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Chapter

Eighteen

W est met for the third time with Coach Markham’s football staff.

Fortunately, he hadn’t picked up on any negative vibes from any of them.

They all seemed genuinely pleased to have him coaching alongside them next year.

Rand Jones, the assistant leaving for an administrative job, had already invited him to the coaches’ weekly poker game, telling West he would take his place.

“Hopefully, you’ll win more than I ever did. Most nights, I felt lucky if I broke even.”

He had made a few suggestions regarding the playbook, and most had been received well.

Coach Markham had implemented some of the suggested plays, along with a few others on staff as the offense was tweaked.

West could see the playbook gelling with the staff and hoped it would do the same with the players.

The meeting ended with Coach reminding him to be at the spring scrimmage tomorrow. This was an annual game, open to the public, so they could catch their first glimpse of the coming year’s team and see which JV players had been moved up to varsity.

“I’ll be there, Coach,” he promised. “And I’ll even bring donuts for the staff.”

He accompanied his mentor and the rest of the other coaches to the playing field, where the team was gathering.

This would be West’s introduction to the players.

Word had spread around Hawthorne about him coming to teach and coach at the high school, so he didn’t see surprise on any of the players’ faces.

What he did see was awe.

He’d asked Coach if he could address the team and was given that opportunity to now.

“Thank you, Coach Markham,” he said, gazing out over the field, next year’s Hawks seated on the turf, hanging on his every word. He smiled at the group of young men he would have a hand in helping to mature.

“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m West Sutherland.”

A few boys chuckled, and he nodded. “Yes, that West Sutherland. The receiver who still holds several records here at HHS. The one who earned a scholarship to Texas A&M and will be a Fighting Texas Aggie to the grave and beyond. The West Sutherland who was drafted by the Dallas Cowboys and played in the Super Bowl.”

He paused, searching the faces of these teenagers.

“And I sat right where you’re sitting. Not that long ago.

I’m here to tell you today that you are receiving the equivalent of a bachelor’s degree in football education from this man right here.

Coach Markham. I’ve had my share of coaches, and Coach taught me more than I learned from any of them. ”

West let that sink in. “Coach educated me in the rules of football, starting with the basics.

Sometimes, knowledge of those rules is critical, especially in the heat of the moment, with everything on the line.

He taught me about my position, giving me the instruction I needed to become a premier receiver.

“More importantly, he taught me lessons I’ve used throughout my life.

How to be a good team member. How to care for your fellow players.

How to compete without arrogance. How to win graciously and lose gracefully.

I expect you to always listen to everything he says and take it to heart.

Yes, I may wear a championship ring on my finger and have a fat bank account because of my time in the NFL, but everything boils down to one thing.

Did I do my best today? That’s what I’ll expect from all of you.

So don’t let my past glories turn your head.

Don’t get caught up in the idea of playing professional football for a living.

Those who do are a miniscule number of the athletes who take to the gridiron each year in high schools and colleges around America. ”

He paused. “Learn everything you can about the sport of football and play for the love of the game, but also take your academics seriously. You’ll get a good education at HHS, and it will be something you use as you move on to the next phase of your life.

I’ll be checking on each and every one of you come progress report and report card time.

You want to do more than pass. You want to succeed, both in the classroom and on the playing field. ”

West looked to Coach Markham. “Thank you for giving me the opportunity to return to HHS, Coach, and work beside you. I know I’ll learn something new from you every day, as will these players. Thank you.”

He stepped to the side as Markham made a few remarks of his own regarding tomorrow’s scrimmage.

Then they broke into position groups. West went with the receivers first, watching the routes they ran, giving a few tips.

After half an hour, he moved to the quarterbacks.

The roster only carried two at the moment.

David Jordan would be a senior next year and serve as the starter.

Fred Biggerstaff, the principal’s son, was currently a sophomore and would play back-up.

Personally, he thought they needed a third-string quarterback.

Injuries occurred all the time in football, with quarterbacks being targeted by the defense on every play.

He would keep his eye out and see if anyone on the current squad might have potential.

They could also move up the JV starter if necessary.

He put the two players through their paces, seeing that David was a good passer who read defenses well and could scramble from the pocket if necessary.

Fred was a pure passer, his spirals a thing of beauty to behold.

He seemed to think fast on his feet and knew to keep those feet moving as he did so.

West knew he would enjoy working with both teenagers.

Coach Markham called an end to practice, telling the team to report at nine the next morning. The scrimmage would begin at ten. Coaches were to arrive at eight-thirty. Even though West wasn’t officially one of them yet, he would be proud to attend and stand on the sidelines.

As he walked back to the fieldhouse, Fred and David accompanied him, both asking questions about playing at the collegiate level. Neither had had any nibbles regarding scholarship offers, and West hoped he would be able to change that.

He bid them and a few other players goodbye and went into Markham’s office.

“Take a seat, West.”

Doing so, he said, “They look to be in good condition. As far as the receivers and quarterbacks go, they have a great handle on the playbook.”

“I appreciate what you said today. About me and education. These are small-town farm boys. Some will get a chance to go to college, a couple of them on an athletic scholarship. They need to know that education is important. It’s the key to everything in life.”

“You emphasized that to me.” He chuckled. “Along with my parents. Having a teacher and a librarian in the family, the need to do well in school was in my DNA from the start.”

“I think you’re going to do a fine job at the high school, West. Dex Danby told me the two of you met earlier this week.”

“Yes. I still don’t know what my teaching assignment will be. I should find out by mid-May. Of course, that’s if no one goes anywhere after the master schedule is created. Dex seemed to think I’d be teaching either World or US History. Either would be fine with me. I enjoyed studying both.”

“I know I don’t need to say this, but just as you’ll lean on your fellow coaches, don’t be afraid to ask for help from the teachers in those subjects.

While a few might be a little selfish with their lesson plans, plenty of teachers will be willing to share with you.

They want to see all kids succeed, not only their own particular students. ”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Coach. I’ll see you at tomorrow’s spring game.”

West texted Kelby on the way to his truck. Sawyer had gone to Dallas for the weekend, so she was preparing dinner for them at his house.

When he got there, two tapers were lit and sitting on the table of the small dinette, and the house smelled incredible.

Kelby was pouring wine, and he went up behind her, slipping his arms about her waist. Nuzzling her neck, he asked, “What are you making that smells so divine?”

“Tortellini with sausage and mascarpone. I hope you like mushrooms. Mostly because I do, but they’re also in the tortellini.”

“I adore mushrooms,” he assured her, turning her so that they faced one another. “Almost as much as I do you.”

West gave her a slow, delicious kiss. “Mmm. You taste like wine.”

“I may have sipped on a glass while I was making dinner,” she purred, wrapping her arms about his neck and kissing him.

After a minute, he broke the kiss. “I want to kiss you all night, honey, but I’m starving.”

“Dinner first. Then dessert after,” she said, a gleam in her eyes.

Deciding to tease her, he said, “I told you I try not to eat dessert too much.”

“Oh, this dessert has zero calories and is very satisfying.”

West pulled Kelby to him, burying his face in her hair. “Oh, then it’s right up my alley.”

He finished pouring the wine and took it to the table, seeing the pasta dish already sitting there. Kelby retrieved piping hot Italian bread from the oven, buttering a slice and handing it to him. He took a bite and sighed.

“This is almost better than any dessert,” he said.

“Wait until you try mine,” she said, smiling flirtatiously.

They talked about their day, with West telling her about the players he had worked with and the potential he saw in them. Kelby had refined her own website, deciding to add executive summaries, mission statements, and taglines to her offerings.

“I have no idea what the difference is between that kind of summary and a mission statement. Taglines I get. I like the one you did for Motion Mates—Elevate your every move. That resonates.”

“An executive summary defines the business. Here, let me read you the one I wrote for Motion Mates. Elaine and Carol really liked it, so I placed it on their website today.”