“I heard Coach Downs never started freshman," he told us. "Well that's not how it is with me. I play the best players, period. If you're a junior with three letters on your jacket, and you shave twice a day, and some smooth-faced freshman whips your ass in practice, then your collecting splinters while he's playing. Understood?Coach Carlson”

“Working in front of your mom it is like playing soccer in front of your coach”

“Sure, he had a wife and fifty-four kids, but he looked like a college freshman. A yummy college freshman majoring in Oh-my-god-I-gotta-get-me-some-of-that.”

“I’m not talking about them. We told you before, Smith, we wouldn’t play if her”—he pointed at Sissy—“or her”—he pointed at Ronnie—“were playing.” Mitch looked at her. “Uh…Sissy?” Sissy rounded on the coach. “I can’t believe you are still holding that against us. It’s been years!” “He was in traction for three months. A shifter! In traction!” “He was in my way!”

“You were wearing your hair up like that the day we left for Harbor Springs," he said, his deep voice pitched seductively low. "I like it.""In that case," Lauren said lightly, "I'll start wearing it down."He grinned. "So that's the way we're going to play it,is it?""Play what?""This little game we started yesterday.""I am not playing your game," she said with quiet firmness. "I do not want the prize.”

“He already knew he could coach. All you had to do was look at each of your players and ask yourself: What story does this guy wish someone would tell him about himself? And then you told the guy that story.”