Shannon Reed’s voice quickens in cadence with each second that counts down on the south end zone scoreboard. She’s never been prone to pregame jitters, not when she played collegiate basketball or in two decades coaching high school athletes. But tonight, she’s nervous.
She lets out a sharp exhale and paces along the sidelines as the clock ticks under five minutes. When it hits 0:00, the Austin Crockett High School football team will play for a share of the District 12-5A DII title. Yes, the same Crockett Cougars with one playoff win in the program’s 50-year history, but who at 6–3 have secured their first winning season since 2008 and can wedge themselves into a three-way tie for first with a win tonight.
And no one gives them a snowball’s chance in hell to do so.
Crockett’s five-game win streak constitutes a miracle season. Their opponent, Austin LBJ, is a machine. Coming off a 15–1 season, the Jaguars are on a five-game winning streak of their own. The average score in those games was 81-3. They are 35-point favorites against the Cougars.
But that’s not why Reed is nervous. The Crockett program hasn’t listened to the outside noise all season. No one ever expected the Cougars to play in a regular season finale that had playoff implications, much like no one ever expected her to become the only Black female assistant varsity coach in Austin ISD.
She wants a win for these boys, her boys, who started to believe in themselves because coaches like Reed believed in them. Demoni Sutherland, the senior linebacker and captain, hoists an American flag as he leads the team sprinting out of the tunnel. There was Cameron Dickey, who in his first season as the starting quarterback had passed for 1,200 yards and ran for over 1,800 yards with a staggering 28 touchdowns. Jamari Wilson, the dynamic receiver who averaged 26 yards per reception, runs by his side.
The Cougars are a mass of black jerseys as dark as the November sky. In that moment, they own the field.
Until purple smoke wafts into the air.
LBJ saunters down the field with the swagger of a team that won last week’s game 96-0, and the week before that 82-0. At the coin toss, the Jaguars’ captains tower over Crockett’s.
Reed, Crockett’s wide receivers coach, stands on the sidelines trying to get a glimpse of the cornerbacks she’s game planned against when a small voice interrupts her. Her eight-year-old daughter is stationed at the bottom of the stands, hands pressed up against the chain link railing that she’s not quite tall enough to see over. Reed immediately walks over, taking off her stern coaching hat and switching over to mom mode.
“I think it’s neat for my daughter to watch Mommy doing this,” Reed said. “She’s my princess. She’ll run around in her little dress with her helmet on and her high heels. So she’s all over the place.”
Her daughter doesn’t know the significance of this game, but that doesn’t matter. Reed is an example, a pioneer, but not a token. She is a football coach.
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