The Underdogs of Southeast

"We always got a chance," Day said. "I know I'll get tired, but that's not the time to think about it. I got to lead the team."

Halfway through the second quarter, Day stood on the sidelines with his jersey and pads off. He had strained his arm somehow, either from throwing or getting pounded by Grain Valley linemen. One of the Knights yanked on Day's arm, trying to get the muscles back in order. Reggie Johnson took his place at quarterback.

"They just been hitting it all night. I threw it and it went out," Day said. "I don't know what happened. Got a knot in here or something."

Four minutes into the second quarter, Pulliam fumbled a kickoff return. Grain Valley took over at the 17-yard line and quickly scored again, making it 41-0. During the next kickoff, Pulliam made it 15 yards before an Eagles player spun him around by the jersey, lifting him off the ground as if to launch him, then dropped him. Lewman stalked the sidelines and talked to himself: "You think you have the game under control...."

The Grain Valley students sitting in the Southeast stands left in the second quarter, but Southeast now had one parent. Henry Pulliam, Bryce's father, wore a blue Super Bowl XXV jersey and a gray tweed cap. He stood on the bleachers, watching the game over the cheerleaders' heads. The Southeast cheerleaders still shouted and stomped, despite the score.

On the Grain Valley side, with victory a sure thing, talk in the stands was no longer on the game. Instead one couple talked about their recent trip to Disneyland. Another woman discussed her flight plans. "I just hate flying in those small planes. I feel so much safer in the big ones." The cheerleaders jumped on a padded mat, a luxury not extended to the Knights' girls.

At halftime, the Grain Valley band filed onto the field. The visiting locker rooms are in the high school's main building, about a quarter-mile from the field. There was no sense using the 20-minute break to walk back and forth, so Lewman gathered the Knights near the north goal line. Day massaged his shoulder. The rest of the players lay on their backs beneath the goal post. A few listlessly tore at the grass.

Lewman stood before them. He lectured his players against trying to struggle forward after being hit. "Is this Dancing With the Stars?" he asked. "When you get tagged, go down!"

The coach looked for something positive. "We hit them hard for a quarter and a half, and they were shook. They weren't ready for that. So I know you got it in you. Let's get our pride back."

As the team stretched out, Suber came up behind Lewman. "Coach, why don't we do that rotation?" he suggested. "Moving the guys in and out of the line will keep us fresh."

Lewman nodded. "Yeah, we could try that out."

Day approached the coach next. He wanted to quarterback again.

"Let's see you roll your arm," Lewman said, and he swept his own arm around from back to front. Day mimicked the motion as best he could. Lewman shook his head. "If you can't move it and you get hit on it again, that means you're going to get hurt."

"I can do it," Day said. "Let me do some practice passes."

Lewman shook his head. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Day walked away, muttering something under his breath.

Lewman shouted, "Hey! Did I say no?"

Two days before the Grain Valley game, Day sat at the ground level of the Manual Career & Tech Center, near the door to the weight room. Day grew up watching his brothers play football. He'd waited years for his turn.

"I have, oh, eight or nine of them," he said. "One went to Emporia State to play college ball. Another played college, too. That's what I want to do."

At the start of the season, Day's niece had just been born, and his sister and grandmother needed help. "I came in two weeks after they started. I just had to help at home, helping out my grandmother. When you got a 1-month-old baby at the house, you got a lot to take care of."

As a senior, Day looks for players who haven't been showing up for practice and tries to talk them into returning. "Just yesterday, a guy quit at practice because he hadn't been showing up, and Lewman was going to make him run and he didn't want to run," he said. "He told me he'd be back, and I believe him. Deep down, I know he didn't want to quit."

The Knights complain that opposing teams expect them to be thugs because they're at an inner-city school. During the October 5 game against Westport, Suber heard Westport fans say they expected a riot to break out.

"I just hear them talking about how, if we don't win, we were going to fight the other team," Suber said. "Everybody stereotypes — I understand that. But we're not that way."

Looking at Southeast's press over the past few years, it's clear why Suber is worried about the school's reputation.