"It's fifty years today," he said, trying to control the trembling in his voice."I remember like it was yesterday. There were no mourners, because you wanted it that way. Just me and the priest and the pallbearers from the funeral company. You remember? It was an Autumn day like this. The breeze was coming off the lake, and there was a tang to it, a smell of cedar. I thought this would be a good spot for you, with the lake so near. I remember the stories you told about summers with your family, how you sailed boats on a lake like this."Southern California wasn't like this. Too dry, always too dry and hot. You used to say that's why the people got so many wrinkles, from going out in that harsh sunshine."Remember? I'd drive you around in that old Packard limousine with the shades drawn. You always wore sunglasses and a big hat to protect your skin. It worked, too -- you had the skin of a woman half your age."He had a pile of weeds and dead flowers now, and he pulled a plastic bag from. E. office to start counting."Okay you gorillas, listen up," Parker said loudly. A lot of coaches could call their players gorillas, or apes, or ladies and build esprit-de-corps; Parker just made it sound condescending."I've worked you hard and it shows." Of course. Without Parker, none of us would have thought of working hard."Monday, school starts and we'll have a seven A.M. practice for running drills and conditioning, then an after-school practice in full pads." Two-a-days. How did he ever come up with a concept like that?"A week from today is our first game at Richland. If you keep working hard and listening to me, to your coaches, they haven't got a prayer." I thought you couldn't pray in school anyway."After Coach Vickers finishes counting the votes, you can hit the field." I know I was inspired."I've finished," Vickers said, coming out of the office, holding a clipboard. "In a landslide, your two-thousand-and-five team captains are..." he paused for dramatic effect, "Robbie.
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