ALCOA — When John Reid first arrived at Alcoa High School three years ago, his program was a tough sell.

Tough because the work was tough. Practices were more physical; weight training was more furious. Workouts were just plain intense, and so was Reid.

"The kids were a little rebellious at first," Reid said. "They wanted to do it their way and still win."

Everyone but Dustin Lindsey.

As a sophomore, he was Reid's biggest ally in helping the players buy into the new system. Since then, the coach has done more than just buy into his star running back.

Reid is fully vested. Lindsey, too. They kind of have to be.

Lindsey lives downstairs.

Tough love Maybe more than anyone else, coaches are the best practitioners of tough love. As far as high school coaches go, Reid is tougher than most more demanding.

At Alcoa, the tough love started early.

With Lindsey, known as "Duck" by his teammates and coaches, it started on the second day of practice. The freshman skipped, and Reid took him to task. Miss again, and Lindsey was gone, star or not.

"You got reminders, or you're done," Reid said. "I don't think anyone had ever talked to him like that. I think that earned respect right there."

On the field it did, where the 6-foot-1, 225-pound Lindsey blossomed into a major college prospect and committed to the University of Tennessee in March. In the classroom, though, Lindsey was struggling.

His mother, Donna, did all she could. But because she works the third shift at a local hospital, she couldn't always be there to make sure her son was doing his homework and getting to bed on time.

As her son's grades slipped near the point of being ineligible, she asked Reid for help.

For 30 minutes every afternoon, Alcoa's football players sit in the downstairs cafeteria for a study hall, or study table as its known at the school. It was a start, but Lindsey needed more.

"Freshman and sophomore year, I really didn't do what I was supposed to do in the classroom," said Lindsey. "I got behind, and I was to the point where I was giving up. I wasn't going to play football anymore. My grades weren't going to let me play football anymore. It was to the point where I gave up hope on everything. I was staying up late, leaving the house when my mom went to sleep. It was like, 'Forget it.' "

Reid didn't let him. Neither did his mother.

Lindsey was a good kid, just one that need a little prodding. A kid who needed a good night's sleep instead of running around at night, and some extra motivation to do his school work.

"With Dustin, there was a need to watch him a little bit — not that he was out doing criminal acts or anything, but he just would not do his homework, put it off, so forth," Reid says. "Why did I do it with him? Because if I didn't, he wouldn't be on this team. He wouldn't have passed enough classes. That's bad for a team, and that's bad for Dustin. You take the whole idea and say, 'What do we need to do here?' "

When Lindsey didn't turn in an English paper early last fall, the plan was set in motion.

The senior was met by his coach in the principal's office, where Reid told him to pack his bags. He was going home with the coach.

"I was thinking, 'No I ain't. I can sweet-talk my momma,' " Lindsey said. "Then I heard him say he'd already talked to my mom."

No sweet-talking this time.

Hibernating Life at the Reid house is busy this time of year. There's basketball practice for Kiersten, a freshman at Alcoa, cheerleading practice for Kourtney at the middle school. Colton, a junior offensive lineman and linebacker, has football practice. So does Lindsey.

As far as helping Lindsey out, there were probably easier ways than making up a spare bedroom in his basement.

Easier, but maybe not the best.

"Any of these kids, we don't give up on them," Reid said. "Dustin just happened to fit in this situation. All these kids, we pick them up, put study groups together.

"We're in a world where a lot of these kids could be thrown aside. A lot of good is being done. Two-thirds of what we do isn't at practice."

That's certainly the case with Lindsey.

The afternoon study table carries over to the kitchen table at the Reids' house. School comes first, but it's not the only thing Lindsey does.

For one, he's a master sandwich architect.

"He thinks he can build a better sandwich than me," Reid quips. "I'll have mine eaten, and he'll still be building his."

"But mine looks better " Lindsey says with a wide smile.

Socks are at a premium. So are remote control batteries. Pranks are pulled.

"It's fun," Lindsey says. "I just wish you could come home and see what we do everyday. It's a comedy. It's like a sitcom. He's funny, I'm telling you."

But homework is done and grades are up. Cell phones are collected at 10:30 p.m. Lights out comes soon thereafter.

Improvements have been made, on the field and off.

"It's a blessing," Lindsey says. "I never really had someone sit me down and say, 'You've got to do this.' I've never had a male step to me that way."

"His grades have gotten better, but I think we could do better," Reid said. "He's played better football, I think. He's more rested for games.

"I think that he's grown to the fact that I trust him to make some good decisions. That's gotten better. I think he's gotten more comfortable."

Comfortable would be an understatement.

The arrangement hasn't been without out its struggles, but almost from day one, Lindsey took to his new surroundings.

When Reid's wife, Julie, sent her husband down to check on their new guest during the first night, the coach heard his running back's voice and had his answer.

"He's singing in the shower like a bird," Reid laughs. "It was happy singing, not good singing."

He watches games and wrestles with Colton in basement. His room is clean.

Football games are discussed and consumed. On Tuesday night, Colton and Lindsey (two of Alcoa's three starting linebackers) broke down film of tonight's opponent, CAK, with their coach.

But football is just a small part of it all.

"We've written a lot of term papers," Reid said. "We've been on the computer a lot more than we do football stuff."

Family tradition Colton Reid always wanted a brother. Last August, he got one.

Julie Reid got another son and another pile of laundry. Kiersten and Kourtney Reid got a new big brother.

"I've always wanted a brother," Colton said. "I've got one now. You always want a friend to stay with you, and he's there every night.

"If he needs help on homework, I'm there to help him out. It's been really fun."

In his cell phone, Lindsey has Colton labeled "brother." Ditto for Colton. It's how the two refer to each other in the hallways.

But Lindsey doesn't have a new family. He just has another family.

Sunday through Thursday, he's with Reids. But after a game, he goes home with his mother and comes back to the Reids after church on Sunday afternoon.

"Friday night, Saturdays, Sundays are me-and-mommy time," Lindsey said. "I look forward to the weekends. Two different sets of family is real neat, real neat. I've got my mom's people, my dad's people and Coach Reid's people. It's kind of a comforting feeling to know you've got that much family.

"Just a year and a half ago, they didn't know much about me or how I came up. All of a sudden, they've taken me in and love me like they love their own."

Reid stresses that Lindsey's situation is unique and that it works because the circumstances are right.

Reid housed a player before, in Fort Wayne, Ind., and he'd do it again. But just because Lindsey lives there doesn't mean he feels any differently about him than the other 70 players at Alcoa.

It's not different, but it's not the same, either.

"The way I try to approach it with 'Duck' is just to keep it as even keel as possible. He knows how I feel about him. Just because he stays at the house doesn't mean I don't feel the same way about Martin White or Brandon Warren," he says. "There's just a bond there that in the future, I think we'll hold even greater in the future. I'm sure everyone in our family has grown a love for 'Duck.' "

That, though, will be a problem next fall. Tennessee players receive a maximum of four tickets in the family section for each game. No doubt he'll have to solicit more from his teammates. Start to do the math, and it's not even close to fitting all of his family.

"I'm going to have a whole wing of the parents' section," Lindsey joked. "My own wing."

Or maybe, he'll just have to give back a little of that tough love.

Drew Edwards covers high school sports. He may be reached at 865-342-6274.