Coach motions for the team to take a knee, and we all look up at him. I can see in his face that he’s heard about the possibility of Warren High closing too. His jaw is tight as he chomps down on a piece of cinnamon gum, and there’s a deep crease across his forehead.
He holds up two fingers.
“Two days to get ready,” Coach says. “Two days to prepare. Two days to work on efficiency and focus and speed. The Titans might be a bigger team, with a deeper bench, but we have played this season like a well-oiled machine. And that’s how we’ll win. We are going to be flawless out there. No mistakes.”
“No mistakes!” we all shout back.
Then Anton stands up and looks at Coach. At six foot two, he’s nearly as tall as Coach, but he’s not as wide.
Anton takes off his helmet and holds it in his hands. “Coach, are they thinking of closing Warren High down?”
The rest of the team starts talking all at once. A bunch of us stand up. Coach chews on his gum for a few seconds too long. Then holds up his hands and doesn’t say a thing until we are quiet again and down on one knee.
“That’s all just talk,” he says and then looks at each of us. “And we can’t let this talk break our focus. We need to concentrate on beating the Titans. We can’t focus on something that isn’t clear. Focus on now. Focus on here. Focus on how to win Friday night.”
“But we need to know,” Anton pushes. “Is it true? Will there be a vote?”
Coach takes off his baseball hat and runs his fingers through his short hair.
“Enough,” he says. “We can practice and work hard or talk about rumors and gossip.”
“If the board is thinking about closing down our school . . .” Anton starts. I can tell he’s about to give a speech about how a win could change the school board’s mind, but Coach cuts him off.
“Run the stairs,” Coach points to the stands.
I watch Anton turn around, but I have his back. I’ve always had his back. I stand up and say what he wanted to say: “That’s why we have to play like we’ve never played before. We have to make this town care about our school. If they have pride in us, in this school, they aren’t going to let the board shut us down.”
Coach looks at me and is quiet for a moment. That was the most I’ve ever said in front of this team. I’m not one of the guys that gives pep talks; I usually keep my head down.
“Busby,” he says slowly. “Nice speech. Now you can join Anton and run the stairs. Fifty times. Up and down. Now. Go.”
Anton and I head to the bleachers.
“He knows we’re right,” Anton says.
I nod at this. The two of us make a good team—I have no idea what I’ll do if we’re split up.
“We’re going to win,” Anton says. “We can’t just let the Wolves go down without a fight. We need to keep playing for as long as we can.”