As luck—truly bad luck—would have it, the first two people Jeff ran into when he walked into school the next day were his teammates Ron Arlow and Ron’s best friend, Mark Adkins.
“Nice try, Michaels,” Arlow sneered. “Your old man’s lame story isn’t going to change a thing.”
Jeff had watched the Steve Bucci piece on Channel Three before leaving for school, and it had hit many of the same themes as his dad’s story. He had also read a column on the front page of that morning’s Philadelphia Inquirer’s sports section by a columnist named Bob Ford. He’d then made the mistake of diving into the comments section of the columns online. Most sided with Andi, but a few were sickeningly sexist.
Since Jeff wasn’t Ford’s son, he’d seen no reason not to quote him.
“She’s a much better player than I am,” Jeff had told Ford. “She’s a better player than most of us. To me, a coach’s job is to have the best team possible. Leaving Andi off the team just because she’s a girl makes us a weaker team.”
He had a feeling Coach J wouldn’t be too happy with that quote and he’d be in trouble—again—at practice that afternoon. He’d thought about that before talking to Ford. What the heck, he’d decided, is he going to cut my playing time?
Of course, Jeff might get thrown off the team. That was okay at this point. He’d proven something to himself by making the team, but he wasn’t having a lot of fun, so if the coach wanted to be like that, fine.
All those thoughts flashed through his mind as Arlow stood in front of him, his face twisted into that ugly smirk.
“We’ll see, won’t we, Arlow?” Jeff said. “If I thought you could read, I’d tell you to check the Inquirer this morning. You might not be so confident then. My dad’s not the only one on this story.”
For a split second Jeff thought Arlow was going to hit him.
Arlow actually had his right hand balled into a fist. But, finally, he just shook his head and said, “You’re not worth it,” and turned and walked away.
Jeff breathed a sigh of relief.
When he climbed the steps to the second floor, which was where the sixth-grade classrooms were all located, he found Andi waiting for him at the top of the stairway. The five-minute bell was ringing when he saw her standing there with a huge grin on her face.
“I thought maybe you weren’t showing up today,” she said.
“I got … delayed,” he said, deciding against repeating his conversation with Arlow.
“Well, guess what?” she said. “Mr. Block called the house this morning and asked if my parents can come in to meet with him and Coach J at lunchtime.”
Jeff’s eyes went wide. “You too?” he said.
She nodded. “Yup, me too. I don’t want to get carried away, but I think the plan may have worked. My mom says I have to stay off social media while this is going on, but she says that most people are just crushing Coach Johnston and the school.”
“I’ll bet that got Block’s attention,” Jeff said.
The late bell was ringing.
“I’ll let you know,” she said as they both started sprinting down the hall.
Thank goodness, Jeff thought, neither of us takes geology.
“I think everyone knows why we’re here,” Mr. Block said.
He had offered Andi’s parents something to drink when they arrived, but they’d said, “No, thanks.” Coach Johnston walked in a moment later along with Coach Crist.
Coach Crist introduced himself to Andi’s parents before sitting down. Coach Johnston barely nodded at the three Carillos and Mr. Block as he sat down in the remaining empty chair.
“We’re here,” Coach Johnston said, “because it appears people can be intimidated by fake news.”
Before Mr. Block could respond, Andi’s dad jumped in.
“Oh, please, that tired claim doesn’t work when the president uses it, and it certainly doesn’t apply here. The stories said you cut Andi because she’s a girl. What’s fake about that basic fact?”
Coach J glared at Andi’s dad, who glared right back.
Mr. Block intervened. “Hang on, gentlemen, let’s keep this civil,” he said. “There’s no point in arguing tactics or fake news or anything else. Let’s stick to what happens next. That’s all that matters.”
“Okay then,” Andi’s mom said. “What happens next, Mr. Block?”
Mr. Block sighed and looked at his head coach.
“The truth is I don’t like feeling pressured into making decisions by the media or by social media for that matter,” Mr. Block said. “But my gut has told me that the mistake here was mine, in telling Coach Johnston he could have final say on who made the team—regardless.”
“That is what you committed to,” Coach Johnston said. “And—”
Mr. Block held up a hand to stop him. “And if you had made an unbiased and fair decision to keep Miss Carillo off the team, I’d have been fine with it,” he said. “You didn’t, though. You had no intention of putting her on the team, regardless of how she played. To me, now that the media has forced me to rethink, the deal we made wasn’t adhered to in good faith.”
“So you’re going to overrule me and add Miss Carillo to the team,” Coach J said.
“That’s right. We will find her a uniform, and I’ll pay for one out of my own pocket if need be. This may not be the right way to get to it, but I believe this is the right decision.”
“You’re just bowing to public pressure then,” the coach added.
“Absolutely,” Mr. Block said with a smile. “Because the public is right.”
“Do you expect me to cut one of the boys to meet the fifteen-player limit?” Coach Johnston asked. “Jeff Michaels, for instance? Do you think that’s fair?”
Mr. Block held up a hand. “I already spoke to the overseer for middle school athletics for the district. Not surprisingly, they are aware of the situation. They are going to authorize all nine teams in our conference to add a sixteenth player—if the coaches so desire. By the way, apparently, other schools already have girls on their teams.”
Coach J didn’t have an answer for that. He stood up. “Well then, you should probably start thinking about finding another coach.”
“I already have,” Mr. Block answered. “That’s why I asked Coach Crist to come to this meeting.” He looked at his other teacher. “Jason, would you be willing to take over?”
Mr. Crist shot a glance at Mr. Johnston and sighed. Then he gave a rueful smile and said, “If necessary. And I’d love to have Andi on the team. It will make us better.”
His fellow coach stood up and glared at him. Then he shook his head and walked to the door.
There was silence in the room, broken finally by Mr. Block.
“Hal, if you’re at practice this afternoon, I’ll assume that means you’re going to continue as coach. If not, Jason, you’re in charge—and your first job is to find Andi a uniform by Friday. Bill me if need be.”
“Not a problem,” Mr. Crist said.
Coach J, his face crimson, turned and walked out of the room.
“He won’t quit,” Coach C said after he was gone. “He loves coaching. And, deep down, he knows we’ll be better with Andi on the team.” He stood up and shook Andi’s hand. “Welcome aboard, Andi. Can’t wait to see you at practice today.”
Andi stood up and accepted the handshake. “I can’t wait, either,” she said.
She meant it. But she was hoping that Coach C was wrong and that Coach J would be nowhere to be found at three thirty that afternoon.