Page 87 of Worth the Trip

“Same difference.” I stared at him until his grin surrendered. “Aight. My bad.”

I stepped toward the formation. “It’ll be everybody’s bad when you improvise us into a loss. Talent gets you noticed. Discipline makes sure folks keep watching. Run what we practiced.”

The boys reset without another complaint. They knew I wasn’t interested in humiliating them, but I wasn’t about to flatter them into mediocrity either. Every one of them had enough people prepared to excuse carelessness because they were young, Black, restless, talented, or still figuring themselves out. I wasn’t joining that list. Caring about them meant expecting something from them.

I pointed toward the line. “Caleb, your feet crossed on the last rep. Keep your base beneath you. Jamari, don’t look at the receiver before the snap unless you plan on sending the defense an engraved invitation. Malik, run the route we called. Your creativity can return after execution.”

From the defensive side of the field, Malcolm’s voice carried over mine.

“And DBs, if that man sends you an engraved invitation, RSVP with an interception. We got manners over here.”

A few boys laughed.

I looked over.

Malcolm stood twenty yards away with his whistle against his chest and his arms folded like he hadn’t just inserted himself into somebody else’s drill.

“This offense,” I told him.

“Football field. Shared jurisdiction.”

“You coach defensive backs.”

“Which is why I’m concerned about the foolishness your receivers spreading.”

Malik called over, “Coach Malcolm, you supposed to be on our side.”

Malcolm looked insulted. “I ain’t on nobody’s side but sound technique. Right now, sound technique got trust issues.”

I shook my head.

Malik adjusted his gloves. “See? Both of y’all always got a speech ready.”

“Nah,” I said. “You keep supplying material.”

Malcolm pointed toward him. “Exactly. Now run that route before Coach Brooks turns this into a dissertation and I start charging tuition.”

The boys laughed, but their posture changed when I raised the whistle again. Caleb widened his stance. Jamari surveyed the defense without advertising where he planned to throw. Malik exploded from the line, planted his outside foot, and cut across the middle exactly where the ball met him.

He secured it against his chest and kept running until I blew the play dead.

“That’s what happens when talent and discipline stop arguing.”

Malik tossed the ball toward Jamari with a grin. “I knew I had it.”

“You knew after I told you.”

“Still knew.”

Malcolm cupped both hands around his mouth. “Confidence unsupported by evidence. I respect it.”

“Reed.”

“What?”

“Coach your people.”

“My people doing excellent.”