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CHAPTERELEVEN
Sophomore Year
Everyone lines up on the football field to welcome in the varsity team for the season opener football game. This is always my favorite part, ever since I was a little girl and I would sit on the end of the field and watch in awe as everything happened around me.
As the four guys carrying the giant bulldog come near us, I’m taken aback to see the two who are carrying it in the back. Of course, the two front people are the senior captain and cocaptain, but the back two are always chosen specifically by my dad for the two who worked the hardest this summer or at any particular practice.
When I see Aaron on one side and Beau on the other, I turn to Heather in shock. “Are you seeing this?”
Her eyes open wide. “Damn. So, I guess they took well to your dad’s ass-kicking all summer. Or is this his way of apologizing for being so hard on them?”
She laughs, and I can’t help but laugh along with her.
Even though both are only sophomores, Dad has pulled them up to varsity, which is a huge achievement in itself. They are the only sophomores with the honor this year, and then the fact that they get to do this as well is huge!
I’ve heard from other people how mad he was at practice after we got caught on the field. Even though Aaron lives right next door, I haven’t spoken to him all summer. When he came over for Thursday nights, I’d make sure all the food was already set out and ready to go before he could even try to come help. And when he did show up, I’d make it very clear I wanted nothing to do with him.
As for Beau, we’ve spoken a few times when running into each other at the mall or on Thursday nights, but nothing more than that. I’ve never had the nerve to call him myself, and there is no way he’d call my house on the off chance that my dad would answer instead of me.
Yet another reason why I’ll never have a boyfriend …
I am just glad to see that even though my dad was not happy with these boys when it pertained to me, he didn’t take it out on them when it came to football. Yes, he might have made them do extra things at practice, but from what I can tell, that only benefited them, as it seems they both rose to the occasion, proving they could handle it.
I watch as they carry the bulldog down to the fifty-yard line and then rush back to be with the rest of the team.
As the beat to “Back in Black” sounds around us, everyone cheers as the guys race through the paper barrier with the painted words on it that sayBulldogsandLet’s Go!
The players all line up on the field to start their warm-ups while the rest of us head back to our places and get ready for the game to start.
* * *
After a few hours, we all celebrate our win, cheering on our boys as the clock winds down to the end of the game.
It’s tradition after each game for everyone to head out to the field, where my dad talks to the players and gives out the game awards. When he first started coaching, he wanted to give out something special to each kid who had made a difference during that game, but he didn’t know what that could be without spending a fortune. So, when he thought about what might be the least expensive thing he could give out, he literally thought of a penny, and the idea has stuck ever since.
Now, at the end of each game, he hands out anywhere from five to ten pennies as the player awards. You’d think people thought this was weird, but, no, the tradition has become one of the biggest parts of the game. Past players who talk to my dad tell him they still have their pennies.
It’s not the size or cost of the trophies; it’s the meaning. And to any Mac High players, there’s nothing more meaningful than earning a penny from Coach Z.
As we all walk off the field, Heather comes up behind me. “A group of us are going to hang out. Do you think your dad will finally allow it?”
I bite my lip in thought. “If we lost, no way in hell.”
She raises her eyebrows and singsongs, “But we won …”
A slow grin builds across my face. “Let me go ask. If he says yes, can I just leave with you now?”
“Sure thing. Good luck!” She smacks my ass as she runs off to Justin, who’s heading toward the locker room, still in his pads.
I make my way over to where my dad is gathering his things from the sideline. “Daddy?”
“Yes?” He copies my delivery, as he knows I’m going to ask him something, even though he doesn’t stop what he’s doing.
“A group of kids are going out. Can I go with them?”
He stands up straight and looks right at me with a sigh. “Who’s all going?”
I hold my hands out wide to prove my point. “I don’t know, but there isn’t a kid in this town you don’t know—or better yet, who doesn’t know you and that I’m your daughter.”
