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W est walked into the familiar locker room, one which he had been in many times as a Dallas Cowboys wide receiver.

It was the day of the state championship finals.

His football teams had won their district five times in a row.

The first year, they had been knocked out of the playoffs in the first round.

The second and third year, his team had gone to the quarterfinals.

Last year, the Hawks had played in the state title game.

And lost.

This year, they were back, chomping at the bit, ready to taste victory and claim a state title.

He knew it had been a remarkable run. Very few coaches experienced the continued success West had had, and he was grateful for it.

Other athletic directors had come knocking at his door, trying to hire him away to lead their programs in bigger districts, but he had always given them a resounding no.

If the day came and the powers that be didn’t want him coaching at Hawthorne High School, then he would hang up his coaching whistle and find something else to do because he was dead set on remaining in his hometown.

He had three wonderful reasons to stay. Kate, his daughter, was three-and-a-half now and had him wrapped around her pinky.

While she was already starting to read, which delighted his librarian mother, he was excited that her athleticism showed.

She could kick a ball with ease, and West could see her playing soccer in the near future.

Naturally, Kelby had put Kate in gymnastics, and his little girl was already tumbling and doing splits and all kinds of things he was learning about.

Of course, Kelby hoped that Kate would follow in her footsteps and want to be a cheerleader.

Whatever his daughter chose to do, be it basketball or the debate team, he was ready to support her.

The twins, Flynn and Quinn, were eighteen months and all boy, into absolutely everything.

They were both curious and loved to build with blocks and Legos.

They played with trucks and had plastic dinosaurs.

Quinn was the quieter of the two, the same as Autumn had been.

Flynn was boisterous and loud and loved making animal sounds.

His cow moos and duck quacks made his brother laugh hysterically.

While it was too early to know what they might be interested in, he hoped they would play some kind of sport.

His kids—and Kelby—were his entire world.

Yes, he spent an ungodly amount of hours coaching football and handling budgets, but West was able to let all that slide off him the moment he walked in the door at home.

The sweetest word in the world had to be his three kids shrieking Daddy at the top of their lungs, rushing toward him, and sticking to him like glue.

He gazed across the room now, seeing the players adjusting a pad or sitting quietly, visualizing a play. These young men knew when it was time to josh around and when to become serious.

David Jordan, the quarterback from his first team five years ago, caught his eye.

David had earned a scholarship to Tarleton and started as their quarterback his first two years.

A devastating injury had cut his athletic career short, but he had hunkered down and graduated in four years, his goal of coming home to coach with West being fulfilled this year.

West nodded at him, and David gave one of his shrill whistles, alerting everyone that their head coach had arrived in the locker room.

West moved to the center of the room. “Gather around.”

The team did so, ringed by his coaching staff. He took his time looking at each young man, wanting to connect with them.

“You’re about to go out and play the game of your life,” he said assuredly.

“We didn’t get to the championship game with dumb luck.

We’ve worked hard all season long, mastering the playbook, keeping up with conditioning, and our actual game play.

What you do out on the gridiron for the next sixty minutes may very well define you, not only as a player, but as a man. ”

He let that thought sink in a moment before continuing.

“You’re prepared. That’s a given. I want you to go out there and play the best game in you.

But I also want you to remember that football is a game.

It does teach discipline. Leadership. Camaraderie.

It helps you hone your instincts and trust your gut.

No matter what the score shows by the end of the game, I’ll still love you.

So will your family and friends and all the people who live in Hawthorne.

Go out and give it your best. That’s all I ask. ”

West thrust out his hand, with players stacking their hands above his. “Hawks on three. One, two, three. Hawks!”

The energy was almost visible now, a humming that carried throughout the locker room.

“Let’s go!” his defensive coordinator shouted, and players poured from the locker room.

They went up the tunnel and spilled out onto the field, running through the large banner the cheerleaders held. The band played the school fight song. The drill team shook their pompoms. The crowd roared. It seemed to him as if the entire town of Hawthorne was sitting in the stands.

West headed to the sidelines, looking up. He always found Kelby before any game. She centered him. Grounded him. She was the glue that kept his family together.

When he spotted her, his heart flipped over twice.

Spying her in a crowd never got old. Her beauty had matured over the years, motherhood softening her edges some.

Yet she was a fierce businesswoman, creative and demanding, managing social media accounts and creating websites and graphics and taglines and a dozen other things for the people and companies she represented.

She blew him a kiss, and he beamed at her. Everything was better and brighter in his life because of Kelby. Flynn and Quinn waved at him, and he waved back.

He glanced down the track to where the cheerleaders now stood, picking up their pompoms. Darby was down there with them, and she waved to him.

Kate was in the thick of things, wearing her own HHS sweater and skirt, with a tiny pair of pompoms to shake.

Already, she knew every cheer and routine and did them alongside the varsity squad. The fans ate her up.

Looking back at the crowd briefly, he caught sight of his sisters and their husbands. Darby’s husband sat with them. So did Sawyer and his wife. Even his mom and dad were there, cheering on their son and his team.

As West turned back to the field, he removed his hat for the playing of the national anthem, placing the ballcap over his heart.

He sang it, along with the school song, with pride and gusto.

His team stood on the sidelines, watching the three captains head to mid-field for the coin toss.

When his quarterback signaled that the Hawks had won, a peace settled over him.

The kickoff team went out on the field, and soon, the game was underway.

Two hours later, West held Kate in his arms, the twins locked to his legs, as he kissed Kelby. One of his teams had finally earned a state championship, and it was even sweeter than when he had quarterbacked the Hawks team which had done the same almost twenty years ago.

“How does it feel, earning your first state title as a coach?” Kelby asked.

“Good,” he said, their gazes holding. “But having you and the kids means even more.”

West kissed his wife again, knowing how happy the decades ahead would be.