by Nick Eatman
Unfortunately for many of those media members, it wouldn’t be the last time—that month—they’d get caught in the middle of a Bryant rant.
Chapter 11
HELLO & GOODBYE
Friday
In high school football, especially in Texas, there is no such thing as coasting to the end of a season—at least not in the mind of a football coach.
For 355 days in each year, there are countless hours of preparation, meeting, strategizing, practicing, and training that all leads to ten Friday nights of action. And if they’re fortunate, some teams get to do it for a few more weeks in the playoffs.
But if nothing else, everyone is guaranteed ten games, and even if the postseason is not an option, a football coach will make sure his team doesn’t take its foot off the gas for any reason.
No, Plano wasn’t headed to the playoffs, but rest assured, its coaching staff spent just as much time, if not more, getting ready for its Week 10 showdown against Lewisville High School.
Sure, other teams might have been playing for a spot in the postseason, or perhaps even a district title. For those on the Plano staff, they were coaching for their jobs.
On the Saturday morning before the final week of the season, in their regular meeting held at the high school, Jaydon McCullough didn’t sugarcoat the situation. Maybe the head coach was going off a real conversation he had with Plano athletic officials at the district, or perhaps he was just sensing a vibe. There was even a possibility he was just trying to use a scare tactic on his coaches that he hoped might trickle down to the players.
In any sense, McCullough told his staff that the Wildcats needed to win their final game of the season.
Or else? Well, that’s the tricky part, especially with high school coaches who are considered teachers first. In fact, the high school level is actually somewhat opposite of the college and professional ranks, where the guys on the bottom of the totem pole are safer than the ones at the top.
At most high schools, including Plano, the head coach’s contract is tied in with the offensive and defensive coordinators. So if a school district decides to remove its head coach, the OC and DC can be out as well. But the other coaches have teaching jobs either at the school or nearby elementary and middle schools, making it more difficult to remove them.
However, with a new head coach, nothing would be guaranteed. Those on the staff might not lose their jobs as teachers, but could be reassigned as varsity coaches.
Needless to say, this next matchup against Lewisville was vital for the Wildcats coaches, not to mention the seniors, who had all week to prepare for their last high school game. And for all but maybe a handful, this would be the final football game of their lives.
While many of the seniors probably would’ve preferred their final game be held at John Clark Stadium in Plano, where they’d played the majority of their home outings over the years, running back Brandon Stephens didn’t seem to mind the game being played just down the road at Tom Kimbrough Stadium.
There are times when each of the three district schools—Plano East, Plano West, and Plano—must travel about fifteen miles north to Kimbrough, which is actually in Murphy, Texas. Stephens, though, saw the irony in the fact that unlike many of his fellow seniors, he actually suited up as a freshman in the 2012 season opener, which just so happened to be against Lewisville. Oh, and it was played at Kimbrough as well.
“For me to start and finish my career against the same team, and in the same stadium, was pretty neat,” Stephens said. “I remember I had some good runs in that first game.”
Stephens would have even more in his last one.
As the players rolled up to the stadium, the reality of playing their final game in a Wildcats uniform was starting to sink in. Quarterback Matt Keys admitted his senior year was a rollercoaster of emotions that went from him at first thinking he might land a football scholarship to eventually calling a loss to Plano West the worst night of his life. That defeat, coupled with concerns that his wrist could be broken, had him briefly wanting the season to be over.
But with his high school career coming closer to its end, Keys spent the bus ride to the stadium and part of the pregame warm-ups just trying to reflect on his entire journey—from playing on the freshman team to breaking his collarbone in a scrimmage just before his junior year to then this entire season, which had been an unpredictable ride of ups and downs along with the disappointing reality of missing the playoffs.
As game time approached, however, he set all that aside. Keys went around to just about every player he could find, whether they were seniors or maybe even a freshman who had just been moved up to varsity, and told them to make this last one count.
A senior tradition at Plano, and most high schools for that matter, is to introduce every player who is suiting up for his final home game. A few minutes before kickoff, the nearly thirty seniors lined up single-file in the south end zone with Chris Fisher standing nearby, waiting to greet them.
Fisher didn’t have the title of coordinator, but when it came to moments like this, he was certainly the right person for the job. The players had always related to “Coach Fish” as someone who not only had been in their shoes, having played high-level high school football and even a couple of seasons in college, but also as a rather hip, down-to-earth thirty-nine-year-old with probably more rap songs on his iPod than many of his students realized.
To each of the seniors, Fisher gave his own quick, personal message. For the defensive guys he coached, particularly defensive backs such as T.J. Lee, he might have held them a bit longer or tighter before a final pat on the back as they headed through the line of cheerleaders and drill team members, where Jaydon McCullough was waiting on the other end to give his own words.
Between Coach Fish and Coach McCullough, the seniors were given a final emotional send-off before going to battle one last time.
With the players lining up in numerical order, Stephens stood first, donning his 2 jersey, which he had switched to after wearing 33 during his freshman year. Stephens was met by Fisher, who gave him a strong hug with a couple of helmet slaps before telling him he was a great player and an even better young man.
Stephens went through the line and got to McCullough, who told him something he won’t ever forget.
“He just said, ‘I love you,’ ” Stephens recalled. “That meant a lot to me. He didn’t have a lot of time to say anything, but he said that, and I knew he really meant it.”
Stephens jogged toward the sideline where the underclassmen were waiting. Not far behind him was 28. Matt Keys shared a quick hug with Fisher, who had always admired the quarterback’s toughness and grit; but like Stephens, Keys mostly remembered meeting up with McCullough at the end of the line.
“It all worked out, didn’t it, Matt?”
“Yes, sir, Coach.”
But honestly, Keys didn’t know what he meant at first.
“At first I was like, ‘We’re 3–6, Coach. How did it work out?’ ” Keys said. “But now I know what he meant. He was talking about all of it. From when I was a skinny freshman to a sophomore killing it on JV and then moving up to varsity. I broke my collarbone in a scrimmage where the quarterbacks aren’t supposed to get hit and missed my junior year, and then came back this year and learned from the experiences. All the lessons I’ll take away from having to bounce back after a loss and sticking it out with the guys even though we were hurting, that’s really what Coach meant. I appreciate him for saying that.
“I really love Coach McCullough because he gets more out of seeing the men he coaches become something and watching them grow than he does watching them win. And if you’re going to coach high school, that’s the way it should be.”
Coaches aren’t supposed to have favorites, and if they do, they’re not supposed to admit it. But in 2015, Fisher had no problem revealing his true
feelings.
Darion Foster, wearing 35, was not only Fisher’s favorite player on this team, but was in reality his favorite player of any team he had ever coached.
As Darion made his way up to the front of the line, he knew it was going to be hard to see his uncle. For a moment, Fisher lost track of the numbers, trying to give each kid a proper and genuine send-off. As he gave a strong hug and backslap to 33, Thimayya Washington, Fisher turned back toward the line and stretched out his hand to grab the next guy.
The next guy was Darion. The baby-faced nephew who he affectionately called “numb-nuts” for years was no longer the skinny ball boy running on the sidelines. He wasn’t that late-blossoming teenager who had yet to grow into his body. As he stood before him, Fisher saw a man, one who grew up under his roof.
Fisher’s tongue came out in an attempt to keep from crying. He then grabbed Darion by the neck, put his face right by his ear, and gave him five seconds that his nephew won’t ever forget.
“This is your time. Show ’em what you can do tonight! Go out there and play your fucking heart out. I love you!”
Plano coaches don’t cuss on the football field. It’s more than just frowned upon. It’s simply not allowed, especially toward the kids. But there are always exceptions, and in this case, Fisher wasn’t talking to any player. At that point in time, he wasn’t talking to Darion Foster, the football player, or even his nephew. That was his son, the son that he and his wife, Janna, helped to raise.
Fisher held on to Darion a bit longer than the other players and actually walked a few yards with him before finally letting him go. With that, he turned back around, put his hand out, and greeted the next senior.
Yes, the emotions were running high. And not a single snap had been played.
Once the game began, the coaches were pleased to learn that their pregame scouting reports were indeed correct—their team was better. That statement couldn’t be made often in 2015, but against the Farmers of Lewisville, Plano had more skill and, frankly, just more passion and excitement.
The Wildcats pulled away in the fourth quarter, thanks in large part to Stephens, who looked every bit like the player headed to the Pac-12. Just as he did a week earlier against Flower Mound Marcus, the running back weaved through defenders, showing speed, power, and some open-field jukes as well.
With Plano leading 24–17 midway through the fourth quarter, Stephens took a handoff around the right side, found some daylight, and rushed thirty yards for a touchdown, not only putting the game out of reach, but also pushing him over the 200-yard plateau in his high school finale.
The score put a finishing bow on Stephens’ illustrious career, one that began with a long run out of the south end zone and concluded with a touchdown jaunt into the north end zone—with an entertaining four seasons of football in between.
When Stephens returned to the sideline, his quarterback had just one word for his fellow senior.
“Stud!” Keys shouted as he affectionately punched Stephens in the chest. “Stud!”
As the minutes trickled down to seconds, it was becoming obvious that the Wildcats were going to finish the year like they started—in the victory column. What happened throughout the course of the season seemed irrelevant in the final seconds. In fact, any focus on the past was replaced by perhaps a glimpse of the future.
Freshman tailback Kyron Cumby entered the game in the final minutes and dashed through the middle of Lewisville’s defense for a 31-yard touchdown run that sent the entire bench into a frenzy, as if the game were on the line. Cumby had been dazzling all year on Plano’s tenth grade squad, and it was only a matter of time before he got his chance to shine with the varsity.
With one run in the final game of the season, it felt like a true passing of the torch from Stephens to Cumby.
Not every player was on the sideline cheering, though. Keys didn’t wait until the end of the game to find his family. While he would’ve liked to take the last snap, he was fine with the backup getting a couple of reps. Plus, it gave Keys a chance to share an emotional hug with his parents, in particular, his mother.
With tears rolling down their cheeks, the moment was one of joy and a little relief. Keys had the picture of him hugging his mother on the sideline framed and gave it to her for Christmas some eight weeks later.
Just like McCullough told him before the game—it all worked out.
And not just for Keys, but the entire Wildcats team, which wrapped up the season on a triumphant note. At Plano, winning the final game is expected to mean winning the state title, something that had happened seven times in the school’s past.
But judging from the smiles, the hugs, the tears, and the pure joy that encompassed everyone that poured onto the field after the game, Plano celebrated like it was indeed a championship.
Obviously, this town knew the difference between being the best in the state and a 4–6 record. But 2015 was a journey, a topsy-turvy one that had its share of potholes as well as twists and turns. In the end, the Plano Wildcats survived and made it to the finish line.
“This is what high school football is all about,” McCullough said, as he hugged his wife and friends.
Doing interviews after the game is customary, but the head coach wasn’t real interested this time around. This was a moment for his staff, his players, and his community. He was soaking it all in.
As was Darion, whose mother, Heather, had made the trek down from Amarillo along with about twenty-five of his family members. With tears rolling down his cheeks, Darion stood there and took picture after picture with different family members who wanted to share in the moment. Some of the shots included Coach Fisher, who himself was in a blur, having a hard time realizing he wouldn’t be coaching his nephew anymore.
The two hugged again on the field, both telling how much they loved each other.
When the team finally made it to the locker room, McCullough thanked the players and the coaches for their efforts, not just in the game but throughout the entire year.
“I don’t care if the season is over or not,” he told them. “I couldn’t have been any prouder of a group of young men than I am of you guys. You never stopped fighting. You never quit. And that’s all we can ever ask from you.”
As Fisher walked toward the bus to head back to the school, he pulled out his phone, which now had about fifty more photos on it from the postgame celebration. But he went to Twitter to check in on other high schools, most notably his own alma mater. He knew coming into the game that Palo Duro High School in Amarillo was 0–9, but was ecstatic to see that his Dons had avoided the goose egg and picked up a victory, beating Hereford High School to finish 1–9.
A few tweets later, he also learned that Palo Duro head coach, Steve Parr, had told his players after the game that he would be retiring after thirteen seasons at the helm.
To Fisher, this wasn’t just any job, but the job he had always dreamed of having. When he decided to get into coaching just two years removed from his business degree, Fisher told his close friends that he aspired to become the head coach of Palo Duro High School one day.
Since then, the position had only been open once, and Fisher wasn’t even a varsity coach at the time. But now the job was about to become available again, and this time he knew he was prepared to go for it.
As he rode back to the school, Fisher was surrounded by players who knew they had just played their last game for Plano.
He could only wonder if he had coached his final one for the Wildcats as well.
Saturday
There are nineteen Greek fraternities on the campus at Baylor. Most of the football players just consider the team as their own frat, but some have joined outside groups.
Quarterback Seth Russell wasn’t officially in a fraternity, but lying in a hospital bed at the West Virginia Spine Center, the junior realized he
had a strong group of brothers surrounding him, watching over him and caring for him. And some of them didn’t even attend the school anymore.
Just days after undergoing successful surgery on his neck, Russell was more than a little surprised to see former Baylor quarterback Robert Griffin III, the 2011 Heisman Trophy winner and then-quarterback of the Redskins, pay him a visit during Washington’s bye week.
Russell enrolled at Baylor in the fall of 2012, the same time Griffin was beginning his rookie season in the NFL. While they were never teammates, Russell and Griffin had met on several occasions when the former All-American returned to Waco in the off-season for workouts or made sideline visits at Bears games when his schedule allowed.
More than anything, they both played quarterback at Baylor. Because of that, they would always be fraternity brothers.
“He was such a warrior through the entire process,” Griffin said. “He kept his faith the entire time. I’m just glad I could be there for him.”
Meanwhile, the Bears were in the process of initiating a new quarterback into the exclusive club as freshman Jarrett Stidham prepared for his first career start in what was expected to be the toughest test on Baylor’s schedule to date. After winning seven games by an average margin of thirty-six points per contest, the Bears now had to travel to usually hostile Kansas State, a place where in 2013, their last visit to Manhattan, Kansas, they’d won for the first time in school history. But even that game forced Baylor to rally in the fourth quarter for a 10-point victory, 35–25.
This Thursday night matchup, televised as the featured game on ESPN, called for some changes in the travel schedule, as it was one of the rare occasions during the school year when the football players had to miss class. In other sports, particularly basketball and baseball, Baylor student-athletes miss class regularly due to midweek games and long road trips to places such as Morgantown, West Virginia, and Ames, Iowa. But the flight to Manhattan was only a little more than an hour for the Bears, who left at 3 p.m. on Wednesday.