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But you need to remember it was only one half of a football game! Anything can happen!” He stepped back to the large whiteboard and grabbed the marker. The others in the room thought it was the end of the drumming down of the team. But Coach Big John Fontana was not yet finished.“Do you know who that coach who called me was?” Several of the people in the room shook their heads unconsciously. “It was Coach Baker from Judson High.” The players looked around at each other. Their faces blankly asking each other as well as the coaches if what their head coach had said was correct. “He was jealous of me because of the way my team acted in the face of adversity. But apparently, I have not taught you how to act with a little bit of class.” A few more silent moments of reflection on life filled the room. “Get to your position coaches so we can see what we need to fix; because believe you me, we ain’t played perfect, yet!”The friends and family formed up outside of the stadium locker room door. It still lacked an hour of noon when Cadfael brought his ship to harbour. A gentle breeze had risen and dispersed the last of the mist and in the clear light that followed, the World looked new-made. At this time of the year, Samos was a green isle. By autumn, the hot sun would have sucked all luxuriance from it and it would lie baking, sere and brown. The port itself was nothing grand. It could not compare to the fine harbours of Rhodes or Alexandria but, to Cadfael’s eye, possessed a more welcoming look than either. An old stone mole protected the anchorage and a number of blackened wooden jetties afforded a place for ships to tie up and unload. White limestone houses fringed the docks and climbed straggling up the hill behind where the pale, dusty road climbed away from the town. In the distance was a scattering of small villas, each with its vineyard. Samos lived by the wine trade. Samian vintages were highly prized in Byzantium and the other great cities of the empire. In truth,.
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