your decision?”
“Oh, forgive me,” Coach said, “but I didn’t hear in that motion a requirement to report back.”
Kennedy scowled and bent to Callman, who whispered to him. When the board chairman straightened again, he said, “I’m asking as a personal favor that you would report your decision to me within twenty-four hours. Can you do that?”
“Certainly. I can even save you the mystery and the time. I appreciate your couching your counsel in the form of a request rather than an illegal directive. In light of that, I’m happy to report that I’ve considered your request and will not be complying with it.”
“Mr. Schuler!”
“I will, however, continue with utmost diligence to perform my duties as contracted and assigned. I will, to the best of my ability, make my priority educating and shaping young lives while hopefully also building a winning team that will make this city and this county and the school board proud.”
“Now, Buster—”
“And I would also like to earnestly request that the board and parents and students—regardless whether they agree with my decisions—would do me the personal honor of continuing to support this team by showing up at the games and rallying behind the boys.”
Someone yelled from the crowd, “I’ll save you the mystery! Forget it!”
People laughed and applauded. “Well, that’s fair enough,” Coach said. “At least both sides got to put in their respectful requests. Now if there isn’t anything further, I have a big day tomorrow.”
A board member mumbled, “Move that we adjourn,” but before Mr. Kennedy could even ask for a second or a vote, the board up and left. The crowd mostly booed. I asked Buster if he wanted to skip out the side door.
“They can mob me there as well as here,” he said. “Let’s go. Heads high.”
We walked out with everybody else, and scared as I was, I noticed no one had the guts to confront Coach. Mostly they ignored us or talked to each other loud enough for us to hear. When we drove off, Buster let out a big breath and said, “I didn’t know if I’d be back or not.”
Rachel was already home when I got there. I told her about Coach’s bluff and she smiled. “He’s t
aking a lot a heat at school. Kids think he’s lost his mind. There’s gonna be petitions, kids boycotting the games, all that. There’s gonna be a small crowd at homecoming.”
“Too bad. First league game. Dickinson’s gonna be tough.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Well, figure the Shermanater’s ma and her boyfriend, and that’s three. How much noise can y’all make?”
25
Mr. Raschke slept most of the next afternoon in the waiting room. His wife, after thanking me too many times for their airline tickets, spent most of her time in with Bev. I was still not allowed in her ICU room, but through the glass wall I saw her with her eyes open for just a few minutes when she talked to her mama some. I wished I was in there, but when Mrs. Raschke took a break, she told me Bev wasn’t making sense anyway. “Couldn’t understand a thing,” she said. “I don’t think she even knew she was talking to me.”
“Does she know I’m here?” I said.
“I thought she knew that already, Mr. Sawyer. I didn’t say anything. I don’t believe she was really awake anyway.”
Rachel showed up after school and Mrs. Raschke held her close. “I’ll never forget somebody singing that old Jimmie Rodgers song at your mama’s funeral and you crying your eyes out, poor thing.” Then she broke down for the first time and I figured she was remembering her own daughter as a little girl.
The floor nurse joined us and said, “The doctor is hopeful the repair procedure was successful and they won’t have to go in again. They don’t expect her to be lucid until about midday tomorrow, but barring any other complications, she should be out of the woods.”
I was so relieved I could hardly speak. “What about out of the hospital?”
“That may be another week, and she’ll need bed rest at home too. But they’re optimistic, provided she has a restful night and everything stays positive.”
I thanked her and turned away. It’d been a long, long time since I’d cried. Rachel had to notice, but she didn’t say anything. “God still answers,” I said. She nodded.
• • •
I didn’t know for sure when Bev would be conscious and really out of danger, but we had to talk. At least I did. Only thing I was afraid of was that maybe she hadn’t really told Kim she cared for me. Maybe Kim was just assuming based on somethin else Bev said. What if I went telling her I realized I loved her and it sent her back into a coma?
Hometown Legend Page 13
