Chapter 18

David went to the game early. The rest of his group planned to meet up with him before it started. He went straight to the booster’s building under the end-zone stands. Over time, the area had evolved from open seating to a tent and now a building. It showed what kind of money a winning football team could generate.

He spotted Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan talking to one of the volunteers.

“What do you have to do to get some food in this place?” David asked.

“David!” Mrs. Sullivan said as she wrapped him in a hug.

“David,” Mr. Sullivan said as they shook hands.

“I hear you guys are busy,” David said.

“We’re upgrading the pool equipment to reduce the amount of chlorine needed,” Mr. Sullivan said.

“What did you go with? I went with a magnesium system for mine,” David said.

“We did, too, because it was rated more kid-friendly and noncorrosive,” Mr. Sullivan said.

“By the way, did you get that trampoline gadget for the football team?” David asked.

He’d recommended the Booster Club purchase one after he’d used it in practice.

“Sure did,” Mr. Sullivan said. “It’s called a football lineman chute. Coach Hope said it helped them a lot.”

“That’s great. So, what’s on the menu for tonight?” David asked, changing the subject.

“Catfish or hot dogs,” Mrs. Sullivan said.

He hadn’t had good catfish since he left, so that was what he picked. While they went to fry his fish, Jeff Delahey, his favorite reporter, came into the building with a woman lugging a video camera. Jeff just sat down at his table while the woman set up her camera and went back to the truck to get lights.

“Assume much?” David asked when Jeff’s helper had left.

“Please. You knew this was coming,”

“Fine, but if you ask me how I feel about something, I might break your camera,” David joked.

It was a running joke with the two of them. David considered that asking how he felt was ‘lazy reporter speak’ which they fell back on when they didn’t have any real questions. He would then give clichéd answers to retaliate. Jeff hated hearing how God was responsible for David’s good play.

“I saw your game against UNLV on TV. You were a one-man wrecking crew. How goes life at USC?” Jeff asked.

“It could be better. I was ‘informed’ I would redshirt this year.”

“Look at it as a blessing. I bet if you could’ve done it over again, you might not have played varsity your freshman year of high school,” Jeff said.

David thought about it for a second before shaking his head ‘no.’

“There are things I would have changed, but that isn’t one of them. I needed that trial by fire to make me better.”

Mrs. Sullivan brought out two plates of catfish and fries and another plate of catfish with steamed broccoli and a salad for David. When Jeff’s camerawoman returned, they ate while David and Jeff caught up.

“I miss this,” David said when they cleared their table so they could do the interview.

Jeff asked his first question once the camerawoman was ready.

“You miss high school?”

“Not high school, but the community and all this. Living in LA makes me realize what I’m missing. This just feels comfortable and safe.”

“Have you been following the Bulldogs this season?”

“Absolutely. My little brother is tearing it up and has Lincoln High undefeated. Tonight will be a big test, though. Eastside is always a good game to measure against, and we’ll find out tonight how good this team will be this year,” David said.

They talked about the honors David was receiving that evening. He said that none of his success would have been possible without his teammates and coaching staff. He also spoke about Lincoln High having the best fans in the state and great boosters who provided financial support for the athletic programs.

When he was done, Jeff was shaking his head.

“I’ll vote for you,” Jeff quipped.

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I just think people forget that I didn’t have all that success on my own,” David said.

“But if you hadn’t been here to lead them?”

David just smiled.

Before the game, David grabbed Jim and Bill. The three of them went to the locker room because David had been asked to give the team a talk.

They came into the locker room as Coach Hope finished giving his final instructions. He introduced David, Jim, and Bill, then let David have the floor.

“We’re past the big speech time. I never really found that they helped me that much,” David said as he looked at all the young faces.

He hadn’t been gone that long, but man, they looked like kids. He remembered most of them as he went from face to face. Despite David’s first impression, they were almost grown men now. The Lincoln High training staff had hit their stride in developing their bodies.

“I know you’ve worked your butts off to have the kind of success you’ve had this year, and I want to thank you for all that hard work. When I was a Bulldog, we prided ourselves that no one outworked us, and by the fourth quarter, we owned our opponent.

“Along the way, I’ve learned the importance of playing with passion and controlled violence in each and every play. Do your job!” David said and paused to make sure they were listening.

“I expect Eastside will try to finesse you with their short passing game. Keep it in front of you, and when you see the ball in the air, you’d better be closing and making them pay when they catch it. Make them have their heads on a swivel, worried about getting hit, and they’ll start dropping balls.

“On offense, I want you linemen to dominate your man. Knock him on his butt. This is a simple game when you’re more physical than they are,” David said.

He looked at Jim and Bill.

“Do you have anything you want to add?”

“I hate Eastside. Knock their dicks in the dirt,” Jim said.

Bill chuckled.

“I think that says it all. Go out and do your job,” Bill added.

“What do you think, boys? Are we going to knock their dicks into the dirt?” Coach Hope asked.

The team roared their approval and stood up to go out.

David was happy to see them line up five abreast and slowly walk to the field, chanting, “Our House!”

The fans heard them coming and took up the chant. Having the whole stadium join made David want to suit up and play. When they reached the goal line, they sprinted to the middle of the field as everyone cheered. David had forgotten about the damned cowbells.

When it was just the three former Bulldogs, Jim said, “We left a legacy.”

“We did. Now let’s go enjoy it,” Bill said.

David felt his chest tighten with pride. They had left their mark after all.

David, Jim, and Bill joined their group in the stands. David noted that the Big Ten was well represented today; he saw coaches from Iowa, Purdue, Wisconsin, Indiana, and Maryland. There were even a couple of SEC schools, such as Missouri and Kentucky; David recognized Don Berta, Kentucky’s recruiting coordinator. Plus, he saw Bo Harrington from Western Michigan in the stands, chatting with Coach Thomas from USC; they’d met at the Houston Elite Camp when David was there. While both Roc and Phil had verbaled to State, where they would join their friend Yuri, it didn’t mean the other schools were giving up.

Telling by their absence was State. They must assume they had Roc and Phil locked down. But then again, their coach was a former NFL coach who didn’t seem to want to get his hands dirty with recruiting. It was why, with him coaching, State would be at the bottom of the Big Ten again this year. David really had to try to find his brother a better landing place.

At the coin toss, David observed that Santayana was right: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” He watched as an Eastside player said something to his brother, and his teammates had to hold Phil back. When would Eastside ever learn not to piss his family off?

“We’re winning big tonight,” David predicted.

Eastside won the toss and deferred to the second half.

When they went out on offense, David—and everyone in the stands—expected the Bulldogs to go deep to Roc. It would put Eastside on notice that they planned to run up the score.

Eastside knew this, too, and sent all three of their linebackers on a blitz.

“DUMP THE BALL!” David yelled at his brother from the stands.

Phil made a rookie mistake. He thought he could play Captain Chaos and began to scramble. Just as he was about to be sacked, he threw a shovel pass—an underhand toss—to his running back, who was almost at the line of scrimmage. David broke out in laughter because it was the perfect play.

The Eastside interior defenders all but broke their ankles turning around to chase the Bulldog running back. Two of the Lincoln linemen let their men go to block downfield. David could tell that Coach Hope had done his job when their running back followed his blocks and, when he found a crease, darted downfield. It was a footrace, which the good guy won to score.

By halftime, the score was 28–3 in favor of Lincoln, and David’s brother had accounted for three of the four touchdowns with his arm. He’d picked a good night to have a great game because David could see the recruiters all grabbing their phones to report in.

When it was time for him to go out and accept his awards, David heard the opening refrain of his theme song in high school, AC/DC’s Thunderstruck. His junior year, during baseball season, they’d had to ban the playing of the song because it pissed off the opposing pitchers, who’d retaliated by drilling him.

’Fuck Eastside,’ David thought.

He began to dance out onto the field as he motioned for his old teammates and cheerleaders to join him. They all began to bob their heads and wiggle what God gave them, to the delight of the Lincoln High faithful.

Waiting in the middle of the field was Governor Higgins, looking confused.

“Loosen up and join us,” David called out.

The governor shook his head but then began to bob his head to the beat. David reached out and took the microphone from him.

“What do you think?! Has Eastside been thunderstruck in the first half?!”

The crowd voiced their agreement. He handed the microphone back to the governor.

Governor Higgins waited until the crowd had somewhat settled down before running through all the accolades they were piling onto David. There were the requisite plaques, jerseys, and the like, with the associated photos taken with each. Then, the president of the High School Athletic Association joined the governor at midfield. He announced that David was being inducted into their Hall of Fame for both baseball and football.

It was time for David to share his feelings about what everyone had done for him.

“First of all, thank you. Growing up here and going to school at Lincoln High means so much to me. And, of course, these awards are for everyone because no one can do all this on their own.”

David had said that a hundred times, so he knew his former teammates and fans already knew how he felt about them.

“Coming back has brought back so many fond memories. I scored my first touchdown on this field when everyone thought I was a running back. We then went on to win three straight state championships and one in baseball. We set the bar high for the teams to come,” he said and paused.

“You want to know a secret?”

Of course, they did. David saw the teams waiting for him to finish, so he had to wrap this up.

“We’re going to win another one this year!”

The crowd roared.

“Beat Eastside! Go Bulldogs!”

David had thought that the ZonaZoo was loud. They had nothing on Lincoln High when the place got rocking—to say nothing of the cowbells.