The Walk On (21 page)

“So I guessed right,” Christine said as she reached the table.

“You guessed wrong if you thought you were welcome here,” Stephen said in a tone he usually reserved for the locker room.

“Lighten up, Harvey. I’m not here to get anyone in trouble,” she answered. Alex figured Christine was about five four and weighed 110 pounds. Stephen Harvey was six three and a rock-hard 220 or so. Clearly, though, there was no back-down in Christine.

Alex guessed she had biked over because her long dark hair looked windblown—and yet still somehow perfect. Stephen’s tone bothered Alex, but he didn’t say anything. He understood why Stephen was upset.

“You’ve already gotten us in trouble,” Stephen said. “You got the whole team in trouble by getting Alex to talk Jonas and me into talking to your boy Garland. Can’t you just leave it alone?”

“He’s not ‘my boy,’ ” she said defensively. “He’s the sports editor, and all three of you know he hasn’t written a word that isn’t true.”

“That’s not the point, Christine,” Alex broke in. “Maybe it is from your point of view, but not from ours. We’re
on
the team—at least at the moment. We still have to answer to Coach Gordon every day.
You
don’t. Garland doesn’t. Coach Gordon’s actually right: we’re us and you’re them. The three of us and all the other guys and Coach Gordon are on the same team. You’re not.”

“We’re not supposed to be,” Christine said.

“That’s fine,” Alex said. “But right now we’re having a team-only lunch. And you aren’t on the team.”

The look on her face was tough for Alex to take because she was clearly hurt. Or angry. Or both.

“You know this isn’t going to go away,” she said. “All those other people bought Coach Gordon’s story that none
of you were going to talk to the media because everyone was so wet and tired from the game. We know better. We’re going to write about it this week. And we also know it was Matt’s idea, not his father’s, to change the offense at halftime. We’re going to write that too.”

“How did you find all that out?” Jonas said.

Her smile returned—if only for a moment. “I told you, Steve’s a good reporter. So is Kim Gagne. And, even though I’m not as experienced as they are, so am I.”

Alex knew that Kim Gagne was a senior, like Garland, and that he wrote the game stories each week.

“Well, good for you, then,” Stephen said. “But if you write that, Coach Gordon won’t be happy at all. And he’ll take it out on us.”

She shrugged. “That’s not really our problem, is it?” she said. “We’re not on the same team. Right, Alex?”

She turned and walked away.

Alex looked at his hamburger. Suddenly he wasn’t very hungry anymore.

Steve Garland’s story the following Wednesday was everything that Alex had feared it would be. Not only did it mention the gag order that Coach Gordon had imposed on the entire team, it also noted that he had taken credit for the change in the offense that had been suggested by his son.

Garland wrote:

Those words had to sting—regardless of whether they were true or not.

Garland’s story wasn’t the worst of it, though. Someone—maybe Garland?—had told Comcast SportsNet–Philadelphia and the
Philadelphia Daily News
about Coach Gordon taking credit for changing the game plan. On Wednesday, the entire school was buzzing about an interview Coach Gordon had done with Michael Barkann on Comcast about what Barkann called “the allegations.”

Alex, Stephen, and Jonas huddled over Stephen’s computer at lunchtime, watching the interview.

“Trust me, Michael, no one wants to give credit to Matt more than I do,” Coach Gordon said, lighting up the screen with a smile when Barkann asked him the question. “In fact, Matt and I had discussed the possibility of
starting
the game in an I-formation because of the conditions. Matt asked for a half to try to run our normal spread option and I thought that was the right way to go.

“I think he felt, since I had gone along with his wishes as the captain and the quarterback in the first half, that he should be the one to bring up making the switch—which he did—at halftime. I was very proud of him.”

Barkann followed up with the question that Alex would have asked.

“Last week, we’re told, your players were only allowed to talk to the media if a coach was present. You told me before we started this interview that none of your players are available to talk at all—including Matt. Why is that?”

Another big smile from Coach Gordon.

“Michael, as much as I like you and quite a few media members, my first and only job is to do what’s best for our football team. We’re starting league play this week against a
very good team—and that’s not coach-speak, they’re three and oh, just like we are—from King of Prussia High. Unfortunately, we’ve had one youngster on our school paper who doesn’t really understand the ethics of journalism—at least not yet. That’s created some issues for us to deal with and the last thing we need right now are issues off the field.”

Alex wondered if somewhere in there was an answer to Barkann’s question. Apparently, so did Barkann.

“I’m not sure I understand what a problem with the student newspaper has to do with keeping your players from talking to me or anyone else in the media,” he said.

One last smile from Coach Gordon. “Well, Michael, the good news for me is that you don’t need to understand. Thanks for coming out.”

Coach Gordon faded from the screen and was replaced by a shot of Barkann standing just outside the stadium in front of the sign that said
WELCOME TO THE LIONS
’
DEN
, which fans passed under as they entered.

“It’s tough to question Matthew Gordon based on his coaching record,” Barkann said. “And it’s almost a certainty that if we had talked to Matt Gordon Junior he would have backed up his father’s story. But there’s clearly something amiss inside what is a very good Chester Heights team when the coach is letting stories in the student newspaper affect his team. We’ve learned that offensive coordinator Tom Hillier, who is also the faculty supervisor of the student newspaper, abruptly resigned last week because of the dispute between Coach Gordon and the paper.

“From Chester Heights High School, I’m Michael Barkann.”

Harvey shut the computer and shook his head. “Boy, not good when Michael Barkann is questioning you. He’s like the nicest guy in Philadelphia.”

“What’s the
Daily News
story say?” Jonas asked. Stephen had a copy of the paper with him.

“Same thing only more direct: Questions about whether Coach took credit for Matt’s idea; gag order for the team; Coach Hillier resigning; Coach being paranoid. There’s a great line from Garland. He says he didn’t realize how many friends he had on the football team until all the players were ordered not to speak to him.”

“Oh boy,” Alex said. “I’ll bet that played well in the football offices.”

There was no talk of Steve Garland or gag orders or anyone in the media that afternoon at practice. King of Prussia
was
a good team—just watching tape of them was enough to make that clear—and there was a heightened sense of anticipation for this first in-league game. That’s what would decide whether they had a chance to play for the state championship.

“They’re fast,” Matt Gordon said to Alex and Jake as they warmed up. “Last year we beat them only because they had three fumbles. Otherwise, they beat us. I’ll have to be a lot better than I was last year if we’re going to win.”

Alex was dying to ask Matt about whether he and his dad had really had any discussion about the offense before the Main Line game. He knew that was a bad idea—in fact, it was unfair to Matt to ask. As Jake had said when Alex
brought it up, “You don’t ask anyone to say their father’s a liar—even if he might be.”

That was the closest Jake had ever come to saying anything that indicated he might doubt Coach Gordon.

Alex had never thought of his father as a liar, but he was hurt that he still hadn’t found time to make it to Philadelphia. On three different occasions his dad had said he was “hoping” to make it down for a weekend. All three times he had called back to say that something had come up.

At one point his dad had suggested that he and Molly come up for a weekend, but Alex had games every Friday and Molly had soccer games on Saturdays. They could maybe get there by train late on a Saturday, but it’d be about ten hours of train time for about six hours of visiting time. His mom had said they could go to Boston for Thanksgiving but not before then. If his dad really wanted to see his children, he’d have to make the effort.

“Dave, get real,” Alex heard her say on the phone one night. “It’s up to
you
to come see your kids; it’s not up to
them
to come see you.”

Alex didn’t question his father’s love for him, but as each week slipped past, he felt like he and Molly were slipping in his dad’s pecking order of priorities. He kept telling them they were number one—but he had a strange way of showing it.

There was another pep rally on Friday afternoon. It wasn’t much different from the first one, although Coach Gordon insisted that “
never
have we needed your support more than
we need it tonight. This is about
us versus them
! Remember that!”

Alex wondered exactly who
them
was. It appeared to be a lot of people
not
wearing opposing uniforms. Coach Gordon introduced him a little bit differently. “He’s proven he can take a hit—Chester Heights’ quarterback of the future … Alex Myers!”

Alex guessed that was an improvement. Jonas didn’t. “Does he think it was funny that he almost got you killed?” he whispered when Alex joined him onstage.

“I’m not sure he thinks anything is funny,” Alex answered.

“
That
you’ve got right,” Jonas said. He wasn’t smiling.