The coach approved the postgame stop at the 7-Eleven, agreed to the purchase of the beer, even signed off on the conversion of his hotel room into a speakeasy for that beer’s consumption. And drink his players did, well into the Shenandoah night, spilling out into the hallway on account of their delegation’s high spirits and in spite of their low numbers—numbers that, as we’ll see, are part of this story.
Around midnight the commotion roused a hotel guest, a woman who confronted the presumptive adult in charge, who stood in that corridor wearing a T-shirt and black boxers.
“May I ask what you’re doing?”
