There’s still real grass and dirt on the fields surrounding the stadium, but they play their games on synthetic grass. He grew up playing Pop Warner football on rec-league fields. The grass torn into mud by October, standing water after a rain, no way to run without stumbling in ruts and divots. By contrast, the turf at the stadium is immaculate. The football field is perfectly flat, the plastic grass a smooth mat, the seams sewn together and invisible. The school district rakes the plastic fibers and sweeps the field clean regularly. The rubber pellet infill mixed with some type of sand means that even when it is raining, the water drains quickly. But the sleet is starting to stick. It’s coming down hard enough that the Kilton Valley Cougars aren’t going to risk throwing the ball. Which is good for the Cortaca High School Bears. Injuries have meant relying on a third-string quarterback. The Bears have won with defense the whole year. They aren’t going to win a shoot-out, so anything that keeps the ball on the ground for the other side is a net win as far as Jessup is concerned. Another ten minutes like this and a thick slick of sleet will cover the lines. It will be slippery. Straight-line running. Bloody-nose football. Ugly football. Jessup is excited.
They jog into the stadium to muted applause. The stands are nothing like what you’d find in Texas. Not even big enough to fit two thousand people. And today, with the weather, even though this is a playoff game, the first in forty years, the first home playoff game in even longer, the stands are only half full. There is no history of excellence. Jessup’s stepfather played, and he only had one winning season. Jessup’s brother played, too, and they were winless three out of four years. Both Ricky and David John write regularly, follow the team best they can from prison. Living vicariously. Ricky wrote this week to say how much he wished he could be there to see Jessup suit up for the playoffs. Loves that Jessup wears his old number. Brothers. But if he can’t be there, at least David John is going to get to see Jessup play tonight. Can hardly believe Cortaca is in the playoffs.
Jessup can believe it. Both his freshman and sophomore campaigns were marked as three-win seasons. But between his sophomore and junior years, Cortaca High School hired Coach Diggins and the team got good. They missed the playoffs last year by a shanked field goal in overtime, a pain so keen that Jessup actually cried on the sidelines. This year, though, it’s been clear that they were headed for the playoffs. They are still not a favorite to win, but most people think they have some chance. There’s energy. It doesn’t translate to a full stadium, however. Call it twelve hundred people, but the crowd is big enough for Jessup. He looks for his mother and Jewel and David John, but he can’t find them.
They’ve already done warm-ups and then gone back to the locker rooms for last-minute pep talks, reminders of assignments, a final chance to take a piss or squeeze out a nervous crap. Some of the boys puke before every game. But now there are only a few minutes before the whistle. Jessup takes a couple of runs up and down the field, getting a feel for how slippery it is. He sees Coach Diggins chatting with one of the referees.
Diggins should have picked Jessup as one of the four captains—Mike Crean, whom Jessup is friends with, is a good player but not as good as Jessup, was named one of the captains—but he didn’t. Took Jessup into his office the week before the first game of the season and said that it wasn’t just about how good you were on the field. It wasn’t enough to be the best player on the team. Leadership. Jessup doesn’t talk enough, Diggins says. Loners don’t make good leaders. Oh, Jessup talks during games; he calls out formations and changes the defensive read. All off-season, Jessup was one of the group of players that Diggins had come to his home on Sunday afternoons to do film study so that they understood the game better. He’s taken to it. His junior year he was good, but this season he’s been a stud. He’s a late recruit, but colleges have come calling. Part of it is that he’s big and fast, but it’s more now—because all that time in Diggins’s office has meant that the game’s slowed down for him. Doesn’t matter if he’s playing strong side or weak side, he’s directing the defense. Should be the middle linebacker calling it out, except that even though Damian Greene is a solid player, he can’t read the offense quick enough, so it’s Jessup’s job to play traffic cop. But even though Diggins has occasionally named other players as additional captains for a game, an honor given out, he’s never named Jessup.
“Hope you understand, son,” Diggins said in his slow Mississippi drawl.