Page 41 of Love Me Not
“Go for it.”
Thankfully, the guys came back up as Trey was forced to return his attention to the job he was here to do and not on annoying me and giving the gossipers more to talk about. Which made me wonder. Did he know about these rumors?
Or worse, did he have something to do with them? Surely not. But what if…
The next thing I knew, the ball was in the air and the teams were colliding again. The boys managed to keep the lead through the third and most of the fourth quarter, until Bishop Masscio finally got on the board. After that, they did something Megan called an on-side kick and within two minutes, the other team scored again.
The atmosphere in the stadium took a nose dive when our quarterback threw an interception almost as soon as we had the ball back. Poor Griffin. He was never going to forgive himself. Despite the crowd doing everything in the last two minutes to loudly will them to victory, Carnegie High lost the game ten to seven.
I couldn’t help but feel bad for them. Even Trey. I wasn’t completely heartless, after all. But they still had a season to be proud of. A few of the boys were visibly crying on their way to the locker room, and even I had to brush away a tear. As much as sports seemed utterly meaningless to me, it meant a lot to these kids, and seeing them lose after such a hard battle broke my heart.
“I can’t believe they lost,” Megan muttered as we gathered up the blankets and our empty cups. “And so close to the end like that.”
“A heartbreaking loss,” Jacob said. “Griffin is going to have a rough week.”
“He’s such a sweet kid.” I grabbed the empty popcorn box. “No one can be perfect all the time.”
“That was in the clutch, though,” Ryan said. “He’ll be thinking about that throw when he’s forty.”
“I doubt it.”
He turned my way with a serious expression. “Senior year. Ninth inning with two outs. We were down by one with a runner on second, and I struck out to end the game. I still have nightmares about that last pitch.”
Turning to Megan, I said, “Is he exaggerating?”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
The crowd was subdued as we all made our way to the parking lots. After every home game, the boosters sold burgers and fries in the school cafeteria as a fundraiser, and anyone who wanted to drop by could eat and celebrate the team. I had to assume those cafeteria tables would be empty tonight.
“We’ll see you at the school,” Jacob said, as we veered in different directions to our cars. Josie and Miles had ridden with him and Becca, while Donna and I tagged along with Megan and Ryan.
I saw no reason to go back to the school since the last thing these boys needed was to face a cafeteria full of disappointed faces.
“Do we have to go?” I asked.
My fellow teacher spun so fast Josie nearly ran into him. “Of course, we have to go. Those boys need our support.”
“They need to be able to shower and go home. What are people going to do? Pat them on the back and tell them better luck next time?”
“For some of them there won’t be a next time,” Ryan pointed out.
“Exactly,” I thought. Why make them feel worse?
“Wouldn’t not going be meaner?” Donna asked. “As if we only support them when they win?”
Maybe it was just me, but I’d rather wallow in defeat alone than walk the gauntlet of a full cafeteria. Still, she had a point. “I’m just a passenger. If yinz want to go, then we’ll go.”
Subject settled, we made the drive in silence, at least in Ryan’s car. I stared out the window, feeling sadder than expected. The boys really wanted that win, and I wanted it for them. Normally, I’d say it’s just a meaningless game. But not this time.
And then I found myself wondering how Trey felt. He’d taken them so far. Turned around the whole program, really. Was he taking it badly? Did he feel responsible? Was he second-guessing the decisions he made?
Hopefully not.
We found ourselves six seats together in the packed cafeteria, forcing the guys to take turns between sitting and standing. The atmosphere was somber, as expected, yet louder than I liked. A buzz went through the room that the boys were back and cleaning up in the locker room.
After opting out on a burger, I sat quietly, picking up on various conversations going on around us. A lot of armchair coaching was in the air, as if these parents and grandparents could have done a better job. What total bull. Trey’s coaching didn’t lose them the game.
Granted, I knew little about the sport, or the screen this and roll out that the guy next to me kept droning on about, but there was no way Trey led this team to seven straight wins only to be blamed for the one loss.