Heaven and Hell (Heaven and Hell #1)(169)

After it was over, Sam’s agent released a photo of us to the paper. Then Sam released his agent. He didn’t need him anymore. Sam had made his decision. He no longer had a public life. No more guest appearances on sports shows. No more anything. He had other things to occupy his time.

And he was loving it.

And because my husband was loving it, I loved it more.

Even before Sam and I got back from England, as ever, when Sam made a decision, Sam didn’t mess around. He called the president of the School Board in Kingston and told him he was interested in coaching the Wildcats. As I guessed, they were all over it. When Sam and I got back, Sam dove in. The old head coach stayed involved for half the season and then (gratefully, seriously, Sam was not wrong, he was all about fishing) bowed out.

This caused a furor not only in Kingston but nationwide. America adored the idea of Sampson Cooper moving from being a national hero to being a high school football coach. They thought it was awesome. They thought it was cool. They thought it showed exactly the kind of man he was, no network television, no big man stunts, it wasn’t about keeping his celebrity; it was about doing whatever the hell he wanted to do. It was pure Sam.

They were right.

However, this meant there was intense scrutiny on the Wildcats once they entered the season.

They lost their first four games, the first two of these they lost soundly and Sam and the boys took those hits very publicly, very widely and, surprisingly, viciously.

I was terrified. The sniggering tone of the commentary was not at all to my liking, as it wouldn’t be. I worried for Sam and I also worried about his boys who were not used to that kind of attention.

Sam didn’t react at all. He was focused. And he managed to keep his boys focused.

After that, they didn’t lose a single game. Not one. And in the end, they kicked ass.

It. Was. Awesome!

Unfortunately the early losses meant they didn’t see post-season play.

I had a feeling they would this year.

Incidentally, watching Sam coach and his boys play, I learned to love football.

But only the high school kind.

At the end of the football season, the School Board approached Sam with the offer to be the school’s Athletic Director. The old coach held that position too and they had yet to fill it.

Sam took it. It meant more time, more money (not that that mattered) and it was something he enjoyed.

Therefore, we were at the school all the time.

Yes, we.

Sam did his gig alone with his boys at practice but I came to all of his games. I also went with Sam to all the other sporting events at the school. Girls volleyball, track, girls and boys basketball, baseball, softball, wrestling. We even went to away games, matches and meets. Sam was serious about the job, was hands on and he paid attention.

I’d never been into sports but high school athletics was something else. It was about heart. It was about team and school spirit. It was totally amazing.

So I became queen of Kingston athletics to Sam’s king. In other words, the Booster Club approached me to become their chair, I took it on and I was all about bake sales, setting up carnivals and planning all-you-can eat spaghetti dinners. The kids needed equipment, decent uniforms, stuff like that, and there was never enough money. So a bunch of parents and I went about raising money.

I found I had a knack for it but not only that; it was all kinds of fun.

This wasn’t to say I didn’t investigate the idea of opening a shop in Kingston. I looked into this. I even went out to California for a week with Luci and hung with Maris at her ultra-awesome shop in Malibu.

And I didn’t like it much.

It just was not for me.

Luci loved it.

So she opened a shop in Kingston.

Obviously, considering her fashion connections and good taste, it was a hit. And I helped her out, working part-time which mostly meant hanging out with Luci, gossiping, giggling, trying on (and, often, taking home) gorgeous clothes and sometimes waiting on customers or tidying racks and shelves. But mostly I spent my time cleaning the house, grocery shopping, cooking when Sam wasn’t in the mood (my man did most of the cooking, what could I say? – he liked it and he was good at it), taking my dog for walks, going to sporting events with Sam and arranging fund-raisers so the kids in the sports program could have kickass shit.

I was particularly pleased with the volleyball outfits the girls would have this year. They were top of the line, the brand Olympians wore. They cost a blooming fortune but the carnival made a killing. And they were worth every penny. Freaking phenomenal. The girls were in fits of glee.

See? Told you I had a knack for it.

Sam had also taken on another project, something he shared with me in bed one night not long after we got home from England. It was something he shared with me he’d been kicking around for years, even before he quit playing pro ball.

He wanted to do a summer football camp for underprivileged boys like the boys he’d grown up with, like the boy he used to be. A minimal number of slots, the boys had to apply but they wouldn’t pay, not even for travel. Three weeks of training and not just in football. It would be a kind of football boot camp. Part sports training, part military training. It wasn’t just going to be about physical fitness and learning to play the game. It was about dedication, loyalty, team, honor, reaching inside and finding that part of you that you could latch onto to pull yourself out of the circumstances life thrust you in and find something better.