Delvin Davis is a coach on his way to the Hall of Fame when an egregious coaching blunder costs him everything. Humiliated and running from haters, he’s exiled to a woebegone fishing town in Maine and relegated to coaching eight-man high school football with flimsy hopes of returning to the spotlight. Battling rival teams, a new nemesis, and his ruined reputation, Davis decides to make a run for the local high school principal’s heart. As Davis tries to turn the Spring Harbor Warriors into a winning team on the shoulders of his star quarterback, a girl named Lefty, he discovers that football may be secondary to the love of his life. Excerpt Six months after the game, Delvin Davis was still getting death threats. Standing on the side of Highway 118, just north of the Rio Grande, Davis had nowhere to go and no team to coach. Only minutes before, he had narrowly escaped a deranged Dallas fan hoping to put a bullet between his eyes. For an instant, Davis tried to wish the last six months away, as if it hadn't been. But it was real. As real as Abruzzi taking a knee and the stadium exploding in disbelief. Davis leaned against his silver Porsche and looked at the deserted road that stretched to the horizon. The summer heat was already starting to build, shimmering off the blacktop. He pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket and called Harvey Stringer, his agent, and the only person Davis had left. "Someone shot you?" Stringer asked moments later, his voice rising. "He didn't shoot me, but he was gonna, Harvey," Davis said, pacing back and forth in the furnace-like heat. "This is bad," Stringer said. "Has TMZ tracked you down?" “Not since yesterday.” Stringer went silent. Davis could almost hear him thinking, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like whatever came out of Stringer’s mouth. Davis stared out at the flat, parched landscape. Even with sunglasses, his eyes burned from the sun and a cruel hangover. He looked up and down the long stretch of road. Not a single car. Not even a truck. In the months after the Super Bowl, Davis figured the venom would fade, but with the start of training camps and a fresh Dallas Herald hit piece accusing Davis of drinking into the wee hours the night before the Super Bowl, the hate had resurfaced with intensity. "You gotta shoot me a lifeline, Harvey. I can't live my life running from haters.” "I hate to tell you, Delvin, but there's another problem," Stringer said. "What's that?" "Remember that guy who raced onto the field after the game?" The moments after the Super Bowl were even more of a blur for Davis. The stunned Dallas sideline. Barton McCourt, the team's owner, shaking his fist at Davis. Baltimore players jumping up and down, swarming Matt Sandler after his 26-yard chip shot. It was a coaching blunder so egregious that the State of Texas had made Davis enemy number one. Nearly six months later, Davis was still an outlaw. "There were a lot of people running on the field, Harvey." "The one you punched." "I don't remember that.” "It was on TV, Delvin. 100 million people saw you hit him in the mouth with your headset." "Aw, hell. I was being attacked." "It doesn't matter. You hit a fan." "So what?" "His attorney sent me a letter. They want money."