here at the graveside ceremony. Everybody was watching Rake, who looked quite pitiful.”
“Rake was a great actor.”
“And everybody knew it. He’d been firedless than twenty-four hours earlier, so the funeral had the added drama of his departure. Quite a show, and nobody missed it.”
“Wish I’d been here.”
“Where were you?”
“Summer of ’92? Out West somewhere. Probably Vancouver.”
“The boosters tried to convene a massive meeting on Wednesday in the school gym. Reardon said, ‘Not on this campus.’ So they went to the VFW and had an Eddie Rake revival. Some of the hotheads threatened to cut off the money, boycott the games, picket Reardon’s office, even start a new school, where I guess they would worship Rake.”
“Was Rake there?”
“Oh no. He sent Rabbit. He was content to stay at home and work the phones. He truly believed that he could exert enough pressure to get his job back. But Reardon wasn’t budging. He went to the assistants and named Snake Thomas as the new head coach. Snake declined. Reardon fired him. Donnie Malone said no. Reardon fired him. Quick Upchurch said no. Reardon fired him.”
“I like this guy more and more.”
“Finally, the Griffin brothers said they would fill in until someone was found. They played for Rake in the late seventies—”
“I remember them. The pecan orchard.”
“That’s them. Great players, nice guys, and because Rake never changed anything they knew the system, the plays, most of the kids. Friday night rolled around, first game of the season. We were playing Porterville, and the boycott was on. Problem was, nobody wanted to miss the game. Rake’s folks, who were probably in the majority, couldn’t stay away because they wanted the team to get slaughtered. The real fans were there for the right reasons. The place was packed, as always, with complicated loyalties yelling in all directions. The players were pumped. They dedicated the game to Scotty, and won by four touchdowns. A wonderful night. Sad, because of Scotty, and sad because the Rake era was apparently over, but winning is everything.”
“This bench is hard,” Neely said, standing. “Let’s walk.”
“Meanwhile, Rake hired a lawyer. A suit was filed, things got ugly, Reardon held his ground,and the town, though deeply divided, still managed to come together every Friday night. The team played with more guts than I’ve ever seen. Years later, one kid I know said it was such a relief playing football for the sheer fun of it, and not playing out of fear.”
“How beautiful is that?”
“We never knew.”
“No, we didn’t.”
“They won the first eight games. Undefeated. Nothing but pride and guts. There was talk of a state title. There was talk of a new streak. There was talk of paying the Griffins a bunch of money to start a new dynasty. All that crap.”
“Then they lost?”
“Of course. It’s football. A bunch of kids start thinking they’re good, and they get their butts kicked.”
“Who did it?”
“Hermantown.”
“No, not Hermantown! That’s a basketball school.”
“Did it right here, in front of ten thousand. Worst game I ever saw. No pride, no guts, just show them the next press clipping. Forget astreak. Forget a state title. Fire the Griffins. Bring back Eddie Rake. Things were sort of okay when we were winning, but that one loss ripped this town apart for years. And when we lost the next week we failed to qualify for the playoffs. The Griffins quit immediately.”
“Smart boys.”
“Those of us who played for Rake were caught in the middle. Everyone asked, ‘Which side are you on?’ No fence straddling, bud, you had to declare if you were for Rake or against him.”
“And you?”
“I straddled the fence and got kicked on both sides. It turned into class warfare. There had always been a very small group of people who were opposed to spending more money on football than on science and math combined. We traveled by chartered
“Rake was a great actor.”
“And everybody knew it. He’d been firedless than twenty-four hours earlier, so the funeral had the added drama of his departure. Quite a show, and nobody missed it.”
“Wish I’d been here.”
“Where were you?”
“Summer of ’92? Out West somewhere. Probably Vancouver.”
“The boosters tried to convene a massive meeting on Wednesday in the school gym. Reardon said, ‘Not on this campus.’ So they went to the VFW and had an Eddie Rake revival. Some of the hotheads threatened to cut off the money, boycott the games, picket Reardon’s office, even start a new school, where I guess they would worship Rake.”
“Was Rake there?”
“Oh no. He sent Rabbit. He was content to stay at home and work the phones. He truly believed that he could exert enough pressure to get his job back. But Reardon wasn’t budging. He went to the assistants and named Snake Thomas as the new head coach. Snake declined. Reardon fired him. Donnie Malone said no. Reardon fired him. Quick Upchurch said no. Reardon fired him.”
“I like this guy more and more.”
“Finally, the Griffin brothers said they would fill in until someone was found. They played for Rake in the late seventies—”
“I remember them. The pecan orchard.”
“That’s them. Great players, nice guys, and because Rake never changed anything they knew the system, the plays, most of the kids. Friday night rolled around, first game of the season. We were playing Porterville, and the boycott was on. Problem was, nobody wanted to miss the game. Rake’s folks, who were probably in the majority, couldn’t stay away because they wanted the team to get slaughtered. The real fans were there for the right reasons. The place was packed, as always, with complicated loyalties yelling in all directions. The players were pumped. They dedicated the game to Scotty, and won by four touchdowns. A wonderful night. Sad, because of Scotty, and sad because the Rake era was apparently over, but winning is everything.”
“This bench is hard,” Neely said, standing. “Let’s walk.”
“Meanwhile, Rake hired a lawyer. A suit was filed, things got ugly, Reardon held his ground,and the town, though deeply divided, still managed to come together every Friday night. The team played with more guts than I’ve ever seen. Years later, one kid I know said it was such a relief playing football for the sheer fun of it, and not playing out of fear.”
“How beautiful is that?”
“We never knew.”
“No, we didn’t.”
“They won the first eight games. Undefeated. Nothing but pride and guts. There was talk of a state title. There was talk of a new streak. There was talk of paying the Griffins a bunch of money to start a new dynasty. All that crap.”
“Then they lost?”
“Of course. It’s football. A bunch of kids start thinking they’re good, and they get their butts kicked.”
“Who did it?”
“Hermantown.”
“No, not Hermantown! That’s a basketball school.”
“Did it right here, in front of ten thousand. Worst game I ever saw. No pride, no guts, just show them the next press clipping. Forget astreak. Forget a state title. Fire the Griffins. Bring back Eddie Rake. Things were sort of okay when we were winning, but that one loss ripped this town apart for years. And when we lost the next week we failed to qualify for the playoffs. The Griffins quit immediately.”
“Smart boys.”
“Those of us who played for Rake were caught in the middle. Everyone asked, ‘Which side are you on?’ No fence straddling, bud, you had to declare if you were for Rake or against him.”
“And you?”
“I straddled the fence and got kicked on both sides. It turned into class warfare. There had always been a very small group of people who were opposed to spending more money on football than on science and math combined. We traveled by chartered
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