“Dad was really driving Tommy hard the day he died. Actually, he was punishing him, making him run sprints for a missed tackle or something. It was August, second practice of the day, temperature over a hundred degrees. You have to understand that however stern a coach my father is now, it’s nothing compared to the tyrant he once was. You should have seen him back then. He’d have made Bobby Knight look like a teddy bear.”

Cole found this hard to believe. He had always compared Hickham’s coaching style to that of the much more taciturn Tom Landry—firm but disciplined, achieving the respect of his players through rigidly high expectations, rather than instilling absolute terror in them.

He said, “I can’t think of a single successful coach that doesn’t put his players through the ringer every August, from the Pee-Wee League to the NFL. Two-a-days in scorching temperatures, wind sprints, punishment for poor performance. It sort of goes with the territory. I mean, you said the autopsy showed that the kid had a congenital defect. So what was the problem? Did someone blame your dad for the kid’s death? Did he get fired or sued or something?”

She shook her head. “He was far too successful a coach for that. And that’s what bothered my dad more than anything. While everyone genuinely mourned Tommy’s death, his loss was viewed by most as unfortunate collateral damage—the price a team has to pay to achieve ultimate victory. My father didn’t see it that way. When he wasn’t fired, he quit on his own accord. It wasn’t because someone told him to, or even wanted him to. He just did it.”

“And then?”

“In the six months following the funeral, my dad hardly left the house. He drank a lot. He didn’t go anywhere near a football field. Didn’t watch football on TV. He didn’t even attempt to pull himself together until Farley Butler tracked him down, called him up out of the blue, and offered him the position here, coaching an unheralded team in a dying town for a huge cut in salary.”

“Why’d he take it?”

“No offense, but I think it’s what Dad felt he deserved. I think coming here was just another way of punishing himself. Believe me, the Jackrabbits’ success this season has been as much a surprise to him as it is to everyone else.”

Cole let this sink in. “I suppose I can see why he blames himself for the kid’s death. But I get the idea that you blame him, too.”

“You’re right. Well, I did, anyway.”

“Tommy Beck wasn’t just another player was he?”

She brought her eyes up and shook her head. “We had been dating for about a year when he died.”

“Makes sense why your dad would have felt so terrible about it, then.”