Hickham took off his ball cap, ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re telling me that those boys, who were standing on that pool deck an hour and a half ago, were playing organized football?”

“Yes,” Cole answered truthfully. “I’m also telling you they’ve never played better. Or faster. Or smarter.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I would have thought so, too, if I hadn’t been there to see it. I’ve never seen them play the way they were playing tonight, Coach. They were playing with a purpose that goes beyond trophies or championships. They were playing for revenge. They were playing to get back at the Badgers for what they did to us. They don’t want to do it with fists or knives or guns. They want to do it the right way … your way. On the field. How can you see anything wrong with that?”

“Where should I begin?”

“We can’t do it alone, Coach. We need you. We just need you to do your job. One more game.”

Hickham turned away. He stood staring at the shelves beside his desk. Before him were awards, honors, and pictures from years past. The trophies were dusty and tarnished, the photos yellowed.

“Look at that stuff, Coach. That’s your history there, all your successes from other places. Everyone in town knows about ’em. We know what you’re capable of.”

“My history is not as successful as everyone might think.”

“Well, it’s good enough for the people of Killington, Texas. It’s why we felt so lucky to get you here. Coach, you know damn well that the Badgers are too good for us to beat without you. And you also know that the sheriff won’t even consider letting this thing happen if you’re not behind it.”

“I can’t do it, Logan.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.” He turned back. “I can’t field a team in that condition. The safety of those boys has to come first.”

“Coach, if you’d only seen them tonight. They weren’t hurting. They were hitting harder than I’ve ever seen them hit, and I can assure you they weren’t in any pain. And if you care for them so much, then you owe them this game. If you want to walk away after the final whistle blows tomorrow night, fine. But I’m asking you for this one favor. Christ, I’m begging you. Remember, this is my last shot, too. I guarantee that with your help, we’ll all go out a winner.”

“There are no guarantees, Logan.”

“This time there are.”

“And how’s that?”

“Because losing is not an option with this one, Coach. You just have to trust me on that.”

Hickham exhaled slowly. The silence stretched out between them. “You know, Cole … I never did thank you.”

“For what?”

“For what you did in that river the other night.”