case. Rick’s mother has no money at all and—”
But Phil Collins was already holding up a hand. “Enough said,” he assured Jenkins. “I don’t think any of us wants a lawsuit—mind you, I don’t think the boy could win one, but I wouldn’t want to have to fight it. All any of us wants is what’s best for the boy. I’ll start things rolling tonight and keep you posted. And if there’s anything I can do personally, you just let me know. Okay?”
Jenkins hesitated a moment, then nodded, and standing, extended his hand. “I guess I owe you an apology,” he began.
But Collins brushed it aside. “Don’t even think about it,” he said. He flopped back into his chair, then shrugged. “In a way,” he went on, “I can’t say I disagree with you. Sometimes I think the game is getting too rough. And every year it seems like the boys are getting bigger and bigger. But what can we do about it? For a lot of the guys in this part of the country, football’s the only way they’re going to get to college, and they can only get there if they play for a winning team. So they keep trying harder. But you can bet,” he added, “that my team will see that film and get a talking- to about dropping when they know they’re hit. We shouldn’t have accidents like today’s.”
A few minutes later, when Jenkins had gone, Collins picked up the phone and dialed the number of the principal of Silverdale High. As briefly as possible, he recounted the conversation he’d had with Jenkins. When he was done,Malcolm Fraser, whose concerns about the dangers of football were well known to everyone in Silverdale, clucked fretfully.
“I don’t know,” he sighed. “Perhaps we’ve been putting too much emphasis on winning—”
Collins cut him off. “Winning is the whole point of the game, Malcolm. If we’re not out to win, there’s no point in playing at all. So we’ll just do what we can for Ramos, or whatever his name is, and forget the whole thing.”
“Unless they decide to sue,” Fraser replied.
“If they sue, they sue,” Collins said flatly. “And that won’t be our problem. That will be the lawyers’ problem.”
“I see,” Fraser replied after a long silence. Then: “And what about Jeff LaConner? What are you going to do about him? He’s playing awfully rough, isn’t he?”
Collins chuckled hollowly. “That he is,” he agreed. “And if he keeps it up, I can tell you what I’m going to do. Name him Most Valuable Player at the end of the season.”
He was still chuckling when he hung up.
Charlotte LaConner watched her husband open another beer and pass it over to Jeff, then pop the top on yet another can for himself. It was the third beer for Jeff, the fourth for Chuck, and finally she could contain herself no longer.
“What do you think Phil Collins would say about that?” she asked, nodding toward the Bud her son was emptying into his glass.
But Chuck only grinned at her. “Come on, honey,” he protested. “It’s a big night for Jeff! First game of the season, and a perfect pass on the last play! And it was Phil who told the boys to go out and have a good time.”
Charlotte took a deep breath, then let it out again. There was no point in arguing with Chuck, not after he’d had a couple of beers. And the fact that he knew as well as she did that the coach hadn’t intended to include drinking in hislifting of the training strictures that afternoon wouldn’t make any difference. But still, the whole thing bothered her.
The image of the injured boy lying motionless on the ground was still strong in her mind, and though Chuck had insisted she was wrong, she still felt that as Jeff’s mother, she should have gone to the hospital to see if the boy from Fairfield was all right. But Chuck had wanted to go out with the parents of some of the other boys on the team, and in the end, as always, she had gone along.
As always, Charlotte had sat in the group of celebrating parents, feeling