Backfield Boys

by John Feinstein

  He was close to cracking.

  Tom sensed it, which only made him want to press harder. “So you want people to change partners, is that it, Mr. Gatch?”

  The smile came back. “Correct, Mr. Jefferson. It’s very simple and very easy.”

  “No problem, then,” Tom said.

  He hoped the others would pick up on his cue. He walked over to where Hope and Anthony were standing and took Hope’s hand.

  “May I have this dance?” Tom asked her.

  Anthony didn’t miss a beat, moving quickly (for a big guy) to Toni and posing the same question to her.

  Jason and Billy Bob were right behind: Jason walked Heather over to Billy Bob and took Zoey by the hand. If this bothered the girls, they didn’t show it. They had seen what was going on just as clearly as the boys had, and they were just as upset, if not more so.

  Tom turned to Mr. Gatch. “Okay, we’ve all changed partners, sir,” he said. “Can we start the music again now?”

  Tom thought he could see steam coming from Mr. Gatch’s ears.

  The head-of-school spoke slowly, his voice rising in anger quickly. “At my school, when I give an order, it is meant to be followed,” he said. “It is not meant to be circumvented or ridiculed or … trivialized!” His face was turning red.

  “Mr. Gatch, with all due respect, you said everyone needed to change partners,” Billy Bob said. “That’s exactly what we’re doin’ right now.”

  “No it’s not!” Gatch said. He was yelling now, and Tom could see baffled looks on the faces of a lot of the other dancers.

  “What exactly did you mean, Mr. Gatch?” Tom said, trying to sound casual. “How exactly did we misunderstand you?”

  “You didn’t misunderstand, Jefferson,” Gatch said, advancing on Tom, pointing a finger. “I … I will tolerate your presence in this school but I will not stand here and watch you blatantly break the rules.”

  “What rules are we breaking by dancing, Mr. Gatch?” Tom said, standing his ground even though he could feel his legs quaking a little bit underneath him. He sensed that Mr. Gatch was close to telling him he couldn’t handle the truth. This certainly wasn’t the time to back down.

  “The rules of common decency!” Gatch roared. “Good God, do you expect me to just stand here and watch while you paw this beautiful young girl? And you, Ms. Andrews, and you, Ms. Kaufman, have you no shame at all?”

  The looks on most of the students’ faces were now almost identical: jaws were dropping. Even Trey Broussard looked confused.

  It was Zoey who spoke next. Clearly, she had figured out what was going on. “What about us, Mr. Gatch?” she said. “Should Heather and I be ashamed for getting ‘pawed’?”

  Mr. Gatch looked at her, then at Jason. “From you, I’m not surprised,” he said, pointing to Jason. Then, whirling on Billy Bob, he said: “But you, Anderson? A good Southern, churchgoing young man? What is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing is wrong with me, Mr. Gatch,” Billy Bob said. “But clearly, something’s wrong with you.”

  And that was when Zoey surprised them all. She walked a few steps over to Billy Bob, leaned down, and gave him a long kiss on the lips. “Thank you,” she mouthed as she pulled her head back and the room erupted in a mix of cheers and jeers.

  Too late, coaches and teachers were now moving in, trying to steer Mr. Gatch off the dance floor. Coach Ingelsby and Coach Reilly each had him by an arm and were trying, as gently as possible, to get him away before he could say anything more.

  “Let’s get some air, Mr. Gatch,” Coach Ingelsby said.

  Gatch was taking really deep breaths now, looking around as if uncertain what to do next. He glared one last time at Tom and Anthony, who were now standing next to each other.

  “We let you people into this school because you can perform on the field,” Gatch said, now being half dragged by the two coaches but still shouting to be heard. “That does not give you the right to interfere with the white girls from decent homes who come to this school. I have to answer to their parents!”

  Tom knew there was no need to say anything else. So did Anthony. Everyone was staring at Mr. Gatch, clearly in shock. The head-of-school opened his mouth one more time to speak. This time, Coach Ingelsby clapped his hand over it, muffling him. Then, he and Coach Reilly lifted Mr. Gatch off his feet and, between them, carried him from the room.

  Yes, it turned out, Mr. Gatch had ordered the Code Red. Without intending to get him to admit to it, Tom, Jason, and their friends had gotten him to do so. All they’d had to do was dance. Everyone stared after the two coaches and the still-struggling head-of-school in silence.

  Thomas Alan Gatch had left the building.

  27

  For several long seconds, everyone in the room stared at the door that Mr. Gatch had exited from or, more accurately, been carried through.

  “What now?” Jason asked, still in a little bit of shock.

  Tom, though, felt completely calm. Gatch hadn’t said, I will never allow my head football coach to play an African American at quarterback, but he’d said more than enough. They had him. Now they had to figure out how to finish him.

  “We gotta get in touch with Teel and Robinson right away,” Tom said. “We have to make sure they’re on this before Mr. Gatch and his people begin to try to spin it.”

  “Spin it?” Billy Bob said. “How can they possibly spin what just happened—in front of a hundred-plus witnesses?”

  “Half these people will insist it didn’t happen,” Tom said. “And the other half may be afraid to go on the record.”

  “Impossible,” Jason said. “I mean—”

  He was interrupted by several of their teammates walking into their little circle, clearly angry.

  “What the hell was that all about?” Ronnie Thompson said. “What were you guys trying to pull?”

  The quarterback had plenty of backup (Tom couldn’t help but think that Thompson always seemed to need backup, on or off the field): other football players and guys from other teams nodding in agreement. Almost all of them, Tom noticed, were guys—there were only a couple of girls in the group. All were white.

  “What do you mean what are we trying to pull?” Billy Bob answered. “We were all just trying to dance. Is there something wrong with that?”

  “You know exactly what was wrong, frosh,” Chuck VanDorn, one of the starting linebackers, said.

  “What’s your point, VanDorn?” Anthony said.

  “Where we come from, there are lines you don’t cross,” VanDorn said. “You ought to know that, Anderson.”

  “You may be an Alabama boy just like me,” Billy Bob said, “but I got no idea where you come from.”

  VanDorn apparently didn’t like that answer, because he took a step in Billy Bob’s direction, a fist cocked. He never got there, because Anthony stepped in his path.

  “You don’t want to do this, VanDorn,” he said. “None of you want to do this. What’s the deal—you guys behind Mr. Gatch? Seriously?”

  VanDorn was a big guy, probably about six foot three and 220 rock-hard pounds. But he wanted no part of Anthony. Once he backed down, things began to calm. There were a couple more shouted insults, but the crowd began to disperse.

  Someone apparently told the band to start playing again, and they chose something slow. A few kids started dancing, but almost everyone else either stood around whispering about what had happened or headed for the door.

  Zoey, Heather, Hope, and Toni were all still standing there, quizzical looks on their faces.

  “Okay,” Zoey said. “What just happened here?”

  “Come on,” Tom said. “Let’s all go for a walk.”

  * * *

  They heard a few more barbs on the way to the door but kept moving, except a couple of times when Anthony slowed as if he was going to respond. That shut the talkers up quickly.

  Once they were outside, they walked for a while to find a quiet spot to sit down. They ended up back on the same benches wher
e Zoey had told them about the dance a week earlier. Tom recounted the entire story, starting with the first practice. The other three filled in details at different times as the four girls sat and listened, their mouths dropping a little more with each damning detail.

  “So Mr. Gatch just walked into a trap you hadn’t even set yet,” Zoey said.

  Tom shrugged. “Pretty much,” he said.

  “What happens next?” Toni said.

  Jason held up his phone. “I just texted Teel and Robinson while we were talking. They’re both in Blacksburg tonight covering Virginia Tech’s game against North Carolina. They’re gonna drive up here in the morning so we can walk them through what just happened in person.”

  “How are they going to do that?” Zoey asked. “You know they’ll shut the campus down to the media and you guys won’t be allowed to leave.”

  “Already thought of that,” Tom said. “All four of us will be going to church tomorrow—even Jason, the godless Jew. Billy Bob and Anthony say that no one ever bothers to check who gets on the bus for which church. Why would they? Teel and Robinson will meet us at Saint Michael’s. Then they’ll drive us back afterward. The guard on the gate won’t know we left without permission; they’ll wave ’em through.”

  “Didn’t I hear that you guys are already on some kind of double-secret probation?” Heather asked. “Aren’t you risking getting expelled if you get caught?”

  Billy Bob laughed out loud. “You don’t think we’re not going to get expelled after tonight?”

  “Actually, our only chance to stay—if we want to—is probably to get the story out in public,” Anthony said. “Once the media gets involved, it will be hard for the administration to kick us out.”

  Tom nodded. “Agreed. Like I said inside, they’re going to try to claim it was all a misunderstanding. I’m not sure how they’re going to do that, but that’s what they’ll do. It’s the only way Mr. Gatch can survive.”

  “What do you mean survive?” Hope said. “He owns the school.”

  “Yeah, but if this story gets out and the school can’t recruit a single African American athlete going forward, what are the chances it’s worth anything in a couple of years?” Tom answered. “What are the chances, if the story’s true, that he’s able to sell it and get a job fund-raising at Alabama?”

  Jason’s cell phone pinged. He looked at it, then held it up.

  “The reporters will be at the church at nine-thirty,” he said. “They’ll park on the side.”

  “That’s perfect,” Billy Bob said. “There’s a side door not that far from the bathroom. We hit the head while everyone’s walking inside and duck out after the service starts.”

  “I’ll be in church,” Zoey said. “I’ll text you if I see anybody looking interested when you disappear.”

  “You’ll let us know what happens as soon as you get back?” Toni asked.

  “Absolutely,” Tom said.

  “For sure,” Anthony added, smiling. “If we get back.”

  * * *

  There were no issues getting on the bus in the morning. There were three buses that went to St. Michael’s, the Catholic church, and the boys and Zoey boarded the last one.

  Once the bus was moving, though, the trouble began.

  Seeing Jason sitting next to Billy Bob, Ronnie Thompson turned in his seat and said, “Hey, Roddin, what’s a Hebrew doing going to church?”

  They’d been prepared for someone asking the question.

  “I’m thinking about converting,” Jason said. He had sat next to Billy Bob, away from Zoey, specifically to make it look like they were on a buddy-outing together.

  Thompson’s eyes narrowed for a moment. Then he looked at Tom, sitting with Anthony. “And you, Jefferson?”

  “Same here,” Tom said cheerily.

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with what you guys tried to pull last night, does it?” asked Trey Broussard, the basketball player whose attempted cut-in on Tom and Toni had started everything the night before.

  “What’d we try to pull, Broussard?” Anthony said.

  “You know,” Broussard said.

  “It’s the Lord’s day, Trey,” Billy Bob said. “How about giving it a rest?”

  Invoking the Almighty seemed to do the trick. They rode in silence for the rest of the trip.

  Once they arrived, they joined the people trickling into the church. The boys followed Billy Bob into a pew at the very back corner.

  After sitting in silence for a while, Jason said in a stage whisper loud enough to be heard eight rows ahead, “Hey, where’s the bathroom?”

  “Come on,” Billy Bob said. “I’ll show you.”

  They walked down the side aisle together, disappearing through a door beneath a statue of Mary holding the baby Jesus in her lap.

  Ten minutes later, with the pews now crammed with congregants, Tom and Anthony pulled the same routine.

  “Come on,” Anthony said, hauling himself up. “Don’t want you climbing over people once we start.”

  They walked out, Anthony nodding hello to various members of the congregation as they went, and Tom caught Zoey’s eye across the center aisle.

  After Anthony led them through a maze of back hallways, they walked out the side door, where they saw Robinson waiting a few yards away. Teel had already left with Jason and Billy Bob.

  So much, Tom thought, for Jason’s Catholic education.

  * * *

  It was early enough when they got to the Biltmore that the place was half-empty.

  Tom had mustered all his self-control to keep from telling Robinson during the car ride what had happened at the dance. He had settled for “You’re gonna be amazed.”

  As they sat down, Robinson told the boys that brunch was his treat.

  They all ordered—Tom asking for steak and eggs because he had skipped breakfast and was starving—and then Teel said, “So I understand you guys have got news.”

  They took turns, occasionally talking over one another. But as the story came out, Teel’s and Robinson’s eyes grew wider and wider. When the boys finally finished describing Mr. Gatch literally being carried out of the gym by the two football coaches, Teel leaned back in his seat and said softly, “Oh my God.”

  Robinson looked at the four of them and said, “Are you sure you’re all only fourteen?”

  “Actually I’ll be fifteen next week,” Billy Bob said.

  Everyone laughed.

  “The question is, what do we do next?” Robinson said.

  Tom was baffled. “You write the story, right?” he said.

  “It’s not quite that simple,” Teel said. “Before we write, we have to at least attempt to get Mr. Gatch to tell his side of it. We also have to talk to the four girls, and we have to try to get some of the other witnesses at the dance to go on the record.”

  “The girls will talk to you, I’m sure of that,” Jason said. “Not so sure about anyone else.”

  “There must have been some kids recording the whole thing on their cell phones,” Teel said.

  Tom shook his head. “We weren’t allowed to use cell phones at the dance, remember? I think they wanted to be sure everyone ‘socialized.’ Teachers and coaches had cell phones, and there were a couple of photographers and a videographer there to record all the merriment.”

  “We should find out who the videographer was and see what he might have,” Teel said.

  Tom shook his head again. “She, not he. It was Mrs. Gatch.”

  “Ouch,” Robinson said. “Plus, chances are good Mr. Gatch will duck us when we try to get a comment from him. He may hide behind the ‘It’s a private school, and what happens on our campus stays private’ excuse.”

  Tom was a little exasperated. “We got him,” he said. “He did everything but call Anthony and me the n-word.”

  Teel made a palms-down sign.

  “Easy, Tom,” he said. “We’ve got him. He’s going down. But we have to do it right. When we publish, the story has to be thorough,
complete, and—above all—fair. That might take a little while, but we’ll get it done.”

  “How long do you think it’ll take?” Billy Bob asked.

  “Hard to say,” Teel said. “We’re both going to have to get our editors to free us up for the next few days. That shouldn’t be a problem. It could take a day; it could take a week.”

  “A week!” Tom said. “Do you know what the next week might be like for us? We’re already supposed to be running in the mornings starting tomorrow. Now we’re going to be outcasts with a lot of people at the school.”

  “Like we aren’t already?” Jason asked.

  “You’ll also be a hero with some people,” Robinson said.

  “Not with any of our coaches,” Anthony said.

  “Look, if it gets really bad, you let us know,” Teel said. “We can rattle their cages in some way if we have to.”

  “How?” they all asked.

  Teel smiled. “I’m not sure, but we’ll figure something out.”

  “That’s encouraging,” Billy Bob said.

  Tom’s stomach felt a little queasy. And it wasn’t because he’d wolfed down his food. “This is going to be a long week,” he said.

  “You can bail if you want to,” Robinson said. “We can probably take the story from here. You can call your parents and go home right now. No one would blame you.”

  Tom and Jason exchanged glances, and then all four boys looked at one another.

  “Anyone want out?” Tom said.

  There was silence.

  Finally, Anthony spoke up. “Well, let’s eat, drink, and be merry…”

  “For tomorrow we die,” Billy Bob said.

  “The Bible quote again?” Jason asked.

  “It’s actually a combination of several different Bible quotes, and may not mean what you think it does,” Billy Bob said.

  “Perfect,” Jason said. “My religious education continues.”

  28

  The four boys had no problems getting back on campus. When the two cars pulled up to the guard gate, they got out and walked through without so much as a question being asked.

  “Maybe they’ve closed down the school,” Tom joked.