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If he clenches that asshole any tighter, he’s going to shit diamonds!
Jesus, what the fuck is his problem? I honestly can’t tell.
Rumors abound regarding Coach Heacock, but I had hoped they were gross exaggerations.
I should have known with the list he sent over before the season even started that they were probably underselling just how fucking misogynistic, possibly racist, and antiquated he actually is.
I pass his position on the sidelines again in my quest for the best shots of the game.
I’m in my second year here, and I’m getting a chance to make a name for myself as a photojournalist by documenting the university’s college football season.
I’m realizing I was selected because everyone else was smart enough to pass on dealing with Heacock. Ambition makes us stupid.
The three-page single spaced acceptable parameters list he sent to the editor-in-chief was like a blinking neon sign to run away and instead I let my need to prove myself propel me headfirst into a giant clusterfuck.
He provided a detailed and exhaustive list of acceptable angles and locations, which personnel to photograph and which to avoid, the places within university athletics where I am permitted and where to avoid.
He insisted on final approval or veto for any images before they are used in any way, shape, or form.
Also, I am to only photograph him from the left side and nipples up.
I gagged…repeatedly. Anything to do with his nipples is gross and not something I ever wish to think about ever again.
So, naturally, after we agreed to his ridiculous terms, my editor Destinaysia Bartley told me to document everything, no matter how small, anywhere and everywhere.
This man wants to muzzle the media…he’s gonna get bit.
And nothing in the last game and a half has given me reason to refuse her.
Coach Heacock is one of the worst human beings I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.
Even our faculty advisor encouraged me to take pictures that tell an accurate and truthful story.
Capture every moment, heartache and highs, triumphs and tribulations whether they fall within his parameters or not.
And if I can find something to take him down, you best believe I’m gonna do it.
Especially after witnessing his abhorrent behavior toward Phia Kerr, this season’s water girl. From what I’ve found out, Phia is incredibly intelligent, well respected by faculty and students alike, and generally a sweet person. She does not deserve Heacock’s wrath.
The fact that our school “paper” is digital does not work in his favor.
He was overruled when he tried to get us banned, along with Phia.
Rumor has it, the board barely contained their joy at turning him down so spectacularly.
They knew what they were doing, giving us an all-access pass to tell the world who Coach Heacock really is.
Destinaysia told me that they’ve been trying to get rid of him for years.
He’s the last of the “old guard” and the current dean wants him gone and they don’t want to pay him anything as compensation.
I intend to do my job and do it well. We published my photos from the first game that fit Coach’s criteria, but we are keeping everything else I took for leverage or a better story later.
You’d think knowing there was a photographer running around, you and your players would be on your best behavior.
Heacock really believes he has enough power to remain untouchable while he dictates everyone else’s actions.
He isn’t my coach, and he isn’t my advisor either. And Lord knows he ain’t my momma.
I roll my eyes at Coach as I pass him, then start chuckling as I catch Big Prib stalking Phia.
I capture every moment on film and am abnormally happy that I did.
I’ve met Prib a couple times but haven’t spent a great deal of time with him, though the campus grapevine speaks highly of him.
On and off the field. No lady drama, an excellent student, exceptional football player, and a leader on the team.
The fact that he doesn’t want to go pro is astonishing and commendable.
I’m watching him and the plays on the field.
I catch the moment the action turns in Phia’s direction.
Prib rushes to get to her before she’s trampled to death.
He wraps his arms around her middle and hoists her into the air, his back to the field.
When the ball carrier is tackled, Prib absorbs the impact and barely moves, keeping Phia safe and sound.
Click. Click. Click.
I take picture after picture, giggling as he slowly lowers her to the ground and presses his body into hers.
He whispers something to her I’m too far away to hear, and when she turns around, she smiles up at him.
It drops quickly and she rushes off field to the tunnel.
A quick glance over my shoulder reveals the source of her distress.
I snap a few pics of Coach glaring at her retreating form.
Brandon Beiler, the offensive line coach, follows her, so I stay back and let him talk to her. I’ve noticed they’ve developed a fast friendship, but it isn’t surprising. I’ve never met anyone who didn’t like Brandon.
I pass him on my way to the tunnel. “Beiler.” He smiles and I lift my camera and capture the moment. He’s incredibly handsome, especially for someone 20 years my senior.
“Think you can put that thing away for a few minutes and help a girl out?” He nods toward the tunnel.
“What do you think I’m doing?” He laughs when I roll my eyes.
“She’s a great girl.” I nod in agreement, though I’ve never met her. “Could use a friend.”
“Aside from you?” He nods. I smirk. “I think Big Prib would be happy to be her friend.”
“A friend who doesn’t want to see her naked.” He shivers dramatically.
“Not nice to assume, Beiler. Don’t think you know me just ‘cause you saw me on a date a couple weeks ago.”
He tilts his head. “Was that a date? Because from where I was sitting it looked like you had lost a bet and were suffering through the consequences.”
I shake my head with a laugh. He’s right, that date was awful. “Don’t you have a game to coach?”
“I do.” He points behind him. “Make her smile, please?”
“I’m on it.” Inside the tunnel, I find Phia leaning against the wall, her hands on her thighs like she’s catching her breath. “Girl, that was hot!”
Her head snaps up, a slow grin stretching her lips. “Almost dying, do it for you?”
I fan myself as I step closer. “Not usually, but the rescue…dayum! Edee Shingleton. School newspaper photographer.” I hold out my hand for her to shake. Strong, firm grip. I can already tell she’s good people.
“Phia Kerr. Sideline nuisance.”
Waving off her concern, I tell her, “Ah, don’t let Coach He-A-Cock into your head. He’s a fucking asshole and not worth your time or tears.”
“He-A-Cock? I love it!” She laughs so hard, tears fill her eyes. “Thank you, I desperately needed that.”
I nod in understanding, “Glad I could help. I’ll let you get back out there, just wanted to tell you, I got some good shots of Big Prib saving you if you want some vag vault material.”
“Oh my gosh!” Her laughter follows me as I walk backward a few steps, then spin on my heel and leave her to finish collecting herself in the tunnel. On the sidelines again, I take a few shots of the cheerleaders, the band, Prib, and Phia when she returns.
“I told you, girl, you have to take the right kind of shots of the right kind of subjects!” With a heavy sigh, I stand up and turn to find Heacock in the passenger seat of his golf-cart, scowling at me. “Hey!” I offer him a half-ass salute and wander off to do my thing.
I stop in my tracks about 20 feet down, when I look through my camera lens and find the mascot staring in my direction…
again. I tilt my head and snap a few pics of them.
I’ve caught them several times since last game, but I’m not sure who the mascot is.
I should know, but I hadn’t taken the time to learn anyone’s names if they weren’t a key player on the team.
Don’t get me wrong, everyone is essential; band member, mic-man, groundskeeper, towel boy, mascot and everyone in between. I just didn’t want to overwhelm myself with too much info at one time. Now, I’m kinda wishing I’d pushed myself to learn more.
The crowd goes wild as the clock counts down. We win and I can feel the energy from the stadium, like a pulse beating beneath my skin. A hum of excitement. I literally had nothing to do with today’s win and yet, I feel connected to the team. I guess this is school pride.
I stay behind as the field and stadium empty, capturing every minute of the win. Walking through the corridors of the athletic complex, I run into Lilly Geddes, who handles the PR for the team. We’ve been in communication since the summer when I was initially assigned to the football team.
“Get any good shots today?” she asks, leaning against the stone wall, her ankles crossed. Her casual posture lasts all of two seconds, before she slaps both high-heeled feet to the ground and bounces slightly. “Please tell me you got every second of Pribula rescuing Ms. Kerr?”
“I did!” I reply with just slightly less enthusiasm. Lilly claps her hands.
“Put them in the shared folder as soon as you can. I’m gonna put them on the homepage! In a slideshow!”
I chuckle at her exuberance and the fact that Heacock will hate it. “Happy to oblige. Hey, who’s the mascot?”
Still smiling, she answers, “Tyrone Wicawiil.”
“That name is so familiar,” I muse, knowing I’ve heard it somewhere.
“Lyndell is his brother.”
“Oh! Lyndell! He’s such a sweetheart. He gave me a towel during the last game because it was so hot, I had to keep wiping sweat off my forehead and under my braids.”
“He’s as much a part of this school as the mascot itself.” Her eyes widen alarmingly. I turn to see what has her so concerned. Lyndell runs into me and picks me up. He squeezes me tight.
Laughing, I pat his shoulder. “Hi, Lyndell!”
“Lyn,” Lilly begins in a soft voice. “Put her down.”
“Sorry!” He drops me to the ground, but I manage to keep my balance as he abruptly lets me go. “We won!” He kisses my cheek, then Lilly’s before he takes off. “ICE CREAM!”
We watch him go. “Edee, did something happen with Tyrone?”
“No. Not at all.” I wave her off and fiddle with the strap of my equipment bag. “Just wondered.”
She grins obnoxiously at me. “Of course. Well, if you wanted something to happen…I hear he’s single.”
“I haven’t even seen his face!” I blurt out, then backtrack. “I mean, good for him. Being single is great.”