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  McCullough went nuts on the sideline, even yelling at his position coach, Fisher, in disgust. “We made that play right there. We’ve still got the lead!” Fisher responded, assuming Hebron would make its chip-shot field goal. Instead, the kick sailed wide right and Plano held on to its 28–21 advantage.

  Moments later, Hebron was close to the end zone again, thanks to a crazy play that almost gave Plano another turnover. After a 36-yard screen pass to the Wildcats’ 2, the Hawks fumbled near the sideline and a mad scramble knocked the ball out of bounds. However, the Plano defenders claimed the ball hit the orange pylon first, which would’ve resulted in a touchback and Plano’s possession.

  “Hebron ball!” the side judge official shouted in response to the defender’s claims.

  “That’s a touchback, ref … the ball hit …”

  “Heee-bron BALL!”

  On the next play, the Hawks reached the end zone and the score was tied.

  The game would go to overtime, where Hebron’s momentum continued. On a fourth-and-3 at the Wildcats’ 8-yard line, the Plano coaches didn’t expect the Hawks to actually run a play, despite coming to the line of scrimmage.

  “Don’t jump offside!” Stewart yelled about six times. “Don’t jump! Don’t jump!”

  Plano jumped. Now it was first down for the Hawks, who would score two plays later for a 35–28 lead. The Wildcats took over possession and got down to the Hebron 5 for their own fourth-and-goal. But despite Stephens’ consistent play all night, the Wildcats elected to use Keys on a run-pass option rollout. The problem wasn’t the play-call, but the direction of the play. While they were discussing the play in the huddle during the timeout, Keys was positive he was told to roll left, despite having trips to the right side. It didn’t make sense: “I thought maybe they’re doing this on purpose to focus on the short side.”

  But Hebron wasn’t fooled, and Keys was stuffed for no gain. By the time he got himself off the ground, the entire Hebron team, coaching staff, and everyone else on their sidelines had rushed onto the field in celebration.

  Walking off the field, the coaches were upset with their quarterback, since they had wanted him to roll to the right. He even had to get other teammates in the huddle to vouch for him that the play was called to the left. Either way, the Wildcats, who were up fourteen at the half, ended up losing the game by seven, falling to 0–1 in district play.

  But it was much worse than that. This one was the game they had to have. The players wouldn’t say it out loud, but deep down, going 0–1 in district pretty much meant going 0–2. The Wildcats knew that they had to travel to Allen High School the next week, the three-time defending state champions who hadn’t lost a game since the 2012 season.

  That made the walk back to the locker room even more depressing for the dejected players and staff.

  In the locker room, McCullough wasn’t very sympathetic. In fact, he painted a not-so-pretty picture to a bunch of already disappointed players.

  “Losing this game is tough. We had to have this game because we know who we play next,” McCullough said, referring to the upcoming game with three-time defending state-champ Allen. “We can’t point fingers at each other. We have to stick together. But it’s not going to be easy now.”

  As the players and coaches exited the locker room, heading for the buses, Fisher wondered out loud, “How did we lose that game?” But he knew the answer. Everyone in the stands knew the answer. Getting shut out in any half, especially the second half, was a recipe for failure.

  Fisher overheard two of his players making small talk en route to the buses.

  “Well, looks like we’re just going to have to go beat Allen,” said senior linebacker Tucker Pollacia to a teammate.

  “Hey Tuck, I like that,” said Fisher. “You’re right. I like that attitude, son.”

  Meanwhile, an eager newspaper reporter, assigned to interview the Plano head coach for the first time, was asking just about every staff member the whereabouts of McCullough.

  “Are you Coach McCullough? I need to do an interview with him?”

  “Nope, sorry. He’s still inside.”

  Finally, the reporter found his target, stopping McCullough just outside the field house for an interview.

  “Hey coach, how are you doing?” he asked with too much pep in his voice for the moment.

  “Well, son, I’ve been better. But what you do need?”

  And so McCullough patiently answered his questions, even though he really didn’t want to talk to anyone. It was just one game, but it was certainly a big game—no matter what team was looming on the schedule next.

  Saturday

  No state in the country produces more Division I college football players than Texas. In an eight-year span from 2007 to 2014, the Lone Star State averaged 377 signees per year. Coming in second was Florida with an average of 333, followed by California at 247.

  Texas had plenty of talented players to choose from, so despite Baylor’s transformation into a national power in college football, the Bears hadn’t stretched their recruiting circles too far past the Texas state lines.

  Not only were there plenty of good players to go around, but the Baylor coaching staff knew the state as well as any other staff. Of the fifteen full-time coaches, including head coach Art Briles, ten of them had played high school football in Texas. Of those ten, eight of them stayed in Texas to play college football as well. All told, they knew every corner of this state. With its success, Baylor hadn’t changed its geographic focus, but the school was now eyeing better players—players that never considered Baylor before, but were now picking the Bears over the likes of Texas, Texas A&M, and even some of the SEC schools like Alabama and LSU that came in and tried to poach some Lone Star talent.

  But with newfound success, scrutiny oftentimes follows. Not only was Baylor in the middle of its own independent investigation for how it handled disciplinary matters; now the NCAA was questioning the football program about totally different matters.

  The NCAA’s rulebook for institutions and their players is nearly 500 pages long. Inside, you can find rules regarding everything from giving players too much food on their plate to putting team-logoed stickers on an envelope. Like the latter, most of the procedures pertain to recruiting and even include updated standards that cover the latest social media policies for Twitter, Instagram, and Snapchat.

  As impossible as it might sound, it’s the job of every school and its coaches to have a full understanding of the rules, regardless of how petty they might be.

  The previous spring, two of Baylor’s coaches, one of whom was Kendal Briles, the son of the head coach and the team’s current offensive coordinator, attended a high school track meet that had some potential recruits participating, including two who had already committed to Baylor.

  Football coaches use track meets as another opportunity to talk with recruits, these competitions serving as a loophole during the NCAA’s quiet periods when visitations are not allowed. The NCAA has specific rules that coaches aren’t even allowed to watch the races of potential recruits, but what makes these guidelines a bit tricky is that other participants are still eligible to be contacted.

  Kendal and wide receivers coach Tate Wallis attended a track meet in the Dallas area to watch a high school junior. Another coach from a different Big 12 team reportedly spotted the pair and turned them into the NCAA for improper conduct, including not properly turning around in the stands while the recruit ran a particular event.

  By early September, the NCAA was fully investigating the accusation. To be proactive, and oftentimes to soften the blow of the punishment, schools will impose a penalty beforehand, just to put a hopeful end to the probing. So as his team practiced in preparation for its Week 2 game against Lamar, a lower-level Division I school from Beaumont, Texas, Art Briles was forced to do the unthinkable.
r />   Both Kendal and Tate would be suspended for the entire game, could not attend any team functions that day, including pregame meetings, or even be at the stadium.

  Jeff Lebby was way more than Baylor’s running backs coach and passing game coordinator. Married to Art’s youngest daughter, Staley, Lebby just happened to be the head coach’s son-in-law. But his connection to the family was also rooted in a lifelong friendship with Kendal, whom he considered to be one of his best friends.

  On Thursday afternoon, two days before the home opener, Kendal poked his head into Lebby’s office.

  “You’ve got it.”

  “What?” Lebby responded, although he knew exactly what this meant. He just needed to hear it again for his own clarification and perhaps to stop his heart from beating so fast.

  “You’ve got it, coach,” Kendal said, telling Lebby that he would have to handle the play-calling duties for the upcoming game.

  About ten seconds later, Art made his way into Lebby’s office.

  “Are you ready?”

  “You’re damn right, I am,” he responded, even if he wasn’t 100 percent sure just yet. “Shit yeah, let’s go.”

  For Lebby, the moment was bittersweet because every coach relishes the opportunity to further his career. Getting the chance to call a game—for Baylor and this high-powered offense, no less—was something that all young coaches dreamed of. At just thirty-one, he had already done more and seen more than many in his profession. At the same time, he hated what his friend and colleagues were going through, and hated that yet again the Bears were in the news for the wrong reasons.

  While outsiders might think a team like Baylor could beat Lamar with the ball boys calling plays, coaches don’t operate that way. All week they had watched tape of Lamar’s 66–3 win over Bacone College. They also knew that any opponent could come in and beat you—if you weren’t ready.

  Jeff wasn’t going to allow that to happen, so over the next two days he worked with offensive graduate assistant Brad Willard, who was now going to assume the role of signaling the plays in from the sideline. In a quiet coaches room on Friday, Lebby would call out the plays, and Willard would signal them. That night, Willard even went home and had his wife call out the plays while he practiced the signals.

  Jeff didn’t sleep much on Friday night, but when he finally got up on Saturday morning, he saw a text message from Kendal, who he knew was upset and hurting over not being able to coach the game.

  “I’m good. Go light ’em up! Have fun!”

  With Kendal’s blessing, Jeff started to get excited about his moment again, although the drive to the field house was rather strange. Jeff and Kendal live about eight minutes away from each other, and it had always been a game-day tradition for Jeff to pick up his friend along the way. But once he arrived at McLane Stadium, Jeff tried to maintain the same routine as always, which included a pregame chat on the bench with longtime offensive line coach, Randy Clements.

  Meanwhile, back at his home, Kendal was subject to the same Fox Southwest broadcast as everyone else, watching the game from his living room, twisting and turning with every Baylor possession.

  On Baylor’s first possession, the Bears didn’t have any dynamic big plays, but were effective in both running and passing the ball and soon enough found the end zone for a touchdown. When Shock Linwood crossed the goal line, it was a huge relief for Lebby, who wasn’t counting on the offense to score on every drive, but “damn sure wanted to score on the first one.”

  Even if Lebby might have been calling a good game, the Baylor players weren’t exactly playing one. In fact, the first half was as sloppy as Art Briles could recall. The defense, even with the return of Shawn Oakman and Orion Stewart, was letting Lamar move the ball up and down the field.

  On offense, quarterback Seth Russell was finding receivers such as Corey Coleman and KD Cannon, but had also found a Lamar defender as well. Leading 21–14 in the second quarter, Baylor had a third-and-1 from its own 11-yard line when Lebby called for a short pass. But the receiver ran the wrong route, and Russell was intercepted for a second time, which led to a game-tying touchdown minutes later.

  “Jeff?” Briles called for Lebby, whom he typically called “Lebb” or “Lebbo” when he was in better moods.

  “Yes, coach.”

  “Run the damn ball.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The entire first half was just a mess. Here was the number-four team in the country facing a squad that competed at the Football Championship Subdivision level (what was once known as Division I-AA), and yet the game was tied, 21–21, midway through the second quarter.

  The Bears were truly missing Kendal and Tate, just for their roles on the sideline if nothing else. Wide receivers at all levels are often considered “divas” who want the ball and want their egos stroked. Sometimes they just need a calming voice. Without those two coaches, however, the receivers were somewhat on their own.

  In fact, a mini-quarrel between Coleman and Russell was taken to Briles in the middle of a defensive series.

  “You guys handle it,” Briles said in a way that let them all know that they needed to come together really quick or this embarrassing first half was going to get even worse.

  Eventually, talent and depth prevailed and the Bears started to pull away in the second half. Russell finished with 342 passing yards and four touchdowns, three of which went to Coleman, but also had three interceptions, prompting his coach to be rather blunt in his postgame interview.

  “Well, as good as he was good, he was bad as he was bad,” Briles said. “He needs to balance between being fearless and being smart.”

  Speaking of balance, the Bears also dominated the ground game as three different backs rushed for one hundred yards en route to a 66–31 win.

  No matter the competition, calling plays for an offense that put up 66 points isn’t a bad first outing for any coach, especially under these odd circumstances. Lebby received high praise afterward through calls and texts from his colleagues, peers, and friends, including one right after the game from Kendal.

  Still, it was a little weird for Lebby to have so much attention thrown his way. But he was about to get more than he could have ever wanted.

  Sunday

  In Texas, football players on all levels share at least one main goal every year: make it to AT&T Stadium in Arlington, Texas.

  For high school players, it means they have reached the playoffs and sometimes deep into the brackets, as this luxurious $1.2 billion stadium has housed a half-dozen state championship games. For the college kids, three Division I schools in Texas, including Baylor, and five other Division II teams have played under the same bright lights at one time or another. And now that the Cotton Bowl has regained its status as one of college football’s most prestigious bowl games, and has since moved from Fair Park in Dallas to AT&T Stadium, getting there is now a goal for many college teams outside of Texas.

  And then there’s the NFL. Every year the Cowboys bring in twenty to twenty-five rookies, and at least half of them admit the Cowboys were either their favorite team growing up, or certainly the favorite team of their families. Making the team and playing games inside the stadium is the ultimate goal: proving to everyone they have indeed reached the pinnacle of pro sports, playing for the Dallas Cowboys, also known as America’s Team.

  As the Cowboys prepared for the 2015 season, with preseason out of the way, it was time to shift the focus to the games that counted. Aside from a few minor roster alterations, the team was getting itself ready for the season opener against the New York Giants the following Sunday night.

  The Cowboys might have been ready. The stadium, however, was not.

  In fact, five days before the Cowboys and Giants would meet in front of an expected crowd of more than 90,000 fans with millions more watching at home on NBC, AT&T Stadium
was hosting a more globally significant event—if that were even possible.

  If Tony Romo, Eli Manning, Dez Bryant, and Odell Beckham Jr. are the best of the best in the NFL, soccer stars such as Lionel Messi are seen as even more iconic throughout the world. Messi and Argentina’s national team played an international “friendly” against Mexico on September 8 in a game that drew more than 82,000 fans.

  Whether it’s football, or fútbol, events at AT&T Stadium usually bring out the best in superstars, and Messi was no exception as he scored a game-tying goal in the final minutes to preserve a 2–2 tie.

  But as soon as the final whistle blew and the fans started to head for the exits, members of the stadium’s change crew were already in the process of transforming the venue from one colossal event into another. Perhaps the biggest challenge involved altering the field, as real grass was rolled out for the soccer game, only to be removed and replaced by the NFL turf, which had been stored in a warehouse-type location within the bowels of the stadium.

  In fact, by the time the Cowboys and Giants took the field on Sunday, September 13, it would be the third different playing surface used at the stadium. On September 5 the Cowboys’ home had also hosted the AdvoCare Classic, the annual early-season college football matchup that featured two of the nation’s best teams, Alabama having defeated Wisconsin, 35–17. Because of the different hash marks and field logos between the college and NFL turfs, the stadium kept two synthetic playing surfaces, along with the occasionally needed grass. In a span of eight days, AT&T Stadium would use all three.

  Back at Valley Ranch, the Cowboys were welcoming some new faces to both the 53-man roster and the practice squad. The latter is a 10-player developmental group who practices with the team and has lockers at the facility, but isn’t eligible to play in games unless they are officially signed to the active roster. Their $6,600 weekly salary is about a quarter of the league minimum for rookie players on the actual team. Still, practice-squad players can earn up to $112,000 per season and have an opportunity to get called up to the roster at any moment.