reporter. Already he could see the man was swept up in the small-town support and the miracle unfolding beneath the Friday night lights.
John Marshall hadn’t had a losing season in ten years, so it was no surprise when they responded with a touchdown, marching eighty yards and knocking seven minutes off the clock to tie the score. Lyle was up by just three points heading into halftime, but before the team ran for the locker room, they lined up on the field and watched as Larry Sanders met up with his little sister near the jam-packed stands. He hoisted her onto his sturdy shoulders and brought her out to the fifty-yard line.
The athletic director handed him a mic, but before he could say a single word, the applause began. Slowly at first and then louder, with an intensity that brought the entire town to their feet, cheering and hollering and clapping for Larry and his sister and the love of a football team that would give everything they had to save the life of one sick little girl.
In the end, there wasn’t much Larry could say, not much he needed to say. He thanked the businesses and families, the backbone of Lyle … and then he turned to the sidelines and thanked his teammates. Finally he hugged his sister tight, holding onto her for a long time before the two of them left the field together, the girl on his shoulders once again.
Cody caught a glimpse of Chey and Tara in the stands, the two of them hugging the way so many of the fans were. The clapping continued and Cody looked back at the reporter again. He was wiping his eyes, and the sight made Cody know for certain one thing: Hans Tesselaar got the story. Got it with his heart — where the message mattered most.
The reporter joined them in the locker room for Cody’s halftime talk, and though he didn’t ask questions, he scribbled furiously. As Cody drew his men into a huddle once more, and as they chanted the words that had become familiar, Cody mouthed a message to the man. “You might want to get this.”
Hans nodded and pulled out a small video camera. Cody led the guys one more time through the cry that by now came from deep within their souls. When it was over, the team ran out onto the field and proceeded to tear apart the John Marshall defense. Hurley threw touchdown passes of seven and thirty-eight yards to Larry Sanders, and after he caught the last one he ran by the stands and pointed to his little sister.
Again the crowd erupted into a standing ovation, one that lasted through much of the fourth quarter. At the final whistle the Buckaroos had soundly taken hold of the league title with a forty-five to fourteen thrashing of John Marshall. Like most of their home games, the fans poured onto the field, filling every open spot and clamoring around the football players for a chance to congratulate them, pat them on the back, or wish them the best for their upcoming run through play-offs. But before they could do that, DeMetri yelled for the team to follow him.
Every day after practice last spring, DeMetri had taken the jog to the end zone and prayed by himself, prayed for the coaches and the players and his role on the Lyle team. But here, beneath the lights of their last league game, the entire team took the jog with him. In the end zone they all dropped to one knee, close together so that it was impossible to tell who had their arms around whose shoulders. Cody and the other coaches ran over to join them, and for the next several minutes the guys took turns thanking God … for the season, for the unlikely wins, and for bringing Cody to them. But most of all for the miracle He was giving Larry’s little sister.
“Really, God,” DeMetri finished the prayer, “the miracle was for all of us. We were all sick in one way or another.”
Cody thought about DeMetri’s low point — when his mother had been put in prison and the kid had been sleeping in the wrestling room at school. He blinked back tears, listening.
“We set out to play football your way, and we did that,” DeMetri continued. “Now we ask that You do one more thing for us … help us never forget this season. In Jesus’ name, amen.”