“But I’ll tell you what, Ramsey. If I don’t like football, I’ll be looking for a job. Think you can put in a good word for me with Huey?”

“No problem.”

Knowing how unstable his dad is, helping this guy get a job is the least I can do. I want to ask him if he’s seen his dad lately, want to know if Barry Deck, Sr., has actually left Blaine behind.

God, I sure hope so.

————

After the equipment managers issue helmets, shoulder pads, and locks, we pick our lockers, store our gear, and gather in a large space outside the showers for our team meeting with Coach Horton. It’s a traditional pep talk from the head coach, Horton’s futile attempt to pump us up for the grueling double sessions that await us.

The other coaches order us to form a semicircle and kneel on one knee, which, despite the uncomfortable tiled floor, we all do. When we’re silent, Hank Horton walks out of his office and saunters into the middle of the semicircle, one hand on his hip, a football tucked under his opposite arm, a ridiculous act I’ve seen far too many times. He has one of his new Blaine football caps pulled down tight over his forehead. His white polyester coaching shirt is way too tight and his gut totally jiggles and bounces like Jell-O with every step. I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing.

As he looks us over, I study the faces of the players, sickened with the expressions of awe that adorn them. They look as if they’re waiting for God to speak. Horton always seems to sense this, too. He scans his disciples in silence, milking the attention for at least two minutes before finally deciding to talk. I feel like I’m in some sort of twisted, modern-day athletic version of a Hitler Youth rally.

Then Horton clenches his fists and says, “Men, you can do anything if you have enthusiasm.” The other coaches look at each other and nod. “And whatever you do, men, remember this: never give up. No matter how bad it gets, you must never, ever give up. You must never surrender.”

Players nod in agreement. I cock my head and squint, gazing around the room in disbelief. How many times have I heard this same speech? My God, I say to myself, at least a dozen, and each time he delivers it, the players act as if they’re hearing it for the first time. Unreal!

He says, “Whether you think you can, or whether you think you can’t, either way, you’re probably right.”

Affirmative grunts echo throughout the room.

The assistant coaches clap.

Taking this as their cue, the players join in the applause.

But I don’t.