Why We Stay on the Bus — Even When the Odds Are Against Us

There’s a saying in our coaching circle: “Stay on the bus.”

It means don’t jump off when things get hard. Don’t panic when the scoreboard doesn’t look like you hoped. Don’t give up when the journey takes longer or looks different than you imagined.

This past Friday night, I saw that truth play out right in front of me.

We were facing one of the top five teams in the state — a huge matchup under the lights. The stands were packed, the energy was high, and the crowd was alive. The first few drives had everyone on their feet, cheering and believing.

And then… the tides turned.

With under five minutes left in the game, we were down by 20. The cheers quieted. The crowd thinned. That same buzz of excitement turned to murmurs of doubt.

But here’s the thing — the wives didn’t leave.

Instead of walking away, we got on our feet.
Instead of doubting, we prayed harder and yelled louder.

From the stands, we called out with everything we had — not just for the scoreboard, but for our boys’ hearts, their grit, and their fight. I prayed for our husbands, too — the ones who carry the weight of every decision, who have to think on their feet and lead with composure when everything feels like it’s slipping away.

Because that’s what they do — they press on, they believe, and they keep their team moving forward even when the fans think it’s over.

Because when you live this life — the life of a coach’s family — you know that no scoreboard defines the heart of a team. You know that sometimes, the biggest wins are born in the moments everyone else stops believing.

I looked around that night, watching the stands grow still, imagining my own husband up in the box — eyes locked in, analyzing plays, calculating every possible scenario. Us wives were in the stands doing the same thing, whispering prayers and holding our breath, because we know: anything can happen when faith meets fight.

And it did.

Those boys — those relentless, resilient kids — didn’t quit.
They fought back.
They recovered two onside kicks.
They scored three times in under four minutes.
And they walked away with one of the biggest wins I’ve ever witnessed.

It wasn’t luck. It was grit.
It was belief.
It was perseverance in its purest form.

For the fans who left early, you missed it — the miracle, the magic, the moment that proves why you stay on the bus.

Because being “on the bus” isn’t just about football. It’s about life.

It’s about the kind of loyalty that shows up even when things look bleak.
It’s about raising kids who understand that adversity doesn’t define you — how you respond to it does.
It’s about the wives who hold down the fort, the kids who carry the emotions of the season, and the coaches who keep believing even when the crowd stops cheering.

I tell my competitive daughter this all the time:
Just because someone looks like they’re ahead doesn’t mean they’ll finish stronger.
The true test of character isn’t how you handle winning — it’s how you handle the fight to get there.

If you want to be the best, train like it.
If you want to win, show up when it’s hard.
And if you believe in something — in your team, your people, your purpose — stay on the bus.

Because the journey is where the real growth happens.

As for me and my house, we’re on the bus for the long haul — grateful for the staff we love, the kids we believe in, and the lessons this game keeps teaching us.

Win or lose, this is so much bigger than football.
It’s faith.
It’s family.
It’s heart.
And it’s worth every mile of the ride.