At the very same moment that Maggie’s business card was slipped into Lin Wansheng’s pocket,
a “postgame review” was also quietly taking place.
Just a few steps from the school stood Champion Barbecue, the unofficial exclusive territory of East River High’s football players.
The restaurant’s owner was a burly middle-aged man named “Big Mike.”
He was also an East River High alumnus, once the unshakable starting defensive tackle on the legendary team from the nineties that had won a state championship ring.
At that moment, the large booth tucked deepest inside the restaurant was occupied by Danny and the others.
“Another pitcher!!!” Danny shouted toward the owner behind the bar.
Big Mike glanced at Danny’s face, which was obviously still shy of the legal drinking age, and merely grinned.
Without the slightest concern, he filled a big pitcher of ice-cold beer from the tap and carried it over.
“Take it easy, kid. Don’t go puking at Bob’s practice again tomorrow.”
“I really don’t get what Coach is thinking,” a burly offensive lineman complained, knocking back a huge mouthful of Coke.
“We’re the offense, goddammit. Making us scrimmage against another offense? What kind of bullshit tactic is that? Is he trying to humiliate us?”
“He’s making an example of someone,” said another backup wide receiver.
He glanced at Danny, who was sitting silently in the corner. “Danny, you really had rotten luck today.”
“Don’t fucking bring it up.” Danny chugged a large mouthful of beer, his eyes filled with resentment.
……
……
At the home of East River High’s head coach, Bob Martinez, it was another scene entirely.
In the living room, the huge television screen was playing footage of last year’s state champion, Hudson High, in their season opener.
Bob’s wife, Tina, completely ignored the commotion on the TV.
Wearing comfortable loungewear, she held an iPad and leaned in front of her husband, her tone brisk.
“Honey, come look! I found the perfect house. It has separate walk-in closets for the husband and wife! This one really suits us!”
On the television screen, it just so happened to reach an extremely brutal moment.
Hudson High’s wide receiver had just caught the ball when he was struck by the opposing safety.
His whole body flew out like a kite with its string cut.
Sunk deep into the La-Z-Boy sofa, Bob never took his eyes off the television.
He did not even look at the photos on his wife’s iPad. His mind was full of only one thought: “If I remember right, that kid ended up with a shattered collarbone and a severe concussion.”
“Out for the entire season right away. No idea if he’s recovered by now.”
“Emmmm, we have to strengthen training on self-protection during impacts. Teach those boys how to absorb force with the correct posture.”
“Mm.” He answered absentmindedly.
Tina was long used to her husband’s reaction. She continued swiping through the photos on the screen, her enthusiasm undiminished.
“We really should change houses, dear. The school promised us back then that once you became head coach, they’d get us a four-bedroom with its own yard.”
“Last year, you said you’d just taken the job and the team didn’t play well, so you were too embarrassed to bring it up with the board.”
“This year, no matter what, we have to move!”
Bob was still staring fixedly at the screen, calculating silently in his heart.
“Hudson’s star quarterback graduated this year, but that backup of theirs didn’t play a single minute last year. There’s no film on him at all.”
“No idea what kind of player he is.”
Just then, Anna, his eldest daughter, who had been sitting quietly on the long sofa on the other side reading a book, suddenly lifted her head from the pages.
She said to her father, “I think Moby-Dick is the perfect metaphor for our high school’s season this year.”
Hearing his eldest daughter’s voice, Bob finally managed to tear his gaze away from the footage.
A little weary, he turned his head and looked at this daughter who was always immersed in her own literary world.
Anna looked at her old man and continued, “The cold, dark ocean represents the long and unknown season, full of shadows and uncertainty.”
“And that mysterious white whale is our Holy Grail—the state championship.”
“As for that ship and those whalers, they’re your team.”
She paused, then finally asked, “Don’t you think so, Dad?”
“Then who am I? Captain Ahab?” Bob asked.
“Of course,” Anna said in an utterly certain tone. “The coach is the captain.
Always so stubborn, obsessed with chasing something that may never be caught.”
“What do you mean, something that can never be caught!” Bob’s competitive spirit was roused by his daughter’s words. He sat up straight from the sofa and waved his arm.
“The state championship will absolutely be mine this year!”
Anna lowered her head and muttered in a voice only she could hear, “And last year, you didn’t even make the playoffs.”
Bob did not hear his daughter’s jab, but he knew very well what situation he was in now.
This was his second year as head coach.
They had lost last year, and the board could call that a period of adjustment.
But if they lost again this year, forget continuing as head coach—he might not even be able to stay at the school.
After all, on paper, his team’s strength was terrifying.
Their quarterback, Mark, had a completion rate as high as 68%. Especially at critical moments on third-down conversions, that number could even soar to 75%.
That arm was practically born for pressure.
And their running back, Avery, was a human tank. Last season, after contact, he could still push forward an average of four yards.
In any short-yardage offense that required brute force, he was almost unstoppable.
Those two boys were not only among the very best players in New York City—even across the entire state of New York, they were geniuses who could rank in the top three.
As for the other, more technical running back, Brian, although he was small, he was like a sharp surgical scalpel.
Last season, as long as the team entered the opponent’s red zone, inside the twenty-yard line, he had more than a 70% chance of completing a touchdown. That efficiency was frighteningly high.
And yet even so, last year the team still never so much as touched the threshold of the playoffs.
What did that mean?
It meant that in everyone’s eyes, there was nothing wrong with the players.
The problem lay with him, the head coach, and his tactics and leadership.
At that thought, his chest tightened.
He turned his head, looked at his wife’s expectant eyes, and made a decision.
“After Friday, once we finish the first game, we’ll go look at houses.”
In his heart, he thought that after this battle,
one way or another, they would have to go look at houses.
If they won, they would go see that big house with the separate walk-in closets and throw a grand party to celebrate.
If they lost, then it would be time to pack up their things and find a new place to live.