James Sheehan - The Law of Second Chances

“What do you suggest?” he asked Bobby Schmidt, his quarterback. They both knew there was only one call-a long pass into the end zone. Standing behind the coach, Johnny looked over at Rico, who was about ten feet away. Rico didn’t say a word. He knew exactly what Johnny was thinking. Before the quarterback could respond, Johnny broke in. He hadn’t said ten words to Joe Sheffield all year, but now, at the most important moment of the most important game of the season, he was interrupting the coach and his quarterback .

“Coach, we can do it.”

“Do what?” Joe asked, agitated by the interruption .

“Kick a field goal. Doug can help Rico block the middle linebacker and Jimmy can kick it through.” Doug Kline was the left guard .

It was an absurd suggestion. They hadn’t made an extra point all year and hadn’t even attempted a field goal. Joe Sheffield looked out on the field and saw the Navajo defensive backs positioned well back near the end zone. A long pass was almost futile. He looked at Bobby Schmidt, who shrugged his shoulders. “It’s as good a shot as any, Coach,” he said .

“Doug, are you sure you can get that middle linebacker?” Joe asked .

“Don’t worry, Coach. He’s mine,” Doug replied .

Still Joe Sheffield hesitated. “Aw, what the hell. Let’s give it a shot. Jimmy, get in there and kick that ball through the uprights.”

Johnny, Rico, and Jimmy raced onto the field with the rest of the offensive team and huddled up. “Just like we did in practice,” Rico calmly told them. They broke the huddle and lined up .

“Hike!” Johnny shouted. Rico hiked the ball. As he did, the middle linebacker headed straight toward him. Off to the left, Doug Kline went airborne. As the linebacker reached Rico, Doug blindsided him .

Rico’s hike was a perfect spiral. Johnny caught the ball and set it in one fluid motion. As he put the ball on the ground, Jimmy Walsh took a step forward and swung his right leg back and then through the ball. It sailed off the turf. All eyes stayed on the football as it turned end over end toward the goalposts. The referees hesitated a moment as the ball passed the uprights before raising their hands and signaling that the kick was good. Just then the clock ran out .

Johnny, Rico, and Jimmy were hugging each other, jumping up and down .

“We did it! We did it!” Rico was yelling at them .

The rest of the team caught them on the field in mid-jump, and they were buried in a swarm of white and green jerseys. Joe Sheffield stayed on the sidelines and took it all in. It was a moment he would remember forever .

Coach Sheffield came to the Carlow East that night with the championship trophy. The Carlow regulars were as excited as the team, and nobody more so than Mary McKenna .

“Three cheers for Mary!” Frankie yelled out. And everybody cheered .

“Coach!” Frankie said when the cheers had died somewhat. “Will you say a few words?”

They got a chair for him and he stood on it with the trophy in his right hand. The place went dead silent .

“As you guys know, I’m not much for words. I just want to say that this might be a small league and an insignificant victory to the outside world, but I could not be prouder of a group of guys than I am of this team, and I would have said the same thing to you had you lost today. You are a team. You are so much of a team that I’ll bet none of you noticed throughout the entire season that you were the only integrated team in this league. That’s right. Some of you are colored.” Everybody in the bar laughed. Joe put his hands up to quiet them .

“There are leaders on this team who I assure you will be leaders in life. And there were friendships made that will also last a lifetime. For me, I will always cherish this trophy.”

Everybody clapped as Frankie helped Joe off the stool. There were more than a few misty eyes in the place. Johnny was standing with his buddies, Rico and Floyd .

“I’m with the coach,” Johnny told them. “I’ll never forget this season. And you guys are two of the leaders he was talking about.”

Floyd hoisted his glass. “To friendships that will last a lifetime,” he said, and all three tapped their glasses together before draining them .

They went their separate ways after that night, assembling only one more time as a team-six months after the Navajos game. They met at the Carlow East before heading to the funeral up in Harlem. Mary McKenna went with them. Her good friend Pink Floyd had been killed in Vietnam .

Jack spent several hours with Henry on his execution day.

He arrived around noon. As six o’clock came closer and closer, Henry’s treatment got better and better. He and Jack were taken to a room with a couch and two comfortable chairs. All Henry’s shackles were removed. He seemed unusually calm for a man about to die. Jack had not heard anything from Wofford, so they had no idea whether Judge Fletcher was going to intervene or not.

“Henry,” Jack asked after a few minutes of awkward silence, “tell me how you have come to be so articulate.” They were sitting in the two chairs facing each other. Of course, the chair Henry was sitting in was too small for him.

“I surprised you, didn’t I?”

“You sure did.”

“Well, I’ve had a lot of time in this prison. After a while, I decided I was going to make use of it. I started reading everything I could read-educating myself. Eventually, I got a letter from an inmate-a guard had told him about me-asking for my help. I filed a petition on his behalf and got him a reduced sentence. After that, I was a jailhouse lawyer. I’ll bet I’ve written over a hundred briefs.”

“So how come you never filed a brief on behalf of yourself? You knew about the Brady rule.”

“I’m not exactly sure. Maybe I knew I would only have one shot, and I didn’t want to waste it by filing myself. The appellate hill becomes a mountain when you’re representing yourself. I figured somebody would come along before they gave me that final cocktail.”

“And that somebody was me.” And I haven’t been able to get it done .

“There are some good things that are going to come from this execution, Jack,” Henry told him. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to see my mother. I just have a good feeling about that. We’ve got a lot to talk about, her and I. The other good thing is, I’m getting out of here. Seventeen years in a six-by-nine cell is enough. I almost prefer death.”

“You never talked about your mother before.”

“There’s not much to tell. She died when I was six.”

“Really? From what?”

“A series of very bad decisions. My mom was a heroin addict. All her boyfriends were drug addicts who used to beat the shit out of her and me. It wasn’t a model childhood.”

“I can only imagine.”

“No you can’t, Jack. There’s nothing in your universe that could help you imagine what happened to me. There was a little creek by the apartment complex where we lived. One day I couldn’t find my mother anywhere. She hadn’t come home the night before, which was rare even for her. I looked everywhere. I found her down by the creek. She was lying there, naked-naked and dead. Her latest boyfriend had strangled her for who knows what reason. They finally caught him, but that didn’t do me any good. I went from the hell of living with my mother to the hell of foster care. From getting the shit beat out of me by drug addicts to getting the shit beat out of me by people who were paid by the government. I can’t even tell you what happened to me in foster care. It was worse than anything that goes on in here.”