The fading summer delivered on all of its promises, about there being no more teenagers to text because none of them ever actually answer the phone anymore, about there being no more creeping dread over the way his footballers navigate the black forest of social media, about no longer giving a rat’s dupa what parents might be tweeting about him or his coaching staff.

“I’m old school,” George Novak said from across a table in the bar at Duke’s in Homestead. “I want to relax; I don’t want to get involved in people saying stuff on Twitter. They’re brave on the Twitter and on the phone; they can say anything they want.

“It was time. I’m 67.”

In the summertime, the whole “Who needs that?!” sentiment was a decidedly rhetorical question, but seasons change, winter into spring, spring into summer, and in Western Pennsylvania, summer into football.

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