ExScoop
10-18-2011, 10:21 AM
PREMONT — It had all the hallmarks of a Friday night: lights, sweat, tears, suspense, the very survival of a tiny town hanging in the balance.
And a group of 28 boys wanted to save it themselves, if only for one night.
Never before has the district sold so many game tickets: 1,627, more than half the town's population.
Premont fans packed side by side in the aging and faded football stadium, a sea of cheering red and sparkly homecoming ribbons. It has been six years since the varsity football team had a winning season, or even full home-side bleachers.
The boys ached for victory.
Needed it.
They dedicated the game Sept. 30 to the scores of former students who, for the first time in memory, returned in big groups for the homecoming game, thinking it could be the district's last. At a pep rally the night before the game, the football team captain gave them the spirit stick.
The state's decision to close Premont Independent School District by next year has galvanized the town, inspiring a sense of pride reborn in residents for their struggling schools. For years, community involvement dwindled as test scores worsened, the district spiraled deeper in debt, campuses fell apart and the football team lost game after game.
Residents, parents and school officials say the state's announcement this summer was the wake-up call Premont long has needed and they hope the renewed school spirit will help change the state's mind as the district appeals the closure decision.
But is it too late?
Interim Superintendent Ernest Singleton intends to ask the state for a one-year extension, but state officials say they can't remember a time when the Texas Education Agency gave a reprieve to other school districts in Premont's position.
Not one of the districts slated for closure since 1999 changed the education commissioner's mind.
In the locker room before the game, Premont native and assistant football coach Hector Guerra told the boys that a win had never mattered so much, he said.
"I'm asking you," he said, "to carry this town on your shoulders."n n nPremont's homecoming had fallen by the wayside.
Alumni haven't returned for the annual football game, even though many still live in town. The homecoming crowds in Premont usually are just as thin as the crowds at any other game, about 500 people at most on the home side.
"It's just another hyped-up game with a homecoming court," Guerra said.
Not this year.
In late September, former students returned to the town in droves, welcomed home by an electronic Dairy Queen sign on U.S. Highway 281. They made plans for barbecues, tailgating parties and informal reunions at a local bar.
Then it rained.
On a Thursday afternoon, three hours before the big homecoming parade was scheduled to start, the clouds broke open, flooding Premont's cracked streets and soaking the white butcher paper homecoming signs taped to store windows in the downtown square.
Singleton watched the weather maps from inside the squat administration building and wondered if he needed to cancel the parade and move the pep rally.
The students already were upset by administrators' decisions to do away with other homecoming traditions. The bonfire was canceled because of a burn ban. The boys were prohibited from dressing in cheerleading uniforms during their traditional pep rally spoof. The homecoming dance was moved from Saturday to postgame Friday night.
Singleton said administrators made those tough choices because they wanted to get away from the elaborate event that homecoming had become and instead make students understand that the real importance lies in regular attendance and good test scores.
Premont High School has problems with both.
The school earned the state's lowest rating, unacceptable, three times in the past five years. Last year, just 88 percent of students regularly came to school. Fewer than half passed the state's standardized math and science exams.
Singleton has spent the past four months trying to improve students' performance and fixing problems. He also understood the significance of homecoming, especially this year.
The rain was about to ruin the parade, but that problem fixed itself.
Two hours before the parade's scheduled start, the rain slacked off and murky water filled the streets. The firetrucks and pickups hauling flatbed trailers lined up anyway.
The football players led the parade in dress boots and red jerseys tucked into their belt-cinched bluejeans. They rode atop two glossy Premont Volunteer Fire Department brush trucks like world champions, waving at the crowd and marveling at the number of people who had come to watch the parade snake a two-mile path through town.
"I know that lady!" one senior yelled. "She was my pre-K teacher!"
Onlookers lined the wet streets, old men in cowboy hats and long-sleeved flannel shirts, kids darting in and out of the road for candy and women armed with big lipstick smiles and cameras.
The homecoming parade typically has no more than two firetrucks and four floats, Guerra said. This year, nearly two dozen cars and trucks followed each other through town.
"It hasn't been like this until now," said Daniel Ramos, class of 2007, who, still wearing his red Halliburton coveralls from work in the oil field, watched the parade with his girlfriend and her daughters from a sidewalk near their apartment. "And the only reason is because they might close (the district's) doors and people want to keep that from happening."
The state this summer announced that it planned to close the district by July 2012, shut down the schools, disband the school board and send students and the tax base to another district.
Doing so would destroy Premont, Ramos said.
"Closing down the school is taking away the only thing that really matters. The only thing we look forward to," he said.
Premont used to be a different place. Fifty years ago, it had twice as many schools, almost four dozen businesses and a population of 3,049, according to the Texas State Historical Association.
Then ranching and oil field jobs disappeared, as did families and children.
Today, 2,653 people live in town, a 9 percent population decline since 1990, according to the U.S. Census Bureau. The school district, once the largest in Jim Wells County, in recent years has battled high dropout rates, frequent teacher turnover, low test scores, dilapidated school buildings, rampant misbehavior and overwhelming financial problems, according to the Texas Education Agency.
Voters struck down two district proposals in recent years to raise their tax rates, even as the district struggled to keep enough money in its savings account and make payroll. Premont ISD will hold a third tax rate election Nov. 8 in a move the superintendent described as a gamble to show the state that the district is serious about fixing its finances.
The state, too, has taken notice of the waning support.
In her December progress report to the state, the conservator assigned to oversee the district's academic progress, wrote there is a need to re-establish trust and communication with the community and parents.
She made a list of goals for parents: Make sure students are in school all day, every day. Be active in school activities. Put aside personal opinions for the overall good of the district, a goal she set for nearly every stakeholder group.
She defined goals for the superintendent and principals too, and wrote down three measures that would prove to state officials that the district has made good progress.
Increased community support was listed twice.n n nAs the hourlong parade arrived at the football stadium, the team lined up in the middle of the soggy field and faced a stadium overflowing with hundreds of fans.
Luis "Yayo" Torres, a senior, the football captain and nominee for homecoming king, could barely contain his excitement.
Though forbidden from wearing the cheerleading uniforms, the football players performed their spoof anyway, wearing silky jersey tops adorned with glittery letters, and Yayo in the front hamming it up.
During the spirit stick rally, as the seniors screamed, "We got spirit, yes we do! We got spirit how 'bout you?" Yayo climbed atop the sideline bench and vaulted off in an imperfect toe touch. When the announcer named the seniors the winners, Yayo shot the crowd a big grin.
"I say it goes to the alumni!" he yelled.
Yayo, who has attended Premont schools since early elementary, said he has never seen the community rally like this.
"I guess because Premont hasn't always been the best at football, so I mean, after a while, I guess some people are just like, 'Oh. It's the same thing that's going to happen again and again,'" he said.
The team hasn't been to the playoffs since 2003 and last won a district title in 1971.
By the pep rally, the Premont Cowboys had lost three of their four games, including their Parent's Night game against Ben Bolt and a game against Hebbronville, a team head coach Richard Russell expected to beat.
The last time the Cowboys won a homecoming game, President Bill Clinton was in office, assistant coach Guerra said.
This time would be different, Yayo promised the crowd.
"We're going to dedicate this game not only for us, but for y'all. For all y'all who were once in this spot," he said in a short, off-the-cuff speech at the pep rally.
"We love y'all. Let's go Cowboys!"n n nIn the tense hours before Friday's game, Yayo, who plays fullback and linebacker, sat in a hard plastic chair in the center of the high school locker room, listening intently as the coaches reviewed plays and dissected the opponent's strategy. The team dresses at the high school because the stadium's locker room is too small to accommodate the team.
The Cowboys' opponent Santa Gertrudis Academy is a nontraditional public high school with a self-paced curriculum. It's centered on the campus of Texas A&M University-Kingsville. The football team is still new, just three years old. The Lions have won two games total the past three seasons.
Though Premont's record isn't much better — they were 3-7 last year — they never lost to the Lions.
"I will promise you, if everybody does their job, you will win," head coach Russell told the boys before the game. "Either that, or they're a whole lot better than I think they are. And I don't think so."
Yayo's legs bounced nervously. Before heading for the bus, pads in hand, he unclasped his cross necklace and held it between his palms.
A choirboy in the local Catholic church, Yayo said a silent prayer and asked God to let Premont win.
Then he made the sign of the cross, kissed his fingers and boarded the bus.
As Bus 14 rumbled past the stadium, the boys craned their necks to see the gathered crowd. In the locker room, Russell had warned them that people had been gathering since 3 p.m. at Jimmy Livingston Memorial Stadium
"This will be the most people you ever played in front of," he said.
Fans snatched up all 246 reserve tickets in advance, and general admission tickets were expected to sell quickly, too.
While some had traveled far to be there — one lady came from Chicago — many still lived in Premont but hadn't been to a football game in years. Annie Tijerina, class of 1991, and her husband, Eddie, class of 1992 live in town, but it had been almost 20 years since they last attended a Premont Cowboys home game, they said.
Former student Martha Saenz-Gonzalez showed up early to the game with a pair of reserve tickets and a homemade shirt. The front of the shirt featured a glittering Premont logo, a cowboy astride a bucking bronco, while the back was adorned with her class year, 1961.
Saenz-Gonzalez, who lives in town, said Premont was a different place when she was a student. There were more people, more businesses, and more dedication for the school, she said.
"I don't even know it anymore," she said.n n nAs the crowd settled in, the Premont Cowboys received the opening kickoff.
Through a series of wobbly passes and short rushes, they made their way toward the end zone as the crowd cheered its approval.
On fourth down, just 10 yards shy of the goal, the Cowboys opted to go for it and fell short, turning the ball over to the Lions deep in their territory.
A field goal would have given them an early lead, but the Cowboys don't practice kicking for lack of a strong kicker. On fourth downs within 40 yards, they always go for it.
Over the PA system, the announcer split his time between hawking concession stand goods — menudo and foil-wrapped tacos — and recognizing various graduating classes to a small spattering of applause from the crowd.
"Do we have any football players here?" he asked to a reaction-less audience. "Come on! Have some pride in Premont!"
With 6 minutes, 11 seconds left in the first half, Santa Gertrudis Academy scored its first touchdown and the thin crowd of blue-shirted fans on the visitor's side cheered in earnest.
Premont was silent.
It became obvious that Premont and Santa Gertrudis Academy were more evenly matched than coach Russell had expected.
At halftime, as most of the team lay sprawled in the end zone, an unsmiling Yayo Torres walked arm-in-arm with his mother down the 50-yard line as the homecoming court was announced.
After a suspenseful pause, the announcer called the name of the homecoming king: Gus Garcia, coach Guerra's son and one of Yayo's best friends.
Yayo's mother kissed her son.
"You'll always be my king, baby," she said.
"It doesn't matter," he grumbled, wiped her kiss away and walked off toward his team.
n n n
Through the third quarter, the score remained the same in partially burned-out lights on the scoreboard: 6-0.
The fourth quarter arrived, but no one bothered to change it on the board.
The crowd began to thin, but not by much.
"Let's go boys!" someone shouted from the stands. "Pick your heads up!"
With 1:08 left, still down 6-0, the Cowboys called their final timeout. Santa Gertrudis had the ball on the Cowboys' 15-yard line.
In the huddle, Russell told them, "Get the ball back and we're going to win the game."
The Cowboys stopped them and got the ball back on their own 20-yard line.
After trailing the Lions in a frustrating back-and-forth game, Yayo Torres suddenly saw God answering his prayers.
"Oh my God, are we going to pull this off?" he recalled thinking. "Were we going to pick this town up and show them this wasn't it?"
Quarterback Bryan Ramirez, a senior, threw an incomplete pass before completing a 39-yard pass to Seth Cantu.
The crowd exploded.
Next play, Bryan rushed for eight yards and hopped out of bounds near the 33-yard-line, stopping the clock at 36 seconds.
"Go red go!" the cheerleaders sing-songed from the sidelines.
Bryan threw an incomplete pass, and then another.
Twenty-four seconds remained on the clock and the Cowboys faced a fourth down, with five yards to go for a first.
Over the PA, the announcer thanked the alumni for coming.
Bryan threw it to junior Alex Infante, who broke a tackle and ran down the field, picking up 15 yards."Line up, line up, line up!" the coaches screamed from the sideline.
They scrambled to their positions at the 18-yard line — so close to the end zone — and the referees called a false start, pushing the Cowboys back to the 23.
Fewer than 10 seconds on the clock.
The town, the coaches, the team wanted this.
A homecoming win in front of the biggest crowd these boys had seen.
Redemption. A reprieve.
One night when the state's opinion didn't matter.
Bryan passed the ball to senior Neto Gonzalez. He cut left, scrambling for the sidelines to stop the clock.
The Lions held him, kicking and squirming, just inches inbounds.
The clock ticked to zero.
The football players heard the announcer call it.
"And that's the end of the ballgame."
Fans shook their heads as the boys trudged to slap hands with the Lions, their faces wet with tears and sweat.
As they turned back toward the few fans still left in the stands, Coach Guerra asked them to put on a brave face for the crowd.
"Let me see how much character you have," he said.
The 30-member band belted out the alma mater.
The teary-eyed football players, in rhythm, pumped their helmets toward the sky.
n n n
The boys sat alone in the bus, heads down in the shadows. Some cried. One punched a seat.
Coach Guerra stepped aboard.
"You want me to talk, or do you want to move on?" he asked.
"Say something coach," Yayo called quietly from the back.
"You gave this town all you had," Guerra said.
"Hey, it's real easy to be happy and in a good mood and the right person when we win," he said. "But it's times like these that we find out who we really are."
The state will announce its decision in December.
And a group of 28 boys wanted to save it themselves, if only for one night.
Never before has the district sold so many game tickets: 1,627, more than half the town's population.
Premont fans packed side by side in the aging and faded football stadium, a sea of cheering red and sparkly homecoming ribbons. It has been six years since the varsity football team had a winning season, or even full home-side bleachers.
The boys ached for victory.
Needed it.
They dedicated the game Sept. 30 to the scores of former students who, for the first time in memory, returned in big groups for the homecoming game, thinking it could be the district's last. At a pep rally the night before the game, the football team captain gave them the spirit stick.
The state's decision to close Premont Independent School District by next year has galvanized the town, inspiring a sense of pride reborn in residents for their struggling schools. For years, community involvement dwindled as test scores worsened, the district spiraled deeper in debt, campuses fell apart and the football team lost game after game.
Residents, parents and school officials say the state's announcement this summer was the wake-up call Premont long has needed and they hope the renewed school spirit will help change the state's mind as the district appeals the closure decision.
But is it too late?
Interim Superintendent Ernest Singleton intends to ask the state for a one-year extension, but state officials say they can't remember a time when the Texas Education Agency gave a reprieve to other school districts in Premont's position.
Not one of the districts slated for closure since 1999 changed the education commissioner's mind.
In the locker room before the game, Premont native and assistant football coach Hector Guerra told the boys that a win had never mattered so much, he said.
"I'm asking you," he said, "to carry this town on your shoulders."n n nPremont's homecoming had fallen by the wayside.
Alumni haven't returned for the annual football game, even though many still live in town. The homecoming crowds in Premont usually are just as thin as the crowds at any other game, about 500 people at most on the home side.
"It's just another hyped-up game with a homecoming court," Guerra said.
Not this year.
In late September, former students returned to the town in droves, welcomed home by an electronic Dairy Queen sign on U.S. Highway 281. They made plans for barbecues, tailgating parties and informal reunions at a local bar.
Then it rained.
On a Thursday afternoon, three hours before the big homecoming parade was scheduled to start, the clouds broke open, flooding Premont's cracked streets and soaking the white butcher paper homecoming signs taped to store windows in the downtown square.
Singleton watched the weather maps from inside the squat administration building and wondered if he needed to cancel the parade and move the pep rally.
The students already were upset by administrators' decisions to do away with other homecoming traditions. The bonfire was canceled because of a burn ban. The boys were prohibited from dressing in cheerleading uniforms during their traditional pep rally spoof. The homecoming dance was moved from Saturday to postgame Friday night.
Singleton said administrators made those tough choices because they wanted to get away from the elaborate event that homecoming had become and instead make students understand that the real importance lies in regular attendance and good test scores.
Premont High School has problems with both.
The school earned the state's lowest rating, unacceptable, three times in the past five years. Last year, just 88 percent of students regularly came to school. Fewer than half passed the state's standardized math and science exams.
Singleton has spent the past four months trying to improve students' performance and fixing problems. He also understood the significance of homecoming, especially this year.
The rain was about to ruin the parade, but that problem fixed itself.
Two hours before the parade's scheduled start, the rain slacked off and murky water filled the streets. The firetrucks and pickups hauling flatbed trailers lined up anyway.
The football players led the parade in dress boots and red jerseys tucked into their belt-cinched bluejeans. They rode atop two glossy Premont Volunteer Fire Department brush trucks like world champions, waving at the crowd and marveling at the number of people who had come to watch the parade snake a two-mile path through town.
"I know that lady!" one senior yelled. "She was my pre-K teacher!"
Onlookers lined the wet streets, old men in cowboy hats and long-sleeved flannel shirts, kids darting in and out of the road for candy and women armed with big lipstick smiles and cameras.
The homecoming parade typically has no more than two firetrucks and four floats, Guerra said. This year, nearly two dozen cars and trucks followed each other through town.
"It hasn't been like this until now," said Daniel Ramos, class of 2007, who, still wearing his red Halliburton coveralls from work in the oil field, watched the parade with his girlfriend and her daughters from a sidewalk near their apartment. "And the only reason is because they might close (the district's) doors and people want to keep that from happening."
The state this summer announced that it planned to close the district by July 2012, shut down the schools, disband the school board and send students and the tax base to another district.
Doing so would destroy Premont, Ramos said.
"Closing down the school is taking away the only thing that really matters. The only thing we look forward to," he said.
Premont used to be a different place. Fifty years ago, it had twice as many schools, almost four dozen businesses and a population of 3,049, according to the Texas State Historical Association.
Then ranching and oil field jobs disappeared, as did families and children.
Today, 2,653 people live in town, a 9 percent population decline since 1990, according to the U.S. Census Bureau. The school district, once the largest in Jim Wells County, in recent years has battled high dropout rates, frequent teacher turnover, low test scores, dilapidated school buildings, rampant misbehavior and overwhelming financial problems, according to the Texas Education Agency.
Voters struck down two district proposals in recent years to raise their tax rates, even as the district struggled to keep enough money in its savings account and make payroll. Premont ISD will hold a third tax rate election Nov. 8 in a move the superintendent described as a gamble to show the state that the district is serious about fixing its finances.
The state, too, has taken notice of the waning support.
In her December progress report to the state, the conservator assigned to oversee the district's academic progress, wrote there is a need to re-establish trust and communication with the community and parents.
She made a list of goals for parents: Make sure students are in school all day, every day. Be active in school activities. Put aside personal opinions for the overall good of the district, a goal she set for nearly every stakeholder group.
She defined goals for the superintendent and principals too, and wrote down three measures that would prove to state officials that the district has made good progress.
Increased community support was listed twice.n n nAs the hourlong parade arrived at the football stadium, the team lined up in the middle of the soggy field and faced a stadium overflowing with hundreds of fans.
Luis "Yayo" Torres, a senior, the football captain and nominee for homecoming king, could barely contain his excitement.
Though forbidden from wearing the cheerleading uniforms, the football players performed their spoof anyway, wearing silky jersey tops adorned with glittery letters, and Yayo in the front hamming it up.
During the spirit stick rally, as the seniors screamed, "We got spirit, yes we do! We got spirit how 'bout you?" Yayo climbed atop the sideline bench and vaulted off in an imperfect toe touch. When the announcer named the seniors the winners, Yayo shot the crowd a big grin.
"I say it goes to the alumni!" he yelled.
Yayo, who has attended Premont schools since early elementary, said he has never seen the community rally like this.
"I guess because Premont hasn't always been the best at football, so I mean, after a while, I guess some people are just like, 'Oh. It's the same thing that's going to happen again and again,'" he said.
The team hasn't been to the playoffs since 2003 and last won a district title in 1971.
By the pep rally, the Premont Cowboys had lost three of their four games, including their Parent's Night game against Ben Bolt and a game against Hebbronville, a team head coach Richard Russell expected to beat.
The last time the Cowboys won a homecoming game, President Bill Clinton was in office, assistant coach Guerra said.
This time would be different, Yayo promised the crowd.
"We're going to dedicate this game not only for us, but for y'all. For all y'all who were once in this spot," he said in a short, off-the-cuff speech at the pep rally.
"We love y'all. Let's go Cowboys!"n n nIn the tense hours before Friday's game, Yayo, who plays fullback and linebacker, sat in a hard plastic chair in the center of the high school locker room, listening intently as the coaches reviewed plays and dissected the opponent's strategy. The team dresses at the high school because the stadium's locker room is too small to accommodate the team.
The Cowboys' opponent Santa Gertrudis Academy is a nontraditional public high school with a self-paced curriculum. It's centered on the campus of Texas A&M University-Kingsville. The football team is still new, just three years old. The Lions have won two games total the past three seasons.
Though Premont's record isn't much better — they were 3-7 last year — they never lost to the Lions.
"I will promise you, if everybody does their job, you will win," head coach Russell told the boys before the game. "Either that, or they're a whole lot better than I think they are. And I don't think so."
Yayo's legs bounced nervously. Before heading for the bus, pads in hand, he unclasped his cross necklace and held it between his palms.
A choirboy in the local Catholic church, Yayo said a silent prayer and asked God to let Premont win.
Then he made the sign of the cross, kissed his fingers and boarded the bus.
As Bus 14 rumbled past the stadium, the boys craned their necks to see the gathered crowd. In the locker room, Russell had warned them that people had been gathering since 3 p.m. at Jimmy Livingston Memorial Stadium
"This will be the most people you ever played in front of," he said.
Fans snatched up all 246 reserve tickets in advance, and general admission tickets were expected to sell quickly, too.
While some had traveled far to be there — one lady came from Chicago — many still lived in Premont but hadn't been to a football game in years. Annie Tijerina, class of 1991, and her husband, Eddie, class of 1992 live in town, but it had been almost 20 years since they last attended a Premont Cowboys home game, they said.
Former student Martha Saenz-Gonzalez showed up early to the game with a pair of reserve tickets and a homemade shirt. The front of the shirt featured a glittering Premont logo, a cowboy astride a bucking bronco, while the back was adorned with her class year, 1961.
Saenz-Gonzalez, who lives in town, said Premont was a different place when she was a student. There were more people, more businesses, and more dedication for the school, she said.
"I don't even know it anymore," she said.n n nAs the crowd settled in, the Premont Cowboys received the opening kickoff.
Through a series of wobbly passes and short rushes, they made their way toward the end zone as the crowd cheered its approval.
On fourth down, just 10 yards shy of the goal, the Cowboys opted to go for it and fell short, turning the ball over to the Lions deep in their territory.
A field goal would have given them an early lead, but the Cowboys don't practice kicking for lack of a strong kicker. On fourth downs within 40 yards, they always go for it.
Over the PA system, the announcer split his time between hawking concession stand goods — menudo and foil-wrapped tacos — and recognizing various graduating classes to a small spattering of applause from the crowd.
"Do we have any football players here?" he asked to a reaction-less audience. "Come on! Have some pride in Premont!"
With 6 minutes, 11 seconds left in the first half, Santa Gertrudis Academy scored its first touchdown and the thin crowd of blue-shirted fans on the visitor's side cheered in earnest.
Premont was silent.
It became obvious that Premont and Santa Gertrudis Academy were more evenly matched than coach Russell had expected.
At halftime, as most of the team lay sprawled in the end zone, an unsmiling Yayo Torres walked arm-in-arm with his mother down the 50-yard line as the homecoming court was announced.
After a suspenseful pause, the announcer called the name of the homecoming king: Gus Garcia, coach Guerra's son and one of Yayo's best friends.
Yayo's mother kissed her son.
"You'll always be my king, baby," she said.
"It doesn't matter," he grumbled, wiped her kiss away and walked off toward his team.
n n n
Through the third quarter, the score remained the same in partially burned-out lights on the scoreboard: 6-0.
The fourth quarter arrived, but no one bothered to change it on the board.
The crowd began to thin, but not by much.
"Let's go boys!" someone shouted from the stands. "Pick your heads up!"
With 1:08 left, still down 6-0, the Cowboys called their final timeout. Santa Gertrudis had the ball on the Cowboys' 15-yard line.
In the huddle, Russell told them, "Get the ball back and we're going to win the game."
The Cowboys stopped them and got the ball back on their own 20-yard line.
After trailing the Lions in a frustrating back-and-forth game, Yayo Torres suddenly saw God answering his prayers.
"Oh my God, are we going to pull this off?" he recalled thinking. "Were we going to pick this town up and show them this wasn't it?"
Quarterback Bryan Ramirez, a senior, threw an incomplete pass before completing a 39-yard pass to Seth Cantu.
The crowd exploded.
Next play, Bryan rushed for eight yards and hopped out of bounds near the 33-yard-line, stopping the clock at 36 seconds.
"Go red go!" the cheerleaders sing-songed from the sidelines.
Bryan threw an incomplete pass, and then another.
Twenty-four seconds remained on the clock and the Cowboys faced a fourth down, with five yards to go for a first.
Over the PA, the announcer thanked the alumni for coming.
Bryan threw it to junior Alex Infante, who broke a tackle and ran down the field, picking up 15 yards."Line up, line up, line up!" the coaches screamed from the sideline.
They scrambled to their positions at the 18-yard line — so close to the end zone — and the referees called a false start, pushing the Cowboys back to the 23.
Fewer than 10 seconds on the clock.
The town, the coaches, the team wanted this.
A homecoming win in front of the biggest crowd these boys had seen.
Redemption. A reprieve.
One night when the state's opinion didn't matter.
Bryan passed the ball to senior Neto Gonzalez. He cut left, scrambling for the sidelines to stop the clock.
The Lions held him, kicking and squirming, just inches inbounds.
The clock ticked to zero.
The football players heard the announcer call it.
"And that's the end of the ballgame."
Fans shook their heads as the boys trudged to slap hands with the Lions, their faces wet with tears and sweat.
As they turned back toward the few fans still left in the stands, Coach Guerra asked them to put on a brave face for the crowd.
"Let me see how much character you have," he said.
The 30-member band belted out the alma mater.
The teary-eyed football players, in rhythm, pumped their helmets toward the sky.
n n n
The boys sat alone in the bus, heads down in the shadows. Some cried. One punched a seat.
Coach Guerra stepped aboard.
"You want me to talk, or do you want to move on?" he asked.
"Say something coach," Yayo called quietly from the back.
"You gave this town all you had," Guerra said.
"Hey, it's real easy to be happy and in a good mood and the right person when we win," he said. "But it's times like these that we find out who we really are."
The state will announce its decision in December.