Mick Peterson
Homecoming
Dress-up days, the bonfire and pep
rally, the parade, the royalty, the alumni, and, most of all, the game---all of
the pageantry and hoopla connected with a high school Homecoming provides the
background for Mick Peterson’s second novel Homecoming,
a continuation of the story begun in Once
a Coach. After that thrilling
opening win against Valley Forge, the Hillsdale Hillmen have struggled, losing
two of their last three games and in danger of the missing the state playoffs.
Their suspended coach Ben Reynolds is also having his own personal troubles,
trying to deal with the fact that he must serve his punishment handed down by
the state and remain on the sidelines, not being able to help.
Others in Hillsdale are also
experiencing difficulties, specifically members of the football team and
cheerleading squad, while the school tries to use the momentum of the week’s
festivities to regain the edge that Hillsdale has always been noted for.
However, it’s a mystery man from Hillsdale’s past needing his own Homecoming
experience who emerges as a Good Samaritan, giving all of the Hillmen a chance
to straighten matters out.
Cover design by Anthony Easton
Mick Peterson resides in Pontiac, Illinois,
with his wife Carole and his daughter Emily. They are also parents of Katie
(Dr. Bryan) Huff, Julie, and Drew (Jenna), and grandparents of Ethan and Kanen Huff. Mick graduated from
Augustana (IL) College and received his Master’s degree from Illinois State
University. After
thirty-four years in education, he retired following the
2008 school year. He began his career in Flora (IL) High School (1974-84) where
he taught English and was an assistant coach in both football and basketball.
In 1984, he moved to Walnut (IL) High School, where he taught both English and
PE and served as head football coach, assistant boys basketball coach, and head
girls track coach. His football teams in Walnut won four conference
championships and advanced to the quarterfinal round in the Class 1A State
Tournament in each of his five years, compiling an overall record of 50-9.
The Peterson family finally settled in Pontiac in 1989, where he was
a member of both the PE and, more recently, the English departments for the
past nineteen years. He served as the head football coach for eighteen years,
assistant boys basketball coach for four years, assistant girls track coach for
five years and head girls track coach for eleven years. During his tenure as
head football coach, his squads won ten conference championships and qualified
for the State playoffs on fifteen different occasions. Twice Pontiac reached the semi-final round, and in
1993, they captured the Class 3A championship. After the 2006 season, he
retired from coaching with an overall record at Pontiac of 136-47.
Mick had articles published in various coaching
magazines throughout his career, and he has been responsible for publishing a
bi-monthly church newsletter. Homecoming is
his second novel, following the release of Once
a Coach in 2007.
“Hillmen on three! One, two, three!
HILLMEN!”
In unison, the Hillsdale Hillmen
snapped on their shiny gold helmets and began to follow Head Coach Ben Reynolds
out the locker room door. On this night, though, on this Homecoming night,
Coach Reynolds decided to try something he hadn’t done in years. Instead of
exiting through the south door directly towards the field, Ben Reynolds led his
squad towards the north end of the locker room. He opened a huge door, leading
to a cement ramp walkway.
Reynolds trudged up the ramp with
his squad in tow behind him. It wasn’t a particularly long ramp, some fifty
feet or so. The players’ cleats scraped along the concrete as they shuffled up
the walkway. A large iron door opened, and the team found itself on an old
delivery platform for the maintenance department, right next to a residential
area. To get to the game field from this point, the Hillsdale Hillmen would
have to walk around the school building and then about four or five blocks
through the streets.
When Reynolds first came to Hillsdale
fifteen years ago, this was the only way his teams took the field. The rush his
players would get as they walked together, hand-to-hand, down the middle of Center Street towards
the stadium was exhilarating. People lined the sidewalks much like a parade,
cheering the Hillmen by name, waving pom pons, and clapping their hands in
rhythm.
This practice produced great
results for the first few years….just as long as they won. After the game, the
players also had to walk back to the locker room. If they had been successful,
which they were for twelve straight games, they were almost looked upon as
triumphant gladiators. Little kids would tag alongside them, carrying their
helmets or shoulder pads down the street. Parents, especially dads, would
stroll along, tousling their son’s hair.
After that thrilling opening win
over Valley Forge, the Hillmen had struggled,
winning only two of its last four games. Another loss would possibly jeopardize
their chances for making the playoffs, and Reynolds was going to leave no stone
unturned in what could be his final year at the helm.
“Men, tonight we are going to march
to the field….as a team. I want the captains to lead us four across and the
rest of you are to fall in behind them in pairs. Let’s go. Get moving!” he
ordered.
The Hillmen almost comically bumped
and stumbled into one another, but soon order was restored, and the lines were
formed. Jeff Fairchild turned around. “Follow me,” he said, and he and the
other captains shuffled off the concrete while the others fell in behind.
Reynolds stood behind them
admiringly. He looked for his other coaches, but they were nowhere to be seen.
He was alone with his team. He lagged behind the players about 25 yards, just
to watch the reaction of the crowd.
Amazingly, for the first block or
so, nobody seemed to notice. All Reynolds could hear was the scraping of the
cleats on the asphalt. The squad looked almost like a battle unit on maneuvers,
every step synchronized and choreographed. Their helmets reflected the setting
sun in the western sky; yet not one word could be heard.
A blinking light greeted him above
the gate as Reynolds turned the corner. The sign flashed “Reynolds Field,”
first in green and then in gold. Just at the edge of the gate, his wife Julie
stood, almost at attention, adorned in her typical green and gold outfit, hair
in tails with a huge grin on her face. “Go for it, Ben!” she yelled as her
husband raced into the stadium which had been named after him.
The players were already in
stretching units, performing their pre-game routine, something Reynolds had
taught them year after year. He stood proudly amongst his troops, like a
general inspecting his charges before going off to battle. Coach Reynolds knew this
clever ploy was going to give his squad tonight the results they so sorely wanted.
He noticed his assistants on the
sideline, all standing in a line stoically and expressionless. Each of them
held a clipboard, but it didn’t appear any of them were eager to move.
“Hey! Get out here, you guys! We
got a game to play!” He wanted his coaches to get emotionally involved. Nobody
moved, though.
Coach Reynolds started to head
towards the sideline when he noticed the officials walking in his direction.
The referee wore an exceedingly sinister smile as he approached the Hillsdale
mentor. As they drew nearer, Reynolds recognized the face, and he knew the
reason for the toothy grin.
“Good evening, Coach Reynolds. I’m
your referee, Monty Phillips. I belong to the State Athletic Association, and
you have no business on this field. Remember? You’ve been suspended for this
season, you cheater! You will have to forfeit this game, and you are to be in
my office next……”
“Nooooooooooooooooo!” The cry
echoed through his head.
