He sits by himself in a corner of the dressing room, hunched forward on a metal chair, the same kind you’d see at a Methodist picnic. He tugs at his ears and fiddles with his glasses. He’s already taken his hat off, so he puts it on again, then sets it down, smooths his white hair and rubs his forehead with both hands.
He stands up. He has to. He shifts his weight, touches his chin and fingers the gold whistle around his neck.
Then John McKissick, the coach with 565 wins, more than anyone else in football at any level, calls out to his Summerville team, the 75 or so players dressed in kelly green and gold.
He walks between the bunch, seated on a wooden bench and rows of metal chairs, and lectures them about Gaffney, their opening-round playoff opponent.
He tells ’em the truth: This is the only game that matters.