Not Another Bad Date by Rachel Gibson Page A

necessary and were relieved that only two veins popped out on Joe’s forehead. For most of Zach’s life, he’d been a quarterback, not a coach, but he’d played ball for some of the best coaches and some of the worst. He’d led teams to championships, and he knew the difference between being stern and going off on a tirade. He knew that players would leave their blood on the field for someone they respected and who respected them. A good coach inspired that kind of respect.
    When Joe was finished, Zach stepped in front of the marker board. “Y’all know what you gotta do,” he said. “You go out there and make those Midland boys sorry that they showed up today.” He pointed to the defensive ends. “If you get blocked, I better hear it from where I’m standin’, and I don’t want to see you getting stopped by any more of those pussy finesse blocks. You get around those boys and run upfield like someone lit your ass on fire. You go after that quarterback and force him to get rid of that ball before he’s ready.” He pushed his ball cap to the back of his head and gathered the team around him. “The first half of this game is history, gentlemen. There isn’t anything we can do about it now. Let’s put it behind us.
    “Last week when we lost Don, everyone started saying we were done. But I don’t believe that. One player does not make a team great. It’s what’s in each player’s heart and gut that makes a team great. It’s your job to go out there and show you have the guts and heart to turn this game around. I know you can do it. Tonight’s battle is not over. We’re not finished. We’re only down by fourteen, let’s go show ’em y’all are winners.”
    He looked them all in the face. “So let’s hear it together: hearts, guts, glory.”
    “Hearts, guts, glory!” the team shouted as they butted helmets.
    “Now get out there and kick some Bulldog ass!”
    Zach and the other coaches followed behind the team, the sound of cleats on concrete bouncing off the tunnel walls. The Cougars broke onto the field running as the Cedar Creek band played the school fight song. The players butted chests and helmets and fists, and in the second half, the defense finally broke through the Midland offensive line and rushed their quarterback. The Cougars closed the gap in the score and in the last few seconds of the game kicked a thirty-seven-yard field goal to win by three points.
    As Zach filed off the field with his boys, he thought about the mistakes made in the first half. Next Friday night’s game was against Amarillo in Lubbock, and the Sandies had one of the toughest defenses of any team they’d played so far. If the Cougars played like they had against Midland, they’d get their asses handed to them and their run for the state championship would be over.
    After the game, more than a dozen buses waited outside the stadium to be filled with players, cheerleaders, band and drill-team members, sponsors, and Cedar Creek students. Zach had driven his Escalade to Midland, preferring the comfort and speed of his Cadillac to that of a bus.
    Usually, Tiffany went to the games, but not if it meant traveling.
    He made it home in two and a half hours and fell into bed at 1:00 A.M. There was never practice on Sundays, and he planned to take advantage of it and sleep. Tiffany had other plans.
    “Daddy,” she said, shaking his shoulder.
    He cracked his eyes open. “What time is it?”
    “Nine.”
    “This had better be an emergency.”
    “It is. We need to get stuff for my party.”
    “What party?”
    “My dance-team party. It’s today. Did you forget?”
    For a few blissful hours he had forgotten that his house would be invaded by a dozen screaming thirteen-year-olds. “Christ on a crutch,” he groaned.
    “Don’t swear,” his thirteen-year-old said, sounding a lot like his mother.
    “Sorry.”
    “Get up. We gotta get some burgers and stuff ’cause I wanna barbecue outside. You said we could,