The Virtues and the Sins of High-School Football

In 2012, Sports Illustrated published a feature about an intriguing new phenomenon: a high-school football powerhouse that was not, strictly speaking, a high school. The Eastern Christian Honey Badgers, as the team was known, called Elkton, Maryland, their home. They lifted weights at a Y.M.C.A. and practiced on an unmarked field and took online classes through an organization called National Connections Academy—“an approved nontraditional course provider,” in the eyes of prospective colleges. The driving force behind the Honey Badgers was the father of the starting quarterback, naturally. He developed real estate in Delaware. The kid was something of a prodigy. But Delaware is no Texas, and, rather than uproot the family in search of better local competition, the father recruited a supporting cast from several surrounding states, with the idea that they could tour nationally—their first game was in South Carolina. He even adopted one of his son’s teammates, a dreadlocked defensive back and wide receiver whose luck was especially hard: a mother, a brother, and a grandfather all lost in short order. Eastern Christian leaned into the mission of football as a vessel for social uplift. “We’ll never put athletics before academics,” the Q.B.’s father said. “But we’ll probably come closer than most.” Anticipating inevitable skepticism, he added, “If we’re telling the truth, that we just want to help these kids, we’re virtuous. If we’re lying, we’re the most evil people in America. So it comes down to this: Do you believe us?”