G. A. Moore, Jr., the head football coach at Celina High School, exudes all the flash and sparkle of a dirt farmer. On Wednesday mornings he attends a five-thirty prayer meeting at a local youth center. On Thursday mornings he meets with the booster club for a five-thirty breakfast in the high school cafeteria, where he gives credit to everyone but himself. He regrets that during the season he sees little of Lois Ann, his wife of forty years, though it helps that she sometimes scouts games with him.
Yet the 62-year-old Moore is never more in his element than he is now, just minutes before the start of the 2001 season at the Fellowship of Christian Athletes Kickoff Classic in Bedford. His players kneel around him in concentric circles, holding hands without saying a word. He speaks in a voice that radiates authority yet manages to remain downright polite. He doesn’t trot out tales of past battles. He doesn’t invoke Lombardi. Instead, he asks the team members to bow their heads in silent prayer. “When this is through,” he says, standing before