High school coaches were allowed to walk the lines, casting glances and keeping their players in order. Cody headed toward Arnie and Joel, and the boys noticed him. Immediately they paid attention. The other players seemed to pick up their pace.
Even still, by morning break — after their first team session — Cody wasn’t impressed. “Listen up.” He called his guys over, and when they didn’t run, he blew the whistle around his neck. The sound got their attention and most of them hurried into place in front of him. “Listen.” He didn’t want to get angry. But if they didn’t find something special at camp, the time would be a waste. “This isn’t the picnic. We have to be serious.”
He called his assistants over. “Everyone knows their playbook, right?”
A murmur of yes‘s and sort of‘s came from the crowd. Cody tried to keep his patience. “We will know our playbook by tomorrow. If we don’t, we will use every minute of our team time to run the perimeter of the college.” He looked over the players, catching the surprise in some of their eyes. He hadn’t been this strict with them before. There had been no need. “Does everyone understand?”
Again the response was weak and mumbled. DeMetri shot an angry look at his team. “Did you hear, Coach? That’s not how you answer, y’all. Understand?”
Cody swallowed the smile that played in his heart. DeMetri was a leader. He needed several of those — but this was a start. The sort of beginning his team would need if the week were to matter. “Smitty is right!” Again Cody’s voice boomed. He remembered Jim’s advice. Take charge … let them know you’re in charge. They have to know what you expect. Cody lowered his clipboard. “When I ask you a question, you respond as a team. You say, ‘Yes, sir.’ Is that understood?”
The response was better than before, but nowhere near where Cody wanted it. He raised his voice again. “I said … is that understood?”
This time most of the team figured out what they were doing wrong. Their voices came together again in a fairly loud chorus of “Yes, sir,” and “Yes, Coach.”
Cody caught the satisfied nods from his assistant coaches. They were making progress. “Good. Now let’s get to work.”
The afternoon teamwork was long and arduous, and temperatures hovered in the high nineties. Cody gave them numerous water breaks, and at the last one DeMetri approached him. “Guys are going through the motions.” He looked ready to cry, sweat pouring down his face. “I’ve been praying for this team … 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 keep their name anonymous.” Cody had rehearsed this part. He kept eye contact, his tone intense. “These guys have been hit by so many problems they’re thinking of not playing this year. They aren’t sure they’ll have a team.”
The guys shifted, curious and maybe even slightly irritated. DeMetri raised his hand. “Do we play this team, Coach?” He looked at Arnie and Marcos. “I mean, are we supposed to help the competition?”
“No.” Cody shook his head, adamant. “They’re not on our schedule.”
Again the guys shifted, wary, their eyes on Cody.
“Every day we’ll have a chance to win three-thousand dollars for one of the players on that team — money that could make the difference for whether that player stays with football or not.” He paced to the other side of the room, looking each guy straight on. “The prize money is being put up by a player from the Indianapolis Colts, and it involves only our team.” He stopped and folded his arms. “Here’s the catch. We can only win the money on one condition — we have to take first place that day here at camp. Every day Coach Henry picks Lyle as the number one school, every day Lyle has the most points for the day — we’ll earn three-thousand dollars for one of the players’ famil
ies on that Indiana team.”
The indifference on the guys’ faces confirmed Cody’s fears about this stage of his plan. Why should they care about some other team … or the problems of a group of guys they didn’t even know? Cody took a deep breath and made it more personal. “Tomorrow we raise money for an eight-year-old girl with bone cancer.” Cody paused. “She has already lost most of her right leg, and now the cancer has spread.”
He was careful not to stare, but out of the corner of his eyes Cody saw Larry Sanders hang his head. “This little girl’s family needs three-thousand dollars for an experimental medication that might … it just might save her life.” He paused, his voice ringing through the room. “Imagine if that little girl was your sister. Missing school … missing time on the playground with her friends … struggling with crutches and hoping to see another summer.” His voice fell, and he struggled with his own emotions. “Three-thousand dollars, men. You can win that money for her tomorrow.”
Suddenly, with the slow certainty of a sunrise, Cody watched the message begin to sink in. The guys stood straight, their expressions intense. A few of them even had tears in their eyes. “Are we ready to win this thing tomorrow? For that little girl?”
The guys shifted, restless, like they were ready to get started. “Yes, sir!”
Their voices came together in a resounding response that caught even Cody off guard. He clapped a few times. “Alright … let’s bring it in.” They gathered around him more quickly than they had at any time that day, their hands high at the center of the circle. “Dear God … use us. Bring us together and use us. That’s all we ask, Lord. In Jesus’ name, amen.” He paused briefly. “Whose way?”
“His way!” The guys were loud … intense because of what they now knew about the girl with cancer.
“Whose way?” Cody’s voice boomed out from among them. “His way!”
“Three thousand … on three …” Cody didn’t let up. “One … two … three …”
“Three thousand!” The words were a cry, a shout that echoed against the walls of the room.
Cody could see the smiles on the faces of his coaches. “Alright, men, let’s get some rest. We have a big day ahead of us.”
After praying much of the night for his guys, the next day was like a scene from a feel-good movie. From the moment the Lyle guys began stretching drills after breakfast until the last play of the afternoon scrimmage, his Buckaroos played with a heart and desire Cody had never seen. Arnie threw passes even he hadn’t known he was capable of, and Marcos blocked like his life depended on it. Only a few times did Cody have to call the guys together and remind them, saying things like, “She’ll never run like the other girls … but at least she has a chance to live. It’s up to you, men. Help her live! One … two … three …”
“Three thousand!” Fire filled the guys’ expressions, and their eyes shone with a determination nothing could thwart. They were playing their hearts out for a little girl they didn’t know. The other players at the camp had no idea what had gotten into the Lyle guys, but as Coach Henry announced the winner for the day no one was surprised.
“Our first place team is Lyle High.” His gruff disposition was gone, and a mix of humor and bewilderment filled his voice. “Not sure if maybe you Lyle boys got things mixed up … this isn’t the state play-offs.”
A round of lighthearted laughter came from the players — even the Buckaroos. Marcos Brown walked to the front of the group to accept the Sunday trophy. He held it up and there was no mistaking the glimmer in his eyes. Marcos was fighting back tears. Cody understood why. Lyle wasn’t a wealthy town … none of the football players had ever made that much money … or even imagined it. But together they had done what might’ve felt impossible just twenty-four hours earlier. They’d raised three-thousand dollars for a sick little girl, the sister of a football player they didn’t even know.
That night, when the celebrating had let up, Cody told them their next assignment. “There’s a guy on that team, his house burned down. Family lost everything.” This time it was Terry Allen who briefly hung his head. But he looked up quickly, intent about the task at hand. “Habitat for Humanity is going to rebuild their house … but they need money for supplies. Three-thousand dollars, men. That’s what it will take to get them started, to make sure this football player and his family have a roof over their heads as winter hits in a few months.”
This time the guys rounded up more quickly, and their voices rang with a pride that hadn’t been there the day before. Because now they knew they were capable, and the same was true the next day as they intensified their efforts for every drill, every session. “A roof for the winter … come on, men,” Cody yelled a few times throughout the day. “One … two … three …” “Three thousand!”
No one was surprised when Lyle again took the Monday trophy, and so the pattern was set. Tuesday and Wednesday they played for the family of a football player who needed three-thousand dollars to make back payments and keep their house from being taken away. “They can be homeless, or they can keep their houses.” Cody kept finding new levels of passion for the work at hand. “It’s up to you, men!”
The Lyle team worked harder. Tuesday’s trophy and Wednesday’s trophy, and on Thursday they won the money for a kid whose mom was in prison, a kid with no clothes, and no way to take the weekly trip to visit his mother behind bars. “Bus money so a football player on this team can talk to his mom once a week!” Cody allowed the incredulousness to slip into his tone. “Can you imagine that? Not having your mom there when you get home from school? We can do this, men … we can.”
By the time Friday rolled around, the guys were thicker than brothers. Not only because they’d found new levels of effort and because they’d won a combined fifteen-thousand dollars for the families of a bunch of football players they didn’t know. But because other teams were rising to the challenge, doubling their efforts, doing whatever they could to take the last day’s trophy away from Lyle. This time the prize money would go to counseling for a handful of players whose grades were too low to get them into college.
“These are guys who have no chance without a college education … and no chance at college unless they get some help.” Cody paced in front of the guys that morning before stretching drills. “Someday you might find yourself getting a home loan or a doctor’s appointment, and the guy helping you will be standing there — not homeless on a bench somewhere — because of what you men do today.” He was talking loud, underlining the importance of their efforts. “Do you understand? How important this is?”
“Yes, sir!” Their answer was crisp and bellowing, in complete unison.
“Okay …” Cody stifled the smile bursting through him. “One … two … three …” “Three thousand!”
That day the competition was closer than it had been all week, and what Cody saw made him and the other coaches watch in silent awe. The guys pushed each other on, refusing to let one of them lag behind. “Come on,” DeMetri shouted at Arnie. “Don’t give up. Those guys are counting on us!” It was a scene that was repeated throughout the day even as Burton High made a serious run at the Friday trophy.
But when Coach Henry took the platform that night, he only shook his head, dazed. “I’ve been running this camp for more than a decade.” He looked across the sea of football players. “I’ve never seen anyone play with more intensity than Lyle High played this week. For the first time in the camp’s history — first place goes to the same school all six days. The winner of the Friday trophy is the Lyle High Buckaroos!”
The guys looked back at him, and Cody understood. He nodded his approval, and the entire group ran to the front to accept their prize. As they jumped around, holding the trophy overhead, their faces lit up with smiles and cheers, only Cody and his other coaches understood what they were celebrating. Not until that night did Cody call a meeting in the same room where they’d met six days ago.
“I’m very … very proud of you, men.” Cody ch
oked up as he faced them. “You proved what you’re capable of … and you proved how much you care.” He paused, hoping he could get through the next part without breaking down. “I want to tell you something about that team, the team you’ve been fighting for and playing your hearts out for all week long.”
The guys were seated on the floor, a camaraderie between them that hadn’t been there when they arrived at camp. They looked interested, but not overly so. It didn’t matter what team they had competed for … but only that they had done so. A group of lives would be changed because of their efforts this week. That was the important thing. Cody could see that in their faces. Clearly they had no idea what was coming.
“That team … the one you won eighteen-thousand dollars for … they’re here at camp this week.”
Cody’s players looked slightly baffled, and a whisper of voices came from a few of them as they tried to guess which team here at camp might’ve struggled with so much adversity. When he had their attention again, Cody dropped his voice — low enough so the guys had to strain to hear him. “What’s amazing about this team, is that only the coaches knew about their troubles. Guys were seated next to each other this week, blocking tacklers side by side … throwing touchdown passes to guys they didn’t know were struggling.”
He shrugged, never breaking eye contact. “The team was on the verge of collapse … guys ready to give up. But no one knew.” He let his voice rise a little. “You know why? Because they weren’t a team. They were a bunch of guys who wanted to play football. But they didn’t talk … didn’t share … didn’t care at all about the man on their right or their left.”
The room was dead silent, each player waiting to find out which team they’d competed against that week that might’ve been so unaware of their own struggles. Finally, when Cody couldn’t wait another minute, he looked at each of them and nodded with a certainty that hinted at what was to come. “That team is you, men. It’s you.”