Chapter 42: Distraction Tactics

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Thomas and the coaching staff arrived two hours before kickoff.

They looked terrible.

Shirts wrinkled. Hair wrong. Faces bruised in several creative locations.

When Nolan asked what happened, Thomas mumbled through three false starts before pulling him aside.

"The bouncers started it," Thomas said miserably. "How was I supposed to know that club had so many rules?"

Only an hour earlier, the coaches had been released from a local holding cell.

So Thomas had ordered the players to stay in the hotel like monks, then taken the entire staff out to party.

Nolan folded his arms and stared at him.

Thomas swallowed.

"Next time," the coach said, "I take you with us."

The matter was temporarily settled.

Since the coaches were in no shape to give a heroic speech, the pregame locker-room address fell to Nolan.

"They are not harmless," Nolan told the team. "They are angry, and they want revenge. Are you scared?"

"No!"

"Crack them open!"

"Make them remember us!"

The answers came from everywhere.

Nolan stood with his back to the locker-room door and did not notice it opening behind him.

Thomas was at the entrance and started to speak, but the gray-haired man beside him lifted one hand.

Principal John Walsh had entered quietly.

The teammates in front of Nolan saw him. Several opened their mouths to warn Nolan, then stopped when John put a finger to his lips.

Nolan kept going.

"We are not just going to win. We are going to win so cleanly that no one has an excuse left. We are going to win until they choke on their own reputation. From now on, when they see us anywhere, any time, they should feel it in their stomachs. Today, we become their nightmare."

He stepped forward.

"Tell me you are ready."

"Ready," the team answered.

John nodded slowly.

He had spent his life in education. He had seen enough teenagers to know when one was performing and when one was leading. Nolan Callahan had a raw, unusual pull on a room.

Near the doorway, Grace could only see half of Nolan around her father.

Nolan was not satisfied.

"Louder. I cannot hear you."

He thought of John’s graduation speech, then added, "You sound like Principal Walsh on a bad microphone. What, do all of you have one foot in the grave too?"

Several faces tightened at once.

"What?" Nolan barked. "If you do not want to turn into old men before you graduate, bring me some life. Who are we?"

Behind him, John’s smile died a slow public death.

Thomas coughed.

Nolan finally sensed the change and glanced back.

"Principal Walsh," he said, instantly sweating inside. "Good to see you. How is your health? Taking care of yourself?"

"Very kind of you," John said flatly. "My health is fine. Do not mind me. Continue."

"Everyone welcome Principal Walsh," Nolan said, moving aside at once. "Applause."

John took the room and kept his remarks brief.

"I happened to be nearby and wanted to see you boys before the game. Do not feel pressure. Play hard, play smart, and represent the school well."

Nolan clapped louder than anyone.

When John left, Nolan and Thomas walked him to the door. Only then did Nolan notice Grace beside him. The cheer coach smiled and waved.

"Principal Walsh has a young heart," Nolan said after they were out of earshot. "Those two must be thirty years apart. Tragic."

Grace interested him. She had the upright carriage of someone who had once studied ballet, and time had not ruined the effect.

Thomas smacked the back of Nolan’s head.

"That is his daughter."

"Ah."

Nolan replayed his previous interactions with Grace and found nothing worse than refusing to join cheer.

Probably survivable.

...

After the entrance ceremony, the game began.

Nolan lost the coin toss again.

Burbank’s quarterback, number eleven, came onto the field. Before putting his helmet on, he shot Nolan a cold look.

Nolan turned his gaze toward the cheer line.

Claire was there.

With her brother watching, Nolan walked straight toward her.

Burbank’s cheer squad worked differently from BHHS’s. They stood in a clean line on blue boxes near the sideline, pom-poms flashing white and blue as they moved through their counts.

Claire saw Nolan coming from the corner of her eye. Her motion broke for half a beat before she recovered.

"I should apologize," Nolan said, stopping in front of her with grave sincerity. "How is your face?"

The lace mark on her cheek had faded but not disappeared.

On the field, her brother saw Nolan talking to her during Burbank’s second-down play.

That was enough.

The instant his focus slipped, a Norman defender shed the fullback, collided with him head-on, and ripped the ball loose.

"Normans ball!" the announcer shouted.

The strip turned into a defensive touchdown.

Mark’s extra point made it 7-0.

Distraction worked.

The siblings were close, and the brother had a temper. Rice had taught Nolan how useful that combination could be.

So when Burbank’s offense came back out, Nolan did not leave. He stood facing Claire with shameless patience and watched her as if sideline cheer were the main event.

Claire felt trapped in string. Her motions stiffened. The look behind his facemask made her want to jump down and punch him.

"Tired?" Nolan asked. "I can take your spot for a while."

"Your calf muscles are excellent."

"Could you repeat that last motion?"

Claire finally snapped.

"Please leave."

"What rule says I cannot watch the game from here?" Nolan put both hands on his hips.

"You-"

"You would not bully us just because we are the road team, would you?"

Several Burbank cheerleaders climbed down and closed around him. A few Normans from the offense drifted over too. Thomas sent an assistant coach to make noise on Nolan’s side.

The sideline became a little circus.

Burbank was already the weaker team. With their quarterback distracted and the sideline boiling, the offense fell apart: bad throws, stuffed runs, a running back flattened behind the line. Three plays did not add up to ten yards.

On fourth down, Burbank tried a trick punt.

The fake throw never connected.

The Normans took over.

Nolan put on his helmet.

"Now," he said, "we show them actual technique."

The offense followed him onto the field.

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