COACH

Sam Beason, class of 1988, sauntered into his old locker room. Not much has changed in fifteen years, he thought. He was back in Danville for the funeral of his Mom's only sibling, Jean Grogan.

Sam had moved at age two. Her returned his junior year, after cancer claimed his Mother, to live with Aunt Jean. Two years later, Sam departed Danville, a football hero. Now the owner of the Chicago Bears, he felt he owed it all to the man he was about to see.

Butch Patrick was still coaching the Tigers; sitting at his wooden desk, head slightly bent, glasses perched atop his nose, intently studying his playbook.

"Hey Coach." Sam said, opening the door. "If I'm disturbing something, I'll stop back later."

Coach lifted his head and smiled, "How much later? I've got a football team to piece together and I get nothing but interruptions!" He rose and grabbed Sam's hand. "Come in! The best damn quarterback in Danville history! Great to see you, son!"

"Thanks Coach, same here, do you mind?" said Sam, pointing to the chair.

"Please, sit!" Coach responded, returning to his desk. "Sorry about Jean, how's it going?"

"Day to day," smiled Sam.

"Sam, I'll get right to the point as to why I called to see you," Coach said, looking down at his desk.

Sam curiously leaned forward, "Go on."

"Well," said Coach. "Remember when you first asked if I had known your Father?"

"Sure, you said he was like a brother to you," Sam responded.

Coach paused, his eyes began to fill with tears. "Son, I lied. I'm your Dad."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, and I'm your nanny."

"No son, not a joke, I'm dead serious."

"My Dad died in Nam, that's why we moved from Danville in the first place, what are you talking about?"

Coach took a deep breath, this wouldn't be easy. "Your Mother made me swear never to tell you. She thought it better if I stayed away. We were so young and I did some stupid things. Anyway, before she died, she called me. Said that you would be coming to live with Jean. She asked that the secret remain for as long as possible."

Sam stood up. "This is crazy, but if it's true, why are you telling me now?"

"Purely selfish reasons. I've had a son for thirty-three years that I've had to watch from a distance. It drove me nuts. Now the two most important people in your life have passed, and I wanted you to know the truth."

"Jesus," Sam muttered. For some time, he sat silent, recalling times on and off the field; the warmth, the laughter, those words of encouragement. Strangely, he'd always known this to be true. "My Father," he repeated. This explained his Mom's vague answers when questioned about his Dad, and the apprehensive look on his Aunt Jean's face whenever he & Coach were together. Then there was that bond, that unique feeling of kinship.

Sam leaned forward, "So where do we go from here?"

Coach smiled, "Let's start with lunch."