“Jack Mass talked to several realtors who handle that area and shared what we planned to do. They told him that an estate like Cindy and the team propose would be easy to sell. Some of the numbers that were suggested would make you a handsome profit if you decided to flip it instead of move in.
“I told them I wanted this to be designed to be your forever home, so not to hold back,” she said.
“I’m good, then. Are you okay with continuing with all the details?” I asked.
Her face broke out into a huge smile.
“I’ve had a lot of fun doing this. Cindy hasn’t been shy about asking for help with ideas from Jack Mass and Abigail Wesleyan. Now, that woman has exquisite taste. I think Jack has decided that she’ll help design and decorate his model homes.”
◊◊◊
Tonight was our awards banquet. Brook would meet me there since her parents and grandmother were coming to see her get her cheerleading letter. Everyone planned to wear their letterman’s jackets and football jerseys. It was a stark difference from what had happened my freshman year when hardly anyone even owned a jacket.
We’d changed the culture over the last four years to where players were proud to represent our high school. It was a long-held tradition to wear your school’s letter as a high school athlete. It singled you out as someone worthy of receiving the award for contributing to your team. Tonight, Ed, Wolf, and I would each receive our fourth letter for football as we’d all played varsity ball even in our freshman year.
The banquet was being held at my dad’s country club. The Booster Club was putting it on again this year, so it was free for the athletes and their families. I’d made enough donations that Mrs. Sullivan said I could bring a few extras. Besides my parents, my brother and his wife were coming. Also attending were my aunts, uncles, cousins, grandmothers, and baby mamas and their parents. I’d also invited Peggy and her parents to come. Okay, maybe more than a few extras.
Jeff was given free rein to cover the event with his camera crew. I was happy that they would be out of our hair after the game tomorrow. The documentary had shined a light on Lincoln athletics. I’d heard through the grapevine that several athletes’ families might move to our district so they could play ball here. There weren’t many places that had the coaching and facilities Lincoln had. If someone’s son had aspirations toward playing college ball, we had the best opportunity for them to achieve that. Our goal had been to leave a lasting legacy. With the upcoming seniors and the influx of talent, I was sure Coach Hope would have another successful year next year.
It turned out to be a fun night. They kept the presentations to a minimum, and I spent the evening going around and talking to everyone. I had a good time talking to my guys’ parents and clueing them in that their boys really were okay. I think parents think the worst of us sometimes. Then the music started, I found my girlfriend, and we danced.
I did dance with other women … like my mom, grandmas, and Brook’s mom. Finally, Brook asserted herself and told her grandmother that she would have to wait for their New Year’s party to dance with me. Knowing how to actually do old-school dances, instead of just shaking my booty, made me popular with the geriatric crowd.
Then, at the end of the night—ten o’clock, because we had a game tomorrow—I was asked to come up on stage. Coach Hope and Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan joined me.
“We didn’t want to leave tonight without recognizing David and what he’s meant to Lincoln High football the last four years. David, we have something for you,” Mrs. Sullivan said.
There was an easel with what looked like an oversized picture frame under an orange sheet. She pulled it away and uncovered a shadow-box frame that had a picture of me taken at our away game in St. Louis. I was on the sideline, looking out onto the field with my helmet clutched in my hand. It looked like I was about to enter the game. Around the picture was a list of all my awards and the records I’d set at Lincoln, for the school, conference, state, and nationally.
“This will be hung in the Field House next to the trophy case,” Mr. Sullivan told everyone.
“We’ve also decided to retire David’s number 11. We’ll place his State Championship jersey in a similar frame to be displayed,” Coach Hope said.
I looked at them and was at a loss for words … for all of five seconds. Then I grabbed the microphone and turned to the audience.
“Some of you have heard me say that individual awards and recognition were silly in a sport like football. For me to be successful, I need my teammates to be there for me. I must say that each and every one of you has worked your butt off to make it possible for these things to have happened.
