know what to make of it either.
“So you basically don’t respect any authority at all.”
“I respect you, sir.”
“Don’t start that. Why do you think you’re sitting here? You don’t respect me any more than you respect your dad, leaving
him there to fend for himself when the family needs you.”
“My parents are dead.”
“You got to get your story straight, son.” Coach looked at his watch. “I’m sitting here for five more minutes unless you can
keep my attention longer. You tell me your story, you tell me the truth, and Coach Sawyer here’n me are gonna decide your
future.”
Coach sat back in the squeaky chair and put his hands behind his head. Elvis Jackson leaned forward and sucked in a breath.
“My real mom and dad died in a wreck when I was ten. My grandparents were too old to take me and I guess no one else wanted
me. I was put in foster homes, but I was mad and scared and everything, so nobody kept me for long, till this last one where
I stayed four years. We lived in a double-wide and they had a younger foster kid too, a girl who’s ten now.” His voice caught
and Coach and I looked at each other. “I guess they’d had a bunch of foster kids over the years. Anyway, I was fourteen and
I was a year behind in school and angry, but they seemed happy when the county took me there, like they wanted me.
“As soon as the social worker left, though, the mom went in the other room to watch TV and Jenny—that’s the girl—hid out in
one of the bedrooms. The dad told me to follow him outside, even though it was the middle of January and below zero. I can’t
remember everything he said but I got the point. He told me I had one role in my new family and that was to do what he said,
get a job, and give him the money. I thought I was a tough guy and said something like, ‘And what if I don’t?’
“He grabbed my stomach with one hand and squeezed so tight I could hardly breathe. I tried to pull away and he just squeezed
tighter and said, ‘You think I don’t know where to hurt you where it doesn’t show?’ I shook my head and he said, ‘Make trouble
and I’ll tell em you molested Jenny.’”
Coach looked as angry as me. “You told someone, I hope,” he said, his voice thick.
“I told the social worker as soon as I could, but she said my record was so bad no one was going to believe me. No one else
had ever complained about the guy before. Everybody said he was poor but hardworking, a leader in the community and all that.
“Jenny was scared of him, so any time anybody from the county came over, she smiled and acted happy. She was a good actor.
She fooled them like she fooled me at first.”
“So, what about football?” Coach said. “You got some training somewhere.”
“My real dad. Gave me a football for Christmas when I was so young I couldn’t even hold it in one hand. I played junior football
and later read everything I could about the game. I even worked out on my own and ran everywhere I could. The social worker
finally convinced me to keep my grades up, and it was actually the foster mom who put me onto Athens City.”
Coach flinched. “How’d she hear about us?”
“Well, she didn’t exactly know about it, but one day she was watching TV and all of a sudden says to me, ‘Football story’s
on.’ I couldn’t believe it. Usually she just kept to herself. She was scared of him too. I didn’t even know she knew I liked
football.
“I said, ‘I can watch it?’
“She said, ‘If you hurry. My show’s coming on.’ I hurried in there and saw the thing about you coming back. I recognized the
name of the town from my football. I’ve still got it; brought it with me. Anyway, that’s when I started making my plans. The
social worker told me that once I was eighteen, I was on my own. I left a few days early because I knew tryouts started that
day.” He looked down. “I just wish I’d got Jenny outa
“So you basically don’t respect any authority at all.”
“I respect you, sir.”
“Don’t start that. Why do you think you’re sitting here? You don’t respect me any more than you respect your dad, leaving
him there to fend for himself when the family needs you.”
“My parents are dead.”
“You got to get your story straight, son.” Coach looked at his watch. “I’m sitting here for five more minutes unless you can
keep my attention longer. You tell me your story, you tell me the truth, and Coach Sawyer here’n me are gonna decide your
future.”
Coach sat back in the squeaky chair and put his hands behind his head. Elvis Jackson leaned forward and sucked in a breath.
“My real mom and dad died in a wreck when I was ten. My grandparents were too old to take me and I guess no one else wanted
me. I was put in foster homes, but I was mad and scared and everything, so nobody kept me for long, till this last one where
I stayed four years. We lived in a double-wide and they had a younger foster kid too, a girl who’s ten now.” His voice caught
and Coach and I looked at each other. “I guess they’d had a bunch of foster kids over the years. Anyway, I was fourteen and
I was a year behind in school and angry, but they seemed happy when the county took me there, like they wanted me.
“As soon as the social worker left, though, the mom went in the other room to watch TV and Jenny—that’s the girl—hid out in
one of the bedrooms. The dad told me to follow him outside, even though it was the middle of January and below zero. I can’t
remember everything he said but I got the point. He told me I had one role in my new family and that was to do what he said,
get a job, and give him the money. I thought I was a tough guy and said something like, ‘And what if I don’t?’
“He grabbed my stomach with one hand and squeezed so tight I could hardly breathe. I tried to pull away and he just squeezed
tighter and said, ‘You think I don’t know where to hurt you where it doesn’t show?’ I shook my head and he said, ‘Make trouble
and I’ll tell em you molested Jenny.’”
Coach looked as angry as me. “You told someone, I hope,” he said, his voice thick.
“I told the social worker as soon as I could, but she said my record was so bad no one was going to believe me. No one else
had ever complained about the guy before. Everybody said he was poor but hardworking, a leader in the community and all that.
“Jenny was scared of him, so any time anybody from the county came over, she smiled and acted happy. She was a good actor.
She fooled them like she fooled me at first.”
“So, what about football?” Coach said. “You got some training somewhere.”
“My real dad. Gave me a football for Christmas when I was so young I couldn’t even hold it in one hand. I played junior football
and later read everything I could about the game. I even worked out on my own and ran everywhere I could. The social worker
finally convinced me to keep my grades up, and it was actually the foster mom who put me onto Athens City.”
Coach flinched. “How’d she hear about us?”
“Well, she didn’t exactly know about it, but one day she was watching TV and all of a sudden says to me, ‘Football story’s
on.’ I couldn’t believe it. Usually she just kept to herself. She was scared of him too. I didn’t even know she knew I liked
football.
“I said, ‘I can watch it?’
“She said, ‘If you hurry. My show’s coming on.’ I hurried in there and saw the thing about you coming back. I recognized the
name of the town from my football. I’ve still got it; brought it with me. Anyway, that’s when I started making my plans. The
social worker told me that once I was eighteen, I was on my own. I left a few days early because I knew tryouts started that
day.” He looked down. “I just wish I’d got Jenny outa
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