“McGee!” he yelled, digging his fingers into my girdle pads, jerking me backwards. “I said, line up off the right shoulder of the tackle. Can’t you hear?” My heart pounded. My mouth dried up. From behind me there were nervous chuckles from my fellow players. It was afternoon, late August, humidity 90 percent in mid Missouri. Across the field in the new swimming pool, Donovan’s Mellow Yellow blasted from a speaker. It was sophomore football and in these times in my town, high