"When I could walk again, I found that going to class took too much effort. I went to college to play football, and when that was suddenly over I lost interest in studying. After a couple of semesters, I dropped out and drifted for a few years, trying to forget about Messina and Eddie Rake and all the broken dreams. Football was a dirty word. I allowed the bitterness to fester and grow, and I was determined never to come back. With time, I tried my best to forget about Eddie Rake.
"A couple of months ago I heard that he was very ill and probably would not survive. Fourteen years had passed since I last set foot on this field, the night Coach Rake retired my number. Like all the former players here today, I felt the irresistible call to come home.And to come back to this field where we once owned the world. Regardless of my feelings about Coach Rake, I knew I had to be here when he died. I had to say farewell. And I had to finally, and sincerely, accept his apology. I should have done it earlier."
The last few words were strained. He gripped the podium and paused as he looked at Paul and Silo, both nodding, both saying "Get on with it."
"Once you've played for Eddie Rake, you carry him with you forever. You hear his voice, you see his face, you long for his smile of approval,you remember his tongue-lashings and lectures. With each success in life, you want Rake to know about it. You want to say, 'Hey Coach, look at what I've done.' And you want to thank him for teaching you that success is not an accident. And with each failure, you want to apologize because he did not teach us to fail. He refused to accept failure. You want his advice on how to overcome it.
"At times you get tired of carrying Coach Rake around. You want to be able to screw up and not hear him bark. You want to slide and maybe cut a corner without hearing his whistle. Then the voice will tell you to pick yourself up, to set a goal, work harder than everybody else, stick to the basics, execute perfectly, be confident, be brave, and never, never quit. The voice is never far away.
"We will leave here today without the physical presence of our Coach. But his spirit will live in the hearts and minds and souls of all the young boys he touched, all the kids who became men under Eddie Rake. His spirit will move us and motivate us and comfort us for the rest of our lives, I guess. Fifteen years later, I think about Coach Rake more than ever.
"There is a question I've asked myself a thousand times, and I know that every player has struggled with it too. The question is, 'Do I love Eddie Rake, or do I hate him?' "
The voice began to crack and fade. Neely closed his eyes, bit his tongue, and tried to summon the strength to finish. Then he wiped his face and said, slowly, "I've answered the question differently every day since the first time he blew his whistle and barked at me. Coach Rake was not easy to love, and while you're playing here you really don't like him. But after you leave, after you venture away from this place, after you've been kicked around afew times, faced some adversity, some failure, been knocked down by life, you soon realize how important Coach Rake is and was. You always hear his voice, urging you to pick yourself up, to dobetter, and never quit. You miss that voice. Once you're away from Coach Rake, you miss him so much."
He was straining now. Either sit down or embarrass yourself. He glanced at Silo, who clenched a fist as if to say, "Finish it, and fast."
"I've loved five people in my life," he said, looking up bravely at the crowd. His voice was fading, so he gritted his teeth and pushed on."My parents, a certain girl who's here today, my ex-wife, and Eddie Rake."
He struggled for a long, painful pause,then said, "I'll sit down now."
* * *
When Father McCabe finished the benediction and dismissed the crowd, there was little movement. The town was not ready to say good-bye to its Coach. As the players stood and gathered around Miss Lila and the family, the town watched from the stands.
The choir sang a soft spiritual, and a few folks began drifting toward the front gate.