Date: September 3, 1989.
Event: Sunday Service.
Location: Medford First Baptist Church.
If Friday night football was a physical battle, Sunday morning church was a psychological one.
And today, the Cooper family was walking into a minefield.
"Does my hair look alright?" Mary asked, checking the rearview mirror for the tenth time. She looked like she was preparing for a court appearance, not a sermon.
"You look fine, Mary," George Sr. grumbled from the driver's seat. He was tugging at his collar. "Can we just get this over with? I can feel Stevens staring at me from three miles away."
"He is the Head Deacon, George," Mary stressed. "And Brenda Stevens runs the hospitality committee. If she decides to freeze us out, we won't get a good table at the potluck for a year."
I sat in the back between Sheldon and Missy. I was wearing a tie, which I hated, but Meemaw said I had to look "presentable" since I was now the Face of the Franchise.
"I don't understand the anxiety," Sheldon piped up, adjusting his own bow tie. "If the Stevens family is angry about a sporting event, that is an irrational emotional response. The data clearly shows Georgie had a higher completion percentage than Kyle."
"Shut it, Sheldon," George and I said in unison.
"Ooh," Missy whispered, leaning toward me. "Is there gonna be a fight? I hope Mrs. Stevens throws a Bible at Mom."
"Nobody is throwing anything," I said, though I wasn't so sure.
***
The Arrival
We pulled into the parking lot. It was packed.
As we walked toward the church steps, the air felt heavy. Usually, people would wave at Mary or stop to talk about the weather. Today, they nodded quickly and looked away.
The town was divided. Half were happy we won. The other half—the wealthy, Booster half—felt that George had betrayed the hierarchy by benching Kyle Stevens.
"Keep walking," George muttered. "Head up."
We reached the top of the stairs. And there they were.
The Stevens Family.
Mr. Stevens was wearing a sharp navy suit, looking like he owned the place (which, financially speaking, he kind of did). Mrs. Stevens was next to him, wearing a hat that looked like a weaponized flower arrangement.
And there was Kyle. The backup quarterback. He looked miserable. He was staring at his shoes.
"Good morning, Brenda!" Mary said, putting on her brightest, most weaponized smile. "Lovely hat."
The silence lasted two seconds too long.
Mrs. Stevens looked Mary up and down. She didn't smile.
"Mary," she said coolly. "We were surprised to see you. I assumed George would be too... busy celebrating to come to the Lord's house."
George's jaw tightened. "We're here every Sunday, Brenda."
Mr. Stevens stepped forward. He didn't look at Dad. He looked at me.
"Congratulations on the win, son," Mr. Stevens said. His voice was flat. "Although, I noticed you audibled out of the coach's play on that touchdown. Risky behavior for a freshman."
It was a trap. If I agreed, I insulted my Dad. If I disagreed, I insulted the Booster.
"Just doing what I was taught, sir," I said smoothly. "Kyle helped me with the reads in film study. He's got a great eye for defense."
I saw Kyle's head snap up. He looked surprised.
Mr. Stevens blinked. He hadn't expected me to compliment his son.
"Is that so?" Mr. Stevens grunted.
"Come along, Kyle," Mrs. Stevens snapped, grabbing her son's arm. "We need to set up the coffee."
They walked away.
Mary let out a shaky breath. "Well. That went better than I expected."
"She didn't invite me to the bible study on Tuesday," Mary whispered, horrified. "I've been going to that study for six years."
"You're out, Mare," George said, guiding her inside. "You've been purged."
***
The Sermon
Pastor Jeff stood at the pulpit. He looked nervous. He kept glancing between the Cooper family (Fourth Row, Left) and the Stevens family (Third Row, Right).
"Today's sermon," Pastor Jeff squeaked, "is about... forgiveness. And humility. And how we should all get along, regardless of... worldly competitions."
Meemaw leaned over to me. She smelled like peppermint and cigarettes.
"Five bucks says he sweats through his robe before the offering," she whispered.
"No bet," I whispered back.
"And remember," Pastor Jeff continued, sweating profusely, "Cain and Abel were brothers. Just because one was favored... doesn't mean the other wasn't loved."
"He is literally talking about football," Sheldon whispered loudly. "This is highly inappropriate exegesis."
"Shhh!" Mary hissed.
I looked over at Kyle Stevens. He was slouching in the pew. He wasn't angry. He just looked defeated. His dad was whispering something in his ear—probably a critique of his posture.
I felt a twinge of guilt. I was a 40-year-old man in a kid's body, stealing this kid's spotlight. But then I remembered the bruising on my ribs and the hours I spent flipping tractor tires in the mud.
I earned it. But that didn't mean I had to be a jerk about it.
***
The Bake Sale Cold War
After the service came the real battlefield: The Potluck.
Mary had made her famous casserole. Usually, it was placed front and center on the main table.
Today, I watched Mrs. Stevens take Mary's casserole and slide it to the far end of the table, behind a stack of napkins and a large bowl of potato salad.
"Did you see that?" Mary gasped. "She hid my casserole! That is an act of war."
"Let it go, Mary," George said, holding a plate of brisket. "The brisket is dry, by the way. Just like Stevens' personality."
I saw Kyle standing alone by the punch bowl. The other high school kids were avoiding him because he was the "benched" guy now.
I handed my plate to Sheldon.
"Hold this," I said.
"Why? Are you going to engage in physical combat?" Sheldon asked, looking interested.
"No. Diplomacy."
I walked over to Kyle.
"Hey, Stevens," I said.
Kyle flinched. He looked ready for me to gloat. "Hey, Cooper. Good game."
"Thanks," I said. I grabbed a cup of punch. "Listen, that tip you gave me about the Tyler linebackers shifting? You were right. I saw it on the second drive. Saved my butt."
Kyle blinked. "I... I didn't give you a tip."
"Sure you did," I lied, loud enough for the people nearby to hear. "In the locker room. You said 'Watch the weak side backer.' Good call."
Kyle stared at me. He realized what I was doing. I was giving him credit. I was letting him save face.
He straightened up a little. "Oh. Yeah. I mean... I saw it on tape. Thought you should know."
"We're gonna need that against Highland Park," I said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Keep watching the film for me, alright?"
"Yeah," Kyle said, a small smile forming. "Yeah, I got you."
I walked back to my family.
Mr. Stevens was watching from across the room. He looked confused. He couldn't hate me if I was treating his son like a partner.
Mary looked at me. She had seen the whole thing.
"That was nice of you, Georgie," she said softly.
"He's a teammate, Mom," I said, taking my plate back from Sheldon. "Besides, if I make him feel important, his dad might stop trying to fire Dad."
"Politics," George Sr. muttered, taking a bite of a roll. "My son is better