there.”
“Any real brothers or sisters?” Coach asked.
Jackson shook his head.
“Nobody ever helped you through the loss of your parents?”
“Everybody thought I was all right. Of course I wasn’t all right. My mom’d named me for good luck and my dad had told me I
could be the next Gayle Sayers.”
Coach glanced at me, then back at Jackson. “Sayers was even before your dad’s time, wasn’t he?”
“He only went to one NFL game when he was like five or so. December 12, 1965.”
“I was eighteen,” Coach said, looking at the ceiling. “Wrigley Field. Sayers was a rookie when running backs also returned
kicks. Six TDs.”
“Were you there?” Jackson said.
“No, but every real football fan knows that game, son. Let me ask you something. You telling me the honest-toGod truth?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Bout everything, I mean.”
“Yes, sir.”
Schuler shook his head and sighed again. “You want to stay on this team?”
“Absolutely.”
“You know I gotta punish you for insubordination.”
“I’ll do anything.”
“You’ll do more than anything. You’ll do everything. You’ll run a mile tonight. You’ll run two hours a day during the first
three practices next week. Then you’ll really face the music Thursday.”
“The music?”
“You’ll see.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
“Don’t thank me, Jackson. Show me. And you’re on a short leash. No more screwups.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And I want the name of that last family you lived with.”
“Oh, I couldn’t—”
“I’ll leave you out of it, son, but you got to think about the girl in that home.”
“That’s what I’m worried about. What if he—”
“Just write the name and address for me, and then don’t you give it another thought.”
Jackson left to run his laps and Coach and I just looked at each other. “Story like that could make a nun swear,” he said
finally, studying the name and address.
• • •
Coach was gone by the time I walked out to see Jackson finish his fourth quarter-mile loop of the track. He didn’t even look
winded. He looked eager. “Almost lost your spot on this team,” I said.
“Tell me about it,” he said.
I followed him inside. “Can I do something for you before you leave?” I said.
“Sure. What?”
“Could I pray with ya?”
He shook his head. “You’re a born-againer like your daughter?”
I nodded.
“You can pray
for
me all you want, but I won’t be praying with you.”
“Want to say why?”
“Not particularly.”
“I
will
be praying for you.”
“Suit yourself.”
18
R achel was waiting at home. “I was worried,” she said. I wanted to say that was fair; I’d been worrying about her lately.
“Losing always takes longer than winning,” I said.
“Want me to fix you something?”
I shook my head. “Thanks. What would Josie say about that?”
“You know I don’t care. For all her women’s rights flag waving, she’s now going with Abel Gordon just to make Brian jealous.”
“What’s she want to do that for?”
“Says she’s taken a backseat to football long enough.”
“But Abel’s a footb—”
“I know, Daddy. I didn’t say she made sense.”
I asked her how her school crusade was going.
“I’ll know when I see what kinda crowd shows up Wednesday night. You’ll be there, right?”
“I was just waiting for an invite.”
“You were not.”
“Maybe I wasn’t, but lots of people would come if you asked em personally.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
And so Rachel did. Over the next two days she asked everybody she saw, including everybody at church. Lots of em told her
they’d be there. I didn’t want to pop her balloon, but I didn’t expect much to come of it. “I invited the county school board,”
she said, “and it looks like they’re coming.”
That was a surprise.
• • •
Monday morning Bev had that meeting for me with Lee Forest and a few others off the line. They’d volunteered to
“Any real brothers or sisters?” Coach asked.
Jackson shook his head.
“Nobody ever helped you through the loss of your parents?”
“Everybody thought I was all right. Of course I wasn’t all right. My mom’d named me for good luck and my dad had told me I
could be the next Gayle Sayers.”
Coach glanced at me, then back at Jackson. “Sayers was even before your dad’s time, wasn’t he?”
“He only went to one NFL game when he was like five or so. December 12, 1965.”
“I was eighteen,” Coach said, looking at the ceiling. “Wrigley Field. Sayers was a rookie when running backs also returned
kicks. Six TDs.”
“Were you there?” Jackson said.
“No, but every real football fan knows that game, son. Let me ask you something. You telling me the honest-toGod truth?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Bout everything, I mean.”
“Yes, sir.”
Schuler shook his head and sighed again. “You want to stay on this team?”
“Absolutely.”
“You know I gotta punish you for insubordination.”
“I’ll do anything.”
“You’ll do more than anything. You’ll do everything. You’ll run a mile tonight. You’ll run two hours a day during the first
three practices next week. Then you’ll really face the music Thursday.”
“The music?”
“You’ll see.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
“Don’t thank me, Jackson. Show me. And you’re on a short leash. No more screwups.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And I want the name of that last family you lived with.”
“Oh, I couldn’t—”
“I’ll leave you out of it, son, but you got to think about the girl in that home.”
“That’s what I’m worried about. What if he—”
“Just write the name and address for me, and then don’t you give it another thought.”
Jackson left to run his laps and Coach and I just looked at each other. “Story like that could make a nun swear,” he said
finally, studying the name and address.
• • •
Coach was gone by the time I walked out to see Jackson finish his fourth quarter-mile loop of the track. He didn’t even look
winded. He looked eager. “Almost lost your spot on this team,” I said.
“Tell me about it,” he said.
I followed him inside. “Can I do something for you before you leave?” I said.
“Sure. What?”
“Could I pray with ya?”
He shook his head. “You’re a born-againer like your daughter?”
I nodded.
“You can pray
for
me all you want, but I won’t be praying with you.”
“Want to say why?”
“Not particularly.”
“I
will
be praying for you.”
“Suit yourself.”
18
R achel was waiting at home. “I was worried,” she said. I wanted to say that was fair; I’d been worrying about her lately.
“Losing always takes longer than winning,” I said.
“Want me to fix you something?”
I shook my head. “Thanks. What would Josie say about that?”
“You know I don’t care. For all her women’s rights flag waving, she’s now going with Abel Gordon just to make Brian jealous.”
“What’s she want to do that for?”
“Says she’s taken a backseat to football long enough.”
“But Abel’s a footb—”
“I know, Daddy. I didn’t say she made sense.”
I asked her how her school crusade was going.
“I’ll know when I see what kinda crowd shows up Wednesday night. You’ll be there, right?”
“I was just waiting for an invite.”
“You were not.”
“Maybe I wasn’t, but lots of people would come if you asked em personally.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
And so Rachel did. Over the next two days she asked everybody she saw, including everybody at church. Lots of em told her
they’d be there. I didn’t want to pop her balloon, but I didn’t expect much to come of it. “I invited the county school board,”
she said, “and it looks like they’re coming.”
That was a surprise.
• • •
Monday morning Bev had that meeting for me with Lee Forest and a few others off the line. They’d volunteered to
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