for you … for all of us for such a long time.” He kicked at a clump of grass and put his hands on his hips. “They need to care more.”
“They will.” He winked at his player … the kid who had become like a younger brother. “Keep praying, Smitty.”
DeMetri didn’t look sure. He pursed his lips and blew out hard, sweat spraying. Anger played out in his expression, and he shook his legs, trying to stay loose. Finally he nodded, his intensity stronger than before, but more controlled. “Yes, sir. I’ll pray.”
“I’ll count on that.”
Cody watched him return to the others, his shoulders back, his purpose clear. During the last set of drills, Cody let DeMetri and two other guys lead the team. He called the other coaches over and the three of them huddled off by themselves. “I need to know about the players … whatever there is to know.”
The two assistants looked at each other and then at Cody. “You would know more than us.” Schroeder took his baseball cap from his head and smoothed his hair back, clearly at a loss. “We only just started coaching.”
“Not about their playing ability.” Cody kept his voice low, between just the three of them. “About them as people. Who’s struggling with what … where the challenges are … that sort of thing.” Cody explained what he knew. “DeMetri’s mom is in prison again … he’s living in the guest room of my apartment.” He paused, making sure they understood. “Arnie’s sleeping with his girlfriend … talk is she could be pregnant even now … that sort of thing.”
The men nodded, and Coach Braswell took the lead. “I’ve been teaching at Lyle for six years. I’ve watched these kids grow up. Wells and Bronson … their dads are out of work. The bank’s trying to foreclose last I heard.”
“Larry Sanders’ little sister has bone cancer.” Coach Schroeder’s eyes softened. “His home life’s a mess.”
“And Terry Allen’s house burned down last month. The whole family’s living with his grandpa.” A knowing filled Braswell’s eyes. “For the most part the kids don’t have a clue what the guy next to them is going through. It’s a small town, but people are very private. No one talks … no one complains.” He nodded slowly. “I see what you mean.”
Cody felt satisfied. This was what he figured — the guys were each dealing with something. Same as any teenager on any other football team. “Alright … this is what I’m talking about.” He looked over his shoulder at the guys on the field. “If those guys knew these things about each other, they’d stop feeling like a bunch of individuals from Lyle. And start feeling like a family.”
Slowly the idea began to make sense. Cody watched the change happen in the faces of his assistants. Schroeder nodded big. “I get it. Like maybe they need a reason to care.”
“Exactly.” Cody stared at the players running drills on the field. “Now all we need is a plan.”
That afternoon he called Jim Flanigan. “I heard one of the guys on the Colts has a foundation to help high school football teams with small budgets. Is that right?”
“Absolutely.” Jim explained the player and his charity. They talked for fifteen minutes before Cody’s idea fully came together. After another half hour and a series of phone calls, Cody couldn’t have been happier.
Now it was a matter of praying that his idea would work.
Eighteen
THAT NIGHT AFTER DINNER, WHEN THE GUYS WERE EXHAUSTED from another group session, and still one more team practice, Cody called a meeting. With everyone in a room on the first floor of the dorms he set his plan in motion.
“We have a chance to help someone.” He looked around the room, studying their eyes. Only a few of them showed even a slight bit of interest. Cody reminded himself to be patient. They were tired, but that didn’t matter. They needed to respond when they were tired or they’d never respond at all. “I didn’t hear your answer.”
The guys rallied, pulling together a mediocre, “Yes, sir.”
“What?”
This time they were louder, more together. “Yes, sir!”
“Okay, then … here’s the deal.” He shared a quick look with his coaches, both anchored against the wall near the door, their arms crossed. They believed in his plan. It was their job to watch for dissenters — since it only took one for the plan not to work. “There’s a football team in central Indiana … the coach wants to