Last Chance Hero (23 page)

“What are they?”

“Football pictures. See that tiny little speck there? That's me.”

Jess looked closer. “How do you know?”

“I just do. I recognize the play formation, and if you look real
close, you can see my number, 14.” He turned another page and shook his head. “I don't know why Mom even kept these. They're terrible.” He flipped a few more pages and stopped. The uniforms had changed and the pictures looked like they had been taken inside a much larger stadium. “This is the University of Arizona. See, that's me there.”

Andy scowled a little and turned page after page without saying a word. The snapshots of college football games gave way to clippings and articles. “Andy Ryan drafted by the Denver Broncos,” “Andy Ryan throws winning touchdown pass late in the fourth quarter,” and on the last page, looking as if it had been torn from a magazine, “Glory Days 2.0? Former Denver Bronco Andy Ryan returns to Last Chance, New Mexico, to coach his own once-renowned high school football team.”

Andy bent his head over the battered scrapbook, and as the first tears he'd shed in thirteen years dropped on the pages, he felt Jess's hand steal across his back and gently hold his shoulder.

T
hey're ready for you, Coach.” At Andy's distracted nod, Kev turned to go, but he hesitated in the doorway. “I was sorry to hear about your dad. I didn't even know he was in town.”

“Not too many people did, Kev. He wasn't here long, and he was pretty sick when he got here.”

“You know, it would have been okay if you had taken some time off. Everyone would have understood, and I could have handled practice just fine.”

“I have no doubt that you could. And if I had needed some time off, I would have turned the team over to you without a second thought, but I think what I needed most was to be here. I'd have gone nuts if I'd stayed home.” Andy got up and slapped Kev on the shoulder. “Let's go. I have some things I want to say to the team before they head out to the field.”

They crossed the short hall to the locker room where the team, in practice uniforms, sprawled on benches, did stretches on the floor, and leaned against the lockers as they waited.

“Guys, I have just a few things I want to go over with you. First of all, you may have noticed a whole lot of commotion about homecoming next week. You can't walk five feet without running into posters and banners and ticket sales booths and tables where
you can order your mums. Anyone in here nominated for homecoming king?”

Zach Ellis and a couple others raised their hands.

“Why didn't I guess?” Andy shook his head while laughter rippled through the locker room. “Well, good luck to all of you, but what I want to drill into your heads is that all that extra stuff stays out there. The only event of the entire weekend, the
only
event—and that goes for everything from the pep rally, to the bonfire, to the dance—that concerns us takes place at 1:30 Saturday afternoon. And what's that?”

“The game,” a few disjointed voices called out.

“The what?”

“The game!” Everyone spoke in unison this time.

“The
what
?”

“THE GAME!” The answer came in a roar.

“And don't you forget it either. Nothing matters but how you play that game. Not the fans, not the homecoming court, not even your girl sitting up there in the stands thinking what a hero you are. Got it?” Andy waited.

“GOT IT!”

“All right, and if that's not enough for you to play the best game you've ever played, you should know that a scout from the University of Arizona will be at the game.”

There was silence for a few seconds, then, “Seriously, Coach?”

“Yes, I'm serious. I knew him when I went to U of A, and I let him know that I thought we had a lot of talent here in Last Chance. The timing of our one Saturday game works for us because he has some players he's checking out in Las Cruces Friday night. He'll stop by here on his way back to Tucson. Okay, that's homecoming, but before we get there, we have a game to play this Friday, and it's going to be a tough one; we can't let up a second. So hit the
field—we have a lot of work to do, and the sun goes down earlier every day. Hustle!”

As the team ran out onto the field and Andy and Kev brought up the rear, Kev jerked his chin toward Gabe. “I see Quintana suited up.”

“Yep. His doctor gave him the all clear. I don't think we'll play him much Friday, though. No need to rush things.”

“I've got to admit I was wrong about him last summer when practice started. He just seemed too small and way too busy with other stuff to make much of a difference. Do you remember him skating into practice at the very last second and then sticking his little brothers and sisters up in the stands so he could watch 'em and take practice at the same time? And then he was always the first one gone after practice so he could get to his job. That's crazy.”

Andy watched Gabe a minute. “Yeah, crazy pretty much describes everything he was trying to do, all right.”

“So, do you think he has a shot at U of A? He has so much going for him. There's no one who can outrun him, and he slides through the defense like a hot knife through butter. But some of those guys weigh more'n twice what he does, and it will only get worse once he hits college. He could be out of commission for good the first game.”

“If he plays like he's played all year, and I have no doubt that he will, they can't help but notice him, but I think a football scholarship is a long shot for the very reasons you mention. I'm not sure that's what he's looking for, anyway.”

“Hey, Coach.” Zach Ellis broke away from practice and trotted over. “Could I talk to you? Maybe later after practice?”

“Sure. I'll be in my office.” Zach trotted off again, and Andy turned to his assistant. “Take over, would you? Let them go about an hour; split the time between offense-defense drills and conditioning drills. I have to take care of some things inside.”

As Andy headed back to the athletic building, he heard Kev's whistle and “Listen up!” Kev knew what he was doing. He'd make a good head coach one day.

He tried hard to concentrate on the pile of papers and files on his desk, but his mind kept drifting away. Finally he gave up and, pushing them aside, leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. Who knew that his dad, who he hadn't given ten minutes thought to for who knows how long, could get such a massive grip on his life just by moving in for a week or two, trying to show Andy that he loved him, and then dying on his living room floor? Andy's mom had cried when he called her, mostly for those good years that they couldn't hang on to, and even Aunt Barb's voice was gentle and sad as she said she prayed Tim finally had peace. What was left of the life Andy's dad had lived? An old pickup that Andy would probably give to Manny Baca over at Otero Gas and Oil for parts and a few clothes that had seen their day long before Tim Ryan wore them back into Last Chance. And of course there was the scrapbook.

The scrapbook. All those years when, as far as Andy knew, his dad had forgotten he even had a family, Tim Ryan had followed him from Last Chance to Tucson to Denver, carefully documenting a career he could only watch from a distance.

Andy squeezed his eyes shut tight for a minute until the burning stopped.
Dang, Dad.
You could have let me know. Just one time. Maybe
things could have been different.

He opened his eyes and blew out a gusty sigh as he leaned forward and grabbed his roster and a highlighter pen
. Or not, but
we'll never know now, will we, Dad?

The names on the roster could have been written in Chinese for all the sense they made, and Andy pushed the document away again. “I've got to get out of here.”

Glancing at the school clock that hung on the wall of his office, Andy pulled his phone out of his pocket. Only briefly did his finger hover over Jess's number. She had been so warm and concerned last night while he cried like a baby, and she'd stayed with him long past midnight until he was ready to be alone, but that was just Jess being the only doctor she knew how to be.
Face it, Ryan, you
burned that bridge when you decided that you and football
were a package deal. Move on.

He dialed another number. “Ray? Hi, it's Andy. Hey, I know it's last minute, but do you think you could go grab a burger or something with me? I just need to get away for a while.”

“Hey, Andy. You've been on my mind all day.” Ray sounded pleased to hear from him. “I was just going to call to see how you're doing. You want to come over here? Gran always has enough to feed the county.”

“Um, well . . .” Andy's voice trailed away. “Another time, maybe? I'm not real good company right now. That's why I called you.”

“Got it.” Ray's voice was warm with compassion. “Sure. I'd love to go for a burger with you. I'll just tell Lainie and Gran. But you know when I tell Gran you said ‘another time,' she's going to set a date, right? Like tomorrow?”

Andy felt the first smile since yesterday touch his face. Yeah, that sounded like Ray's gran, all right. “Tomorrow I should be able to manage that. Thank her for me.”

“Great. So I'll see you, when? Would you be ready in an hour if I came by to pick you up?”

“An hour would do it. I'm still at school.”

Andy hung up and leaned back in his chair. Ray was the only one, other than his mom, who knew all there was to know about the volatile years with his dad. Andy could talk or not, and it would be okay with Ray.

“Coach?” Zach Ellis stood in his doorway. “Do you have a minute?”

“Sure, come on in. Have a seat.” Andy shoved his papers together and stacked them on one side of his desk; they were going to have to wait. He couldn't get them to make sense, anyway. “What's up?”

“Do you mind if I close the door?”

“Suit yourself.”

Andy watched Zach close the door and come take the chair in front of his desk. “Got a secret?”

“No, it's not that.” Zach cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. “I wanted to ask you about this scout who's coming next Saturday. Do you know him?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Dave Williams and I played together at U of A. After graduation, he stayed on and went to work for the football program. He's been scouting for them for at least five years and really knows his stuff. Why? What do you want to know?”

“Seriously, Coach, do you think I have a shot? Seriously?”

“You know, if you had asked me that question when you first came out for football last summer, I would have said about as much as a snowball in a furnace. I could tell you'd been a big shot last year and you thought you had it all coming to you on a silver platter. If I could have figured out a way to send you packing, I'd have done it.”

Zach ducked his head. “Yeah, I was a real jerk. Everyone in town was all crazy because Andy Ryan was coming back. It was all anyone could talk about, including my dad. I think I was trying to show that I didn't need to be impressed; I was good too. I see how stupid that was now. Thanks for not kicking my tail out of here.”

“Well, something happened, Zach. I'm not sure what you did, but it sure worked. I wouldn't have wasted a phone call on that kid I met last summer, but I want Dave Williams to watch you play. If you go all out and give us the game I've seen you play, I know he'll be impressed.”

“Thanks. I'll sure give it everything I've got.” Zach looked at the floor a moment before looking back at Andy. “There's one thing, though. Could you not let my dad know?”

“Why wouldn't you want your dad to know? He's your biggest fan.”

“That's just it. He'd get so nervous, he'd drive me crazy too. Then he'd hunt down Dave Williams like a dog at the game and try to sit with him and all to make sure he didn't miss anything. Ol' Dave'd probably leave before halftime just to get away from him.”

“Think you're being a little hard on him? After all, he is your dad. He wants everything for you.” Andy folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. He hadn't found his encounters with Rob Ellis particularly to his liking either, but he was Zach's dad, and he deserved better than he was getting. “Here's the thing. I can promise that I won't tell your dad that a scout from U of A is going to be here for the homecoming game, but don't forget, I just told the whole team, and they might well tell
their
dads. So it's not a secret, and he'd probably rather hear it from you than anyone else.”

Zach sighed. “Yeah, you're right. Well, thanks again, Coach. It's really awesome what you did.”

“You're welcome, Zach.” Andy got to his feet. “Just keep doing what you've been doing, and you'll be fine. Oh, and I do have one more piece of advice. Until ol' Dave invites you to do otherwise, I'd call him Mr. Williams.”

“Marta, come in and have a seat.” Jess sat down behind her desk and kicked off her shoes. “How do you rate your first day?”