“I said it’ll jeopardize his chances to get a scholarship. He insisted it wouldn’t, that as long as Alex tested clean the next three years, colleges would overlook it because he was so talented. He pointed out that a lot of kids with serious criminal records get scholarships because they’re good.”
“That’s true, actually,” Matt said.
Jake nodded. “I still said no. Then he told me that he would guarantee that he would get a coach at either a D1 school or at least a Patriot League school to scholarship me in a year. The Patriot League thing got my attention. I know I’m not good enough to play at a big-time school, but a place like Lehigh or Lafayette? I could have a chance at those places.”
“Do they give scholarships?” Jonas asked.
“Yes,” Matt said. “You have to be a good student too, unlike at a lot of the big-time schools, but the scholarships are the same.”
Jake continued. “Coach said, ‘Jake, do this for me and you’ll be my son when it comes to a scholarship.’ I asked how I could trust him to follow through on his promise. He just said, ‘If I don’t, you’ll go public with the story, and my career is over.’
“I told him I’d think about it.”
He was looking at Alex now. “There’s no excuse for what I did—none. All I can tell you is I did it because I really need a scholarship if I’m going to go to college. And Coach was guaranteeing it.”
“But why Alex?” Christine asked. “If Coach Gordon was just trying to save Matt, why not switch vials with someone who doesn’t play? Why bring Alex down when he may have been needed in the playoffs?”
“I think I can answer that one,” Matt said. “My dad wanted Goldie gone. He knew that by next year everyone would be saying he should start instead of me. He figured if Goldie tested positive, he’d have to transfer someplace because of the public humiliation.”
He paused and looked Jake in the eye. “And with Goldie gone, you’d have gotten to play more next year too—right, Jakey? It wasn’t all about my dad wanting to get rid of Alex. You didn’t mind the idea either.”
Jake looked at Alex. “God, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve been sorry since the day they nailed you with this. Matt’s right. I thought I was going to play this year. I’d even thought about not playing next year and coming back a fifth year to be the starter when Matt graduated. Once you showed up, that was out the window.”
“And so you walked into the training room and just switched the labels on the vials,” Matt said. “I’m off the hook, Alex is a dead man walking, and you get a scholarship and the chance maybe to start in two years.”
Jake nodded. “It was easy. I just told Buddy I’d left my watch behind. He didn’t care if I went back in there—why should he? I just switched the two labels. Took about five minutes because I was nervous and I was being very careful.”
A teacher Alex didn’t recognize walked in and did a double take when she saw the group sitting around the table. “You’re all late for fifth period!” she said. “What do you think you’re doing! Get going!”
They were about to stand up when the door opened again and Mr. Hillier walked in.
“It’s okay, Ms. Cohen,” he said. “I called this meeting. The kids all have permission to be here.”
“Oh,” she said, clearly startled. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“No problem,” he said, smiling.
“I can give you all late slips,” he said after she left. “But are you close to a resolution? You can fill me in on details later, but tell me what happens next.”
Again they all looked at one another. It was Matt who finally spoke.
“Well, now that I know what happened, it seems pretty clear,” he said. “I’m going to tell Mr. White that I was doping and that my father arranged to get the samples switched. I’d rather not tell him about Jake.…”
“But, Matt, I’m guilty.…”
“I know you, Jake. And I know my dad. He’s … persuasive. I believe you do feel guilty for what you did,” Matt said, “and even if we don’t make it public, I expect the team will figure it out—and that you’ll pay a pretty steep price. I think that’s enough—unless you disagree, Alex.”
Alex thought about how the team was likely to react. “No, I agree,” he said.
“Christine, are you willing to keep Jake’s name out of print?” Matt asked.
They looked at one another. “Can’t use his name if no one goes on the record,” Christine finally said. “I’m guessing no one here’s going to go on the record with that part of the story?”
Jake was shaking his head. “I don’t deserve this,” he said.
“Shut up, Jakey. You’ll suffer plenty—I guarantee it,” Matt said, now clearly in charge again.
“After I tell Mr. White what happened, I’m going to tell the whole school at the pep rally,” Matt said. “I don’t want there to be any doubt that Goldie was completely innocent. I’ll take my lumps and try to move on.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Alex said.
“I’d rather do that. I’d rather everyone hears it from me firsthand than people hear about it secondhand. What is it you told me, Christine, back when my dad wasn’t letting anyone talk? ‘It’s always better to get your version on the record.’ ”
“You know that once you tell Mr. White, he’s going to have to fire your dad,” Mr. Hillier said.
Matt was clear-eyed now. “I know,” he said. “He deserves it.”
By the time the pep rally began, the word was all over the school. Something big was going on, but no one knew exactly what it was. The rally was supposed to start at two-thirty, as soon as seventh period was over, but it was almost quarter to three before Mr. White—looking grim—walked onto the stage.
There were no announcements—nothing about how to buy tickets for the bus ride to Pittsburgh and for the game. There was no cheerleading, no promises of victory on Friday. Instead, Mr. White said simply, “Ladies and gentlemen of Chester Heights, I have an announcement. At two o’clock this afternoon, I accepted the resignation of football coach Matthew Gordon. I would now like to introduce to you our acting football coach, Tom Hillier.”
That sent a loud buzz through the entire audience as Coach Hillier walked onstage. He waited a second, then said, “The sooner we get quiet, the sooner you’ll know what’s going on.”
That worked. Coach Hillier continued, “Will all of you please welcome the members of the Chester Heights football team that will be representing you this Friday night in Pittsburgh in the state championship game.”
There were no exclamation points in his tone. The side door opened and, one by one, the players walked in. Quietly they lined up behind Coach Hillier. The applause was—if possible—confused. No one knew what to do: Clap? Roar? Stand and cheer? Clearly, something was going on.
Once the players were all assembled, standing shoulder to shoulder behind Coach Hillier, he leaned into the microphone again.
“And now, Matt Gordon has requested to speak to his fellow students.”
The applause for him was louder, because he was Matt Gordon and because they were thinking he was going to clear up all the confusion. He walked to the microphone and gestured for quiet.
“What I’m about to tell you is exactly what I told my teammates a few minutes ago. The most important thing you need to know is that Alex Myers did not test positive for steroid use—I did.”
Gasps broke out all over the room. Matt plowed on. He told everyone what he had told Alex, Christine, Jonas, and Jake in the lunchroom. He made a point of saying that there wasn’t a single excuse for his behavior—or for his father’s. He didn’t mention Jake, saying only that his father had “arranged” for the samples to be switched. Finally he turned to Alex and said, “I’m so sorry for this, Alex. No one will be cheering you on louder than I will on Friday night. You’re a great quarterback and a better person. I’m proud to call you a friend.”
He turned and walked in Alex’s direction. Alex stepped
forward and Matt wrapped him in a bear hug, tears streaming down his face.
Someone in the audience started to clap as they embraced. Then someone else. And then, in an instant, everyone in the room was on their feet, clapping and cheering for the two quarterbacks. The rest of the team joined in.
Finally Matt walked back to the podium, his arm still around Alex.
“I hope, someday, I can earn your forgiveness for this,” he said. “For now, I plan to be in the stands on Friday, leading the cheers for Goldie and this great team.”
He turned to the back of the stage and put his arm up in the air. The entire team moved in to surround him and Alex. “On three—state champs,” Matt said.
They put their hands in the air and leaned into the circle, pushing against one another to get as close as they possibly could.
Gerry Detwiler said, “One, two, three …”
And the whole school roared, “STATE CHAMPS!”
The next few hours were a blur for Alex.
Once the pep rally was over, the team headed straight for the locker room to get ready for practice. While Buddy Thomas was taping Alex’s ankles, Coach Hillier—back in his coaching gear—asked him to come into his office for a moment.
When Alex walked into the small office, Coach Hillier was in there along with Gerry Detwiler and Mr. White.
“Mr. Myers, I haven’t had a chance to see you yet,” Mr. White said, shaking Alex’s hand. “I’m glad you were cleared. I’m sorry for doubting you. And I’m very sorry this happened.”
“There was no way for you to know, Mr. White,” Alex said.
Coach Hillier jumped in before an extended silence could turn awkward.
“Alex, we’ve been discussing how to handle the publicity. Obviously, what’s happened is all over social media. We think we should hold some kind of press conference after practice, with you and Gerry speaking for the players, me speaking as the acting coach, and Mr. White speaking on behalf of the school.”
Alex nodded, looking at Gerry, who he guessed had been briefed already.
“Okay?” Alex said, as they seemed to want an answer.
“The thing is, we all have to be careful about what we say about Coach Gordon,” Mr. White said. “He’s apparently refusing all media requests and isn’t going to admit any wrongdoing publicly.…”
“He covered up for his son,” Detwiler said. “Matt’s already said it publicly.”
“Still,” Mr. White said, “if you are asked about the things Matt said about his father at the pep rally, just say the person to talk to about that is Matt. We’ve asked Matt to steer clear of any media until after the game. Then he can say anything he wants.”
Alex nodded. “Got it,” he said.
“Anything else?” Mr. White said.
“Yeah,” Detwiler said. “Any way we can play this game tomorrow instead? This is going to be a long three days.”
The press conference was a zoo. The soap opera nature of the story had attracted national attention, and Alex saw cameras from both CNN and ESPN in the audience along with all the local ones. Reporters were asked to identify themselves before asking questions. One stood up and said he was from the Washington Post. Another was from the New York Times. Alex recognized the teen reporter Stevie Thomas sitting next to Christine in the third row.
Alex and Gerry let Coach Hillier and Mr. White take any questions about Coach Gordon. Gerry nicely described how the team felt, Alex thought.
“We miss Matt already,” he said. “I’m the captain for now, but he’s our leader. He’s the guy we look to for a pickup when we’re down. But once we get on the field, we all have faith in Alex. Every time we’ve needed him this season, he’s come through. I have no doubt he’ll do it again Friday.”
A little shudder went through Alex as Gerry spoke. He had started two games earlier in the season, but they had been against second-tier opponents. Now he would be starting the state championship game against another undefeated team.
And Matt would be in the stands. He wouldn’t even have his counsel on the sideline. Jake would be his backup. Coach Hillier had agreed Jake should stay on the team—at least through Friday’s game. At that moment a reporter stood up and asked Alex how he felt about being the quarterback under these circumstances.
“How do I feel? I’m beyond happy to have been proven innocent,” Alex said. “This last week has been brutal. I hope the guys who did the telecast of the semifinal game will announce my innocence as loudly as they did my supposed guilt.…
“But worse than that was feeling cut off from my team. There’s no place I’d rather be than on the field with them on any Friday night. So I feel excited to have the chance to play.
“And I also feel … sad. Because I’ll miss Matt Gordon.”
Alex had a long talk on the phone with his father on Wednesday and felt better than he had in months. Dave Myers not only said that he’d be at the game on Friday night but also that he was going to get to Philadelphia much more often.
“Those are empty words until it actually happens,” he told Alex. “But I’m going to make them real.”
He told Alex how proud he was of the way he’d handled himself and asked him if he ever thought he could look Jake Bilney in the eye again.
“Matt, I can understand,” his dad said. “He didn’t set out to sabotage you. Bilney did.”
Alex sighed. He’d thought about that a lot since Tuesday.
“I hear you, Dad,” he said. “But I think Coach Gordon knew just what button to press to get him to cooperate. And I honestly believe he’s sorry he did it. Sometimes guys are sorry they got caught. I really think Jake is sorry for what he did.”
“Well, you’re a lot more forgiving than I am,” his dad said.
Alex smiled for a moment even though his father couldn’t see him. “I guess,” he said, “that’s a good thing for you too, Dad.”
“Touché, young man,” his father said. “I’ll see you Friday in Pittsburgh.”
Thanksgiving was going to be an early dinner with just Alex and his mom and Molly, because Alex had to be at school at 5:00 p.m. to get on a bus to Pittsburgh. The team would stay in a hotel Thursday night so they would be rested for the game on Friday.
His mom and Molly were both in the kitchen and Alex was just about to turn on the Lions–Packers game when the doorbell rang.
On the doorstep, all grinning broadly, stood Matt, Jonas, and Christine.
“What the …?”
“Alex, who’s there?” he heard his mom call.
“Friends,” Alex said, realizing the three of them were just that.
He waved them in. His mom was as surprised as he was to see them.
Matt explained, “It’s a Thanksgiving tradition in my family to play touch football before we eat. But to be honest, I’m not all that fired up about playing football with my dad right now.”
“Oh, yes, I can see that,” Alex’s mom said.
Matt shrugged. “I’m having dinner at Jonas’s house because his mom and dad invited me. Anyway, the three of us thought we’d come over and see if Alex wanted to play a little touch, start a new tradition with his new friends in Philly. Nothing too intense. We have to make sure he and Jonas are ready for tomorrow.”
Alex’s mom looked at him. “Think you can handle that, Alex?” she said.
“I’ll grab a ball from the garage and meet you guys outside,” he said.
As he walked to the garage, it occurred to him that for the first time since they had arrived in Philadelphia, he felt truly at home.
They played for about an hour and then went inside for hot chocolate. Christine left first because she had relatives coming over. Matt and Jonas lingered a bit longer, watching the game.
“Hey, Goldie, there are two things I have to tell you before you leave for Pittsburgh, since I won’t be allowed to be around the team before the game,” Matt said.
Alex turned to Matt. “Okay,” he said. “What’ve you got?”
“
The second most important thing is this: just be yourself tomorrow and you’ll be fine. You’ve got a bunch of good receivers and”—he looked at Jonas—“one great one. You can make all the throws, and you know how to deal with pressure. I’ve seen you do it.”
Alex nodded. “Thanks. I wish you could be there on the sideline.…”
“I do too, Goldie. I do too.”
“What’s the most important thing?”
Matt grinned.
“You’re taking Christine to the holiday dance on Saturday, right?”
“Yeah,” Alex said. “How’d you know?”
“Because I asked her—too late.”
Jonas was smiling now too.
“So here’s the deal. You guys win tomorrow night, and I’ll be a good boy and settle for Hope Alexander this weekend and in the future. But if you lose …”
“What?” Alex said.
“I won’t coach you up on how to be a good boyfriend,” Matt said. “You’re on your own. And trust me, you need coaching.”
Matt and Jonas dissolved in laughter. And pretty soon Alex did too.
Even though they all slept late on Friday, the day crawled by.
Alex and Jonas were rooming together, and they killed time watching football games on TV for a while and then went for a walk around downtown. It was too cold to go very far, so they went back inside quickly. At three o’clock they all ate a pregame meal together in one of the hotel’s ballrooms. Everyone was quiet, thinking about what lay ahead that evening. Finally, at five o’clock, they got on the buses for the short ride to the stadium. It was dark and Alex could see the stadium lights from the bridge. He took a deep breath as the bus followed the police escort motorcycles into the parking lot and pulled into the tunnel underneath the stadium.
He wished he could just relax and enjoy the experience. But his stomach was tied in knots.
They had gotten lucky with the weather. It was cold—the forecast had been for thirty-three degrees at kickoff—but there was no snow and the wind was brisk but not biting. They all suited up, trying to make this pregame feel like any other.
The Walk On Page 27