style="font-size:15px;"> “Not after they hear about all you’ve accomplished,” Miss Mackie said, resuming her seat and indicating the chair across from her desk. “I’m very impressed with your credentials.”
“Thank you.” Despite her somewhat austere looks, there was a warmth about Josephine Mackie that had Pam relaxing.
“It must have been thrilling, being in the Olympics.”
“An unbelievable experience, yes.”
“You won your gold medal when you were only twentyone. I’m surprised you didn’t try again the next time. You were only twenty-five.”
“I’d planned to. I’d even begun training. But younger women were my competition, and although I hated to admit it, the body doesn’t respond at twenty-five as it does at seventeen no matter how hard you try. And the old-timers have more difficulty getting sponsorship money. I decided to turn professional.”
Miss Mackie smiled. She had no trouble understanding the body’s limitations. She glanced down at Pam’s file, then back up. “I hope you’ll understand that I need to ask these questions. Although the college where you coached spoke highly of you, you wrote on your application that they fired you. Why was that?”
“I have no problem answering that question.” Pam crossed her legs and adjusted her cotton skirt. “In training for the Olympics, I learned that an athlete must try to be the best he can be, to push as hard as physically possible and to keep a positive attitude about winning. When I began coaching, I approached the team with the same no-excuses, hard-work strategy. The college administration didn’t agree with my perfectionist methods, even though we’d gone from last place to second in our division. They thought I expected too much from the boys.”
Honesty, even at her own expense. Miss Mackie liked that. “Our Titans aren’t in last place, but we haven’t had a championship team since 1972, the third consecutive year they won the title.”
“That’s impressive. Who was your coach then?”
“Dale McCormick, the man who just retired. He was a real fireball back then, but he seemed to run out of steam.” She watched Pam’s crossed leg rock rhythmically as she sat. Not nerves, she decided, but rather Pam seemed to have trouble remaining idle. “You look as if you have a lot of energy.”
“I do. And a great deal of enthusiasm and love of football.”
Josephine crossed her hands over the closed file. She had no regrets about hiring this young woman, yet it wouldn’t hurt to bring up the concerns voiced by Patrick Kelsey last week. They were apprehensions shared by several others on the school board, she was certain. “Tell me, do you run into any problems as a female coaching young men in an almost exclusively male sport?”
Pam nodded. “A few. I find as I go in that the boys have their reservations. Many think that women don’t even understand football, much less how to coach the game. I usually let them make their jokes, get it out of their systems, and then we get down to work. Once they see that my methods work, they forget I’m a woman. The same theory applies to the school board.”
Miss Mackie found it difficult to believe that young men would forget Pam was a woman, but she let it go. “You certainly have a great deal of confidence.”
If only you knew, Pam thought, but she smiled. “I’ve found that focusing on your strong points and learning to compensate for your weak points builds confidence. And going into a game—or a new job—with confidence is half the battle.”
Leaning back in her chair, the principal studied the young woman seated across from her a long moment, then nodded. “I like your attitude, Pam. I believe you can put the Tyler Titans back into the running for the championship.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“So now, are you settled in? You mentioned you’d be sharing a friend’s apartment.”
“Yes. Rosemary Dusold. She’s a physical therapist and she has a lovely place on Morgan Avenue.”
“I know the house. Beautifully refurbished a while back. Marge Peterson lives on Morgan Avenue. She runs Marge’s Diner right off the town square.”
“Oh, yes. I drove around town yesterday, getting oriented. Is the food pretty good?”
“I don’t eat out much, but they tell me it is. The diner is sort of a gathering spot for folks around here.”
“I noticed it was crowded when I passed by. You’ve lived here all your life?”
“Yes. Tyler has its drawbacks, but I’m comfortable here. It’s a nice, quiet way of life.”
“Coming from Chicago, I like the country atmosphere. I drove out to a lake yesterday and saw this beautiful old place they’re evidently renovating. I believe the sign said Timberlake. I’m glad it’s being redone instead of torn down. These old buildings have such charm. Tyler might attract even more visitors when they finish.”
Miss Mackie pressed her lips together tightly. She’d heard some disturbing things at the Hair Affair last week—that a long-buried body had been found on the grounds of the lodge. However, she hated gossip and wasn’t about to pass any on to this newcomer. “I’m not sure Tyler wants tourism. We kind of enjoy being a sleepy little community.”
“Who owns Timberlake, do you know?”
“Judson Ingalls. His family goes just about as far back as the founding of Tyler. The Ingalls family also owns Ingalls Farm and Machinery and a variety of other holdings.”
“I believe Rosemary and I drove past his home on Elm Street. A beautiful Victorian house.”
“You’ll undoubtedly meet Mr. Ingalls at the games. He’s a member of the Booster Club and a big supporter of our athletic program.” Leaning forward, she changed the subject. “Do you have any questions about your position?”
“Well, I’d hoped you might have some films I could watch on last year’s games. Some of those players are probably on this year’s team as well, and it would give me some idea of their capabilities. Naturally, I’d also like to see the boys’ school records so I can get to know them a bit before we meet next week.”
“I believe our gym teacher, Patrick Kelsey, can help you with all that. Dale McCormick turned over all records to Patrick when he left. I can arrange an introduction or give you his number.”
Pam felt herself stiffen a bit and hoped the astute woman hadn’t noticed. “We’ve met, in the town square last Saturday. I have to ask you. Did Patrick Kelsey want to be football coach?”
So they hadn’t hit it off, Miss Mackie thought. She wasn’t surprised, after her last conversation with Patrick, although she’d hoped he would keep an open mind. “I suspect he did. Patrick played football here at Tyler when he was in high school, and he was an outstanding athlete. He’d been out of college a couple of years before he moved back. Dale McCormick was still doing well with our football teams, but we badly needed a basketball coach. I called Patrick and persuaded him to take over that spot. He’s made those boys into winners, and I think he’s happy in basketball now.”
Pam folded and refolded the edge of her skirt thoughtfully. “I got the impression he wasn’t pleased
