I laugh, not admitting that despite what the school administration may say, that tradition still existed. We just knew that certain guys, the pussies who'd go bitching to their parents or something, we didn't touch. "What, did Dad get you?"
“He did. I was proud as shit to have been ripped by Randy Wood. It was like getting a rub from a superstar, if you can dig it. So of course, I watched Randy's career as he left Silver Lake Falls to go play college ball. I even wore his number when I went up to varsity, although by then, he'd already started to fizzle out."
"What happened?" I ask, caught up despite myself. "What happened to him?”
"First, Nebraska happened in his freshman year. This was back in the Tom Osborne days, when those corn-fed boys were some of the baddest defenders in the entire country. Your Dad got beaten harder than I've ever seen a quarterback get beat down. Randy should have been taken out in the second quarter after taking a blindside sack, but he came out to start the third quarter after the second-and third-string QBs got sent to the hospital in the time he was down."
I shake my head, not believing it. “Is this is the part where you tell me that Dad led a comeback for the ages and they beat Nebraska? Then tell me it was all a bunch of bullshit?”
"Beat Nebraska?" Coach says, barking a laugh. "That year, Nebraska went twelve and one. No, Randy took a beating so hard that even the refs were trying to help him by the end, letting the Texas guys hold the fuck outta Nebraska just to slow them down. He didn't complete a pass the entire second half, and the rest of the season, he was a shattered shell of what he could have been. It was during the offseason that he started hitting the bottle, I heard, and by the time I was ready to graduate high school, he'd been kicked out of Texas and was back in town, a fading king already, trying to live off the last vestiges of his glory."
"Then he knocked up Mom," I groan, "and I ruin it the rest of the way for him."
"Don't you ever say that about yourself, Troy," Coach seethes, and I see real fire in his eyes. "You, despite all the flaws you've got—I know about almost all of them. We teachers aren't quite as stupid as you students seem to think we are. You're a better man at your age than Randy Wood ever was. I'd like to think I've had a hand with that, even if you aren't as good a quarterback as he was."
I nod, looking out on the field. "So what now?"
Coach stands up and brushes off his pants. "Well, first you're going to follow me to my house. My wife had plans for a pancake brunch, and that’s probably going to be a lot better for you than that old pizza you've got sitting in your backseat. Not a good idea, by the way, unless you're trying to get yourself a case of food poisoning. And I'm going to overlook the fact that the polo you're wearing right now and the pizza in your seat are from the same restaurant, and if I poked around more, I'd find a paystub from that place in your pocket most likely. How long's that been going on, Troy?"
"Three years," I admit. "But until this year, I only did it in the offseason. Honest, Coach. The owner thinks I'm older. I kinda need the money."
He nods. "If it were up to me, I'd . . . well, I'd do things that would get me fired and you declared ineligible for the NCAA, so I’d better not. But I can have a student over for a meal and tutoring, so that's what I'm doing. As for Randy, if he lays a hand on you again—and don't tell me that black eye you sported earlier this week was because of that new girl you're seeing—I’m stepping in. I won't have you risk your future being hijacked by his past and his inner demons."
We leave the stands, and in the parking lot, Coach turns to look at me. "When we get to my house, take about twenty minutes to take a shower, too. You smell like football stadium and old pizza. Not good, especially if you've got yourself a new girl. What's her name? Whitney?"
"Yeah," I admit. "Whitney Nelson."
"I taught her in American history last year," Coach tells me, smiling. "Nice girl. You could do a lot worse. But we'll talk about that later."
Chapter 7
Whitney
"And in second place . . . Whitney Nelson!"
The crowd in the stands claps hard, and I raise my hand, acknowledging the announcement while the crowd goes nuts. It's okay that I'm in second, since that means that Dani gets to be homecoming queen, and really, she deserves it more than me. She's the one who has been the social queen for all of high school. At least I get to be on stage with her tomorrow night, and besides, if I'd won, I'm sure I would have gotten some smart ass comments that I just don't need.
Dani looks cute and kind of embarrassed as she accepts the crown, still in her cheerleading uniform, and then the sash. The band plays the school alma mater and a pretty terrible version of the Miss America theme, and at least that part of the night is over. We head back to the sidelines, ready for the second half of the game.
"I'm sorry you didn't win," Dani says when she comes back after getting another photo taken by the local paper. "Really."