It was a hot mid-August day in 1979. School hadn’t started, but football had. Sweat trickled down my back as I struggled to make a no window, tiny, drab space come alive. The room remained dead, and I was dead tired.
Just as I was going out, I almost collided with the superintendent coming in. I’d met him once, and I had no desire in a sweat soaked shirt to meet him again.
“I’m glad I caught you. I was wondering if you’d run the scoreboard for the game on Friday.”…