Travis Starnes
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Second Down - Chapter 30
🕑 Added 2025-01-14 14:00:04 +0000 UTCThe rest of homecoming went well. We all went to dinner, joked and had a good time, and I put the stuff with Kenneth out of my mind. Odds were, if she did have a thing for him, it was one sided. I mean, he was a senior. He wouldn't be chasing freshmen. And it wasn't like I didn't look at girls still, even though I was more or less with Melanie.
Hell, we hadn't even said what we were yet. It was just my insecurities getting to me. After knowing Brandy, who was the first girl I actually "dated" cheated on me, it was hard not to see that in Melanie.
The funny thing was, I knew I'd gone through this in my dream life. I knew worrying about shit like this didn't matter. If they were going to cheat, they were going to cheat, and no amount of worry would stop that, so it was better to just live my life. I could remember bad dates, getting cheated on, and even cheating on girls as I'd grown up.
The thing was, while I could remember all the things that happened, but I didn't really have any of the feelings associated with it. Which was maybe why, even though I'd gotten over it in my dream life, I still had to deal with how it made me feel now, second guessing myself, even knowing it was happening.
Maybe it was that thing where you can tell a kid the stove is hot, but he won't take it seriously until he touches it.
Or maybe I was just a wimp.
The evening had ended well. She had her gym bag still, so she switched back into her tennis shoes at the restaurant and we told Mickey we'd get home on our own. Honestly, I think Mickey was happy to ditch us. He might be my friend, but Hanna was all over him at the restaurant and I think he thought he had a shot with her, and didn't want a couple of freshmen spoiling it for him.
So we'd walked, holding hands the five blocks back to her house. She'd been in an amazing mood, which she showed me on the front porch when I'd "dropped her off." We didn't exactly do any hardcore making out, since her mom and neighbors could see us, but we were clearly past the first date peck thing.
Even better, there'd been no BS with Josh when I'd gotten home this time, so I got to go to sleep feeling just amazing.
Which was a good thing, because today was our homecoming game. Coach had still mostly run the previous week, but we did even more passing drills this week, so I really hoped he was planning on changing up the game plan a bit.
I went out to the field for warmups a little early because I was expecting Alex to be there. I knew Coach liked to be on the sidelines early, making sure everything was ready for the game, and wanted to ask him if Alex could come down on the field for a bit, but I'd been just a little slow. They were already there, way early, in the front row near the fifty yard line, when I got out to the field. Alex practically vibrating with excitement as he spotted me.
"Blake! Blake!" Alex yelled, waving frantically.
Eduardo grabbed his brother's shirt to keep him from tumbling over the railing.
I grinned and waved back, then jogged over to Coach Holloway, who indeed already on the field.
"Hey Coach, my friend's little brother's been dying to see the field up close. Mind if I bring him down for a minute before warmups start?"
Coach Holloway glanced up at the stands and grimaced in his normal way, but I could swear it softened slightly at Alex's obvious enthusiasm.
"Make it quick, Sims. I need you stretching in ten," he said, sounding as gruff as ever.
The man was committed to his persona.
"Yes sir, won't take long."
I headed toward the Guzmans. Eduardo's mom had her hands full trying to contain Alex's bouncing while Eduardo looked equal parts embarrassed and amused.
"Tranquilo, mijo!" Elena scolded gently as Alex as I got to them.
"Hey, Mrs. Guzman. Mind if I borrow Alex for a minute? Coach said I could show him around."
Elena's eyes crinkled warmly. "Of course, Blake."
I reached up and helped Alex climb carefully over the railing. His eyes went huge as he took in the field from ground level.
"It's so big!" he breathed, spinning in a slow circle.
"Pretty cool, right? Come on, I'll show you the best part."
I led him toward the nearest goalpost, watching his face as he craned his neck up at the towering yellow bars.
"Go ahead," I encouraged. "You can touch it."
Alex reached out reverently and placed his palm against the metal pole. "It's so much taller than on TV."
I just smiled while he explained the details of field goals and his favorite players. I could imagine his family weren't big football people. I knew Eduardo preferred soccer, even though he'd keep reminding me it was actual football and ours wasn't real football.
At least I had Alex on my side. I introduced him around to a few teammates who were arriving. Joe gave him a high five and Mickey let him throw the ball to him a few times. I knew they were doing it as a favor to me, but Mickey at least got into it. Alex's excitement was pretty infectious.
When Melanie and some of the other cheerleaders walked by, Alex went suddenly shy.
"Hi Blake!" she said, coming over to me. "Who's your friend?"
"This is Alex, Eduardo's little brother. Alex, this is Melanie, Hannah, and Emily."
"Hi Alex!" they chorused, making him duck his head and shuffle behind me.
"He's usually a lot more talkative," I said with a laugh.
"Oh sure, blame it on us. We'll see you out there, Blake. Nice meeting you, Alex!"
As they headed off to their warmup area, Alex peeked back out.
"They're pretty," he whispered.
"I agree," I said.
"Sims!" Coach Holloway yelled from across the field. "Time's up."
"That's my cue, buddy." I said, guiding Alex back toward the stands where Eduardo and his mom were waiting. "Up you go."
I lifted him over the railing, making sure Eduardo had a good grip before letting go. Alex immediately started chattering about everything he'd seen.
"...and Blake let me touch the goal post and I met the cheerleaders and…"
"Breathe, dummy," Eduardo laughed.
"Thank you, Blake," Elena said warmly after slapping Eduardo on the back of the head for calling his brother a dummy. "This means so much to him."
"Any time, Mrs. Guzman. Thanks for coming to support us." I gave Alex a final wave. "Cheer loud, okay? I'll be listening for you."
"I will!" Alex promised. "I'm gonna yell super loud every time you throw a touchdown!"
"Alex, inside voice," Elena reminded him, but she was smiling.
I jogged back to join my teammates for warmups, grinning. His enthusiasm was contagious and I couldn't wait to get out there and play.
I got to go out with Andre and Dale for the coin toss. While I had done them with the Freshman team, this was my first time out with JV. Dale was still captain and Andrew was co-captain, but I guess the coach decided I was doing a good enough job I could at least join them.
Monterey's QB was their captain and, from what I had seen in the videos we watched of them from last year, he had a hell of an arm. On top of that, there was the other person with him. Their center was a freaking mountain. He had to be at least two hundred and fifty pounds and made Andrew look small by comparison. He was going to give our defense some real trouble.
The ref held up the coin. "Monterey is the visiting team. Call it in the air."
"Heads," their QB said.
The coin spun and landed. "Tails. Wheaton, it's your call."
"We'll receive," Dale said.
The kickoff actually went pretty well, and we got it back to our thirty-two. And then it was running plays, as always. Joe managed to plow through for three yards for our first down. Not a ton of yards, but movement.
The next play was another handoff, this time Jerry broke through for six. Slow and steady marching down the field was Coach's game. Except, the defense obviously had their game. The defense was playing tight, clearly expecting what we were going to do.
At least on the next play, coach called a pass. But then coach calls a short pass on third down a lot, and their coverage was all over Mickey. Thankfully, Mickey knew his job and, after cutting across on a slant route, he turned back hard, losing his defender for a second and giving me the opening I needed. I drilled him for an eight yard gain, and he held onto the ball as he was hammered into the ground right after he caught it.
It wasn't pretty, but it was a first down.
The drive continued that way, just grinding it out. We made it all the way to their seventeen before things stalled out.
Coach called another passing play on third down, and Mickey couldn't shake them this time. I dumped the ball onto the ground, in front of Mickey to set us up for a field goal. Gerald split the uprights, and we took the lead at 3 – 0.
Gerald's kickoff was great, and our special teams pinned them deep, but it didn't matter. Their quarterback came out firing, picking apart our secondary with these amazing passes. Seven plays later, they were in the end zone with their first score of the night.
The next few drives were rough. They had our number, stacking the box against the run, then dropping into coverage when we tried to pass. I tried a few audibles to try and shift things around, but none of it was working. We were just too predictable, going to the same plays over and over.
Coach kept calling runs, trying to establish something, anything. Four yards here, five there. But it wasn't enough.
"They know exactly what we're doing," I said to Mickey as we headed for the huddle after another incomplete pass.
"No shit," he said, sounding as frustrated as I felt.
Sure enough, they stuffed Jerry for a two yard gain, forcing us to punt.
Things were very different for the other side of the field. Their offense was a machine, mixing runs with these long passes that our defense just couldn't seem to counter. Not all of them were perfect, of course, but next to how little ground we were gaining, they made us look like chumps. It didn't help that our defense was gassed from being on the field so long. By early in the second quarter, it was 14 to 3. The next drive was even more frustrating. Two yards. Four yards. Two yards. One yard. Coach called timeout and tried to half pep talk us, half bully us into making something happen, but nothing changed. How could it? We kept playing the same plays over and over.
We couldn't move the ball.
Montgomery kept on rolling. On their next drive, they only needed six plays to put us at 21 – 3.
We got the ball back with just over two minutes in the half. Part of me hoped coach would let us do something different. We had passing plays in the damn book, we'd even practiced them. Why wouldn't he let us run it.
But nope. Handoff for one yard. Handoff for three yards.
Their final drive of the half, with less than a minute left on the clock, was just salt in the wound. They marched down and kicked a field goal to make it 24 – 3.
As we headed to the locker room, I couldn't help but feel frustrated. We were better than this. But being predictable was killing us. Their defense knew exactly what was coming on every play.
It was like this every freaking game, even the ones we won. And I was getting tired of it. As we headed toward the fieldhouse, I caught up to Coach Holloway near the entrance.
"Coach, we need to change things up. They've got our playbook figured out."
Coach Holloway's face tightened. "Blake, we've been over this. We're not going to…"
"He's right, Scott." Coach Easley, our offensive corrdinator, said, coming up to us, clipboard tucked under his arm. "They're calling our plays before we run them."
"We stick to what works," Coach Holloway said.
I know I should let Coach Easley try and talk some sense into him, but it was so damn frustrating how pigheaded he was.
"Except it isn't working. I don't mean any disrespect, but it's frustrating as hell to keep running into their teeth, and having to punt the ball. We're predictable. Look at their offense. Long passes, short passes, runs. They're making it hard as hell for our guys to set up against them."
Coach Holloway looked furious and said, "Get in the locker room, Sims."
Great, all that and the only thing I'd managed was getting in the doghouse with him. You'd think he'd want a quarterback who actually wanted to win. I went inside and dropped onto the bench next to Mickey.
"What'd he say?" Mickey asked.
"Nothing useful."
Mickey grunted. I guess they appreciated that I was the one putting my neck out there, since we all wanted the same thing. But I'd rather win than just their appreciation.
Coach Holloway's halftime speech was all about execution and effort, completely ignoring our actual problems. The guys looked defeated.
As we headed back out for the second half, I grabbed Mickey's arm.
"Hold up. Get the others."
Mickey nodded, corralling Jerry, Joe, and the rest of our offensive backfield into a small group just inside the locker room.
"Don't look like we're just counting minutes," I said. "We're not done yet."
"Come on, Blake," Jerry said. "They're up by twenty-one. We're cooked."
"Only if we give up," I said. "That's the only way we actually lose, if we quit trying."
"But Coach won't…" Dwight started.
"Forget what Coach won't do. Think about what we can do. We turned this season around and we've been winning games. Playing his playbook. Every other team's known we're going to run the ball, and we still made it work. We can do it again."
"Blake!" Coach Holloway yelled from outside. "What are you doing? Get out here!"
I couldn't tell if the guys were buying into it or not, but I wasn't ready to throw in the towel yet.
Thankfully, our defense managed to finally hold them on the first drive. I wasn't sure the team could recover if they just came out and scored again the second they took the field.
Coach had called another run play, but I'd had enough of that garbage. He might pull me and put Jorden back in, but I didn't care.
"Right Slot, Thirty-two slant," I said as we walked out onto the field.
"But coach said…" Mickey started and Dale cut him off.
"You heard the call. Run it."
I gave him a slight nod and he gave me a look like, it was my funeral. Coach would know I'd ignored him and called my own play, and it wasn't like I was going to throw my guys under the bus for my decision. I hoped Dale knew that and was glad he backed me up.
The snap came back clean and Mickey took off. He didn't break for his slant until ten yards out, going at an angle but still heading downfield. When he did, his coverage turned back toward our line, I guess thinking he was going to keep it under ten yards, since that was what Coach always did. The guy actually slid and hit dirt as he tried to stop his momentum and get going back the right way.
It had them looking like idiots and Mickey all alone. Mickey broke hard inside on his route, and I hit him in stride. He turned it upfield for eight more yards before their safety brought him down.
"Hell, yeah!" Jerry whooped as we hustled to the line.
Another run signal came in. Another run play. Coach's eyes were trying to burn a hole through me as he watched me walk to the huddle. This time I sent Dwight deep. The safety crept up again but kept looking over at Mickey, I guess afraid we'd try it again. Dwight blew past his corner and was just hauling ass. Their guy took off after him, but he was a step slow, again seeming to expect Dwight to cut back for a shorter pass. I dropped it right over his shoulder for thirty-three yards.
Coach was losing his mind on the sideline, but I didn't care. We were finally moving the ball.
From their thirty-seven, I changed the next play to a post route, back to Mickey this time. He burned his coverage again, but this time their safety seemed beside himself since I also sent Dwight hauling ass out again. He'd decided to position himself to stop Dwight. I hit Mickey all alone and he was gone, all the way to the end zone.
"That's what I'm talking about!" Mickey yelled, spiking the ball.
"What the hell are you thinking," Coach screamed as I got to the sidelines while our kicker put up the extra point.
"Winning."
"You will call the plays I give you," he said.
"Then bench me. Coach, if you're too stubborn to actually win games, send me back to the freshman team. I'm not trying to disrespect you, and I'm not trying to be difficult, but do you see them? That was only possible because they were positive … positive … that we were just going to keep trying to march the ball down the field. Their offense is tearing us apart. The only way we come out of this game without being blown out is to stop being so damn predictable."
"Get out of my sight," he said, turning back to the field as the defense set up.
I honestly didn't know if that meant I was done and Jorden was going on or if that just meant get away from him for right now, but I chose the latter and tried to disappear into a group of the offensive line.
Coach Easley slapped me on the shoulder as he walked by and gave me a small smile, which I hoped meant he had my back. He went and stood next to Coach Holloway while Monterey showed that I was right. They tore through our defense, putting up another touchdown, putting us at 31–10.
The entire time, Coach Easley was in his ear. I could see Holloway's jaw working the entire time, and he was clearly pissed, but maybe Coach Easley would have a better chance than I did.
And apparently he did because the first play coach called was a long slant. Again, we caught the defense napping, and Mickey picked up fourteen yards. I could see them scrambling on the sidelines, and I knew their coach was trying to change his playbook for the game on the fly, so we couldn't keep this up forever, but for now, it was working. Three more passes and a run, just to keep things interesting, I guess, and we were back in the end zone. 31 to 17. .
Still a long way from winning, but we were now actually playing some damn football.
Suddenly coming back seems to also have knocked a little wind out of their sails, as their next drive stalled out and they had to punt.
The next play coach called was a running play, and I went with it. He was calling some passes and I wanted to see what he was going to do, plus, the defense was starting to pull back to keep better coverage on our passers, so there was a good chance coach was hoping to keep them off balance.
Also, there was probably a limited number of times I could directly defy the coach before he benched my ass.
It was the right call. I handed it off to Joe and they did not bum rush him this time, allowing him to pick up eight yards. Part of me worried coach would go back to just running after that work, but the next play he called for me to pass again. This time it was an out pattern to Mickey, which picked up another twenty-nine for us, followed by eleven more on a quick out to Miles, putting us within nine of the goal line. I threw a short pass to Dale, who we honestly didn't throw to that often, which got us into the end zone and put us at 31 – 24. after the extra point.
The momentum had shifted and Monterey's offense had slowed down a touch, but they weren't out of it yet, as their quarterback led them right back down the field for another touchdown, extending their lead to 38 – 24.
We were really cooking now, though. A touchback put us at our twenty again, and everyone was fired up. Eighteen yards to Mickey. Seven on the ground to Jerry. Twelve more through the air. Joe rumbled for eighteen. Twenty-two to Mickey. Then Miles punched it in from the three.
We were still 38 – 31 after the extra point, but I felt like we could do no wrong, and the crowd was right there with me. They were going absolutely nuts as we fought our way back from what had seemed like a certain loss.
Monterey's next drive ate up clock but ended with a field goal for 41 – 31. Their quarterback must have been getting tired because he had three incompletes in that drive, the most in a single drive so far.
Our sidelines were already celebrating the missed field goal, but I wasn't in the mood to start partying. We were far from done, still down by ten. A minute earlier, we’d put ourselves within striking distance, and there was still time on the clock if we could stay focused and make drives fast. We didn't have time for grinding out yardage.
Not if we wanted to win.
On the first down, Miles slid around me as I took the snap and I turned, slamming the ball into his gut. He barreled into the opposing line to the a little left off the middle. He had a good eye and saw an opening and went for it, breaking through for six yards before they wrestled him to the ground.
A decent start, but we needed bigger plays.
On second down, we had another pass play. Micky ran a slant, planted, and cut inside just as I let the ball fly. He grabbed it and managed to push past the corner for a few extra yards before he got taken down.
Another first down.
We were now at the forty, and coach called another pass. I guess their defense had had enough, because as soon as I snapped the ball, they all out blitzed and the pocket started to collapse on top of me.
There wasn't time to go through my reads, and I just kind of let instinct take over. I pulled the ball in, ducked left, and angled toward open space along the numbers. One linebacker lunged for my legs, but I twisted away and took off. I sprinted well past midfield before they brought me down. Standing up, I felt good about myself until I looked at our sidelines and saw Coach scowling at me.
I knew he wasn't a fan of my scrambling, but it was that or get taken down for a loss.
My way worked.
We hurried up to their forty-five, and the next signal was a simple inside run to Jerry. I handed it off, and he surged into a small hole near the left tackle. He pushed for eight yards, which was just enough to keep the chains moving.
At second and two on the Monterey thirty-seven, the sign came for a short pass to Miles. Through the first half, these passes had mostly connected, but the receiver had been pulled down almost instantly, and we'd picked up next to no yards. This time, things went a little different.
I fired a short bullet, and he wasn't instantly pulled down. The one defender with him tried to wrap him up, but he managed to juke to the right and lose him, running down field to the twenty-five before they finally caught up to him and pulled him down. They couldn't just keep guessing our plays, and it was giving us a lot more options.
And another fresh set of downs.
We were back to running after that. Joe took the ball and followed Elton's block, shedding an arm tackle to cross the fifteen, then stumbled forward for a couple more yards. We ended up around the twelve, first down again.
We were really moving.
Coach had signaled another short pass, but Mickey didn't run his route right. Instead of cutting at the ten, just short of the goal line, he slanted toward the goal line, but he got bumped by their safety. I hesitated, almost changed targets mid-throw, but the corner was drifting to Dwight. Mickey pulled free, and I lobbed it right in front of him. Touchdown.
The extra point put us within a field goal of tying the game, 41 – 38.
They opened with a run up the middle for two. Our line seemed to be adjusting, but that quarterback of theirs was dangerous. We had them to fourth down on one of the plays, and they decided to go for it instead of punting. The guy managed to toss a screen that squeaked out four yards, just enough for them to keep hope alive if they wanted to push it.
That was enough to get them going, and five plays later, including a hell of a long pass that thankfully our safety managed to just stop, still ended up marching into the end zone, pulling their lead back up to 48 – 38.
We managed to score again on the next drive to again put us within three, 48 – 45. I thought we were going to end up just trading touchdowns after each drive as they pushed a killer set of drives downfield, getting just under thirty yards away from the goal on a fourth down.
They chose to go for the field goal, to widen the lead a little bit, and we all held our breath as the kicker lined up and sent the ball sailing toward the goal. From my vantage point, it looked like it was going to go in, sailing just inside the left goal post, but either my angle was bad or we got a very lucky gust of wind, because it banged off the yellow painted metal and careened outside.
No good. We were still in this, although the clock was getting dangerously low.
Our next drive almost took the wind out of our sails as both Mickey and Miles dropped passes. To be fair, the one to Miles, I was pushing it a little bit, and trying to get it just out of the reach of his coverage, and he could only get his fingertips onto it, but the one to Mickey was in his freaking hands.
I shook it off. Not every play was going to go perfectly. Even guys in the NFL dropped passes.
Although we didn't have time for this, since we ended up having to punt, which just ate up clock. We were so close, I didn't want to lose by a field goal.
Not after this comeback.
They could see it, too. They started eating up clock, letting snaps take as long as possible and doing everything they could to keep the clock from stopping.
When their drive ended and they punted, we only had fifty seconds left on the clock.
This was probably going to be our last drive. It had to count.
"Alright, let's go!" I yelled, clapping my hands together. "Fifty seconds, plenty of time! Whatever you do, get out of bounds or call a timeout. Stop the clock!"
We hustled onto the field, the crowd roaring. Everyone, on both sides of the field, were on their feet.
It had become a serious ball game and everyone knew this was it.
Mickey took off on a slant route as soon as the ball was snapped. Both teams had really been moving the last two quarters and their defense was slowing, either from being on the field so much or because they could feel the game slipping away from them.
Either way, it was helping us and Mickey's coverage was a half-step slow. I saw the opening and fired the ball right as Mickey made his cut. He snagged it cleanly and turned upfield, managing to get to the sideline before their safety could close in.
Coach signaled for a hurry-up offense and we sprinted to the line of scrimmage. They hadn't expected it at all, and the defense was still getting set when I snapped the ball.
Miles broke straight up the seam between their linebacker and safety. I pump-faked toward Mickey on the outside, pulling the safety a step that direction, then threaded the needle to Miles for fifteen yards.
He was too far from the sidelines, so I started signaling for a timeout as soon as he was down. Thankfully the ref saw me.
We huddled up on the sideline, everyone breathing hard and smiling like idiots.
"Listen up," Coach said, actually looking excited for once. "We've got one more timeout and forty seconds. That's plenty of time if we're smart. Blake, you've got the hot read if they blitz. Otherwise, work through your progression."
I nodded, trying to catch my breath. It had been a long night already and it felt like we hadn't stopped running since this drive started.
Mickey gave me a quick fist bump as we headed back out.
On the next play, the snap was clean, but Monterey's defense had adjusted during the timeout. Their coverage was really tight, and I couldn't find an opening. I tried to force it to Mickey but the ball sailed high.
"Shake it off!" Coach Easley yelled from the sideline. "Next play!"
I didn't need it. I was in the zone as much as I'd ever been.
Jerry lined up in the backfield on the next snap. Their linebacker showed blitz, so I knew he'd be open in the flat. As soon as the ball hit my hands, I flicked it out to him. He turned upfield, juking past one defender and breaking another tackle. When they finally dragged him down, he'd picked up twenty-two yards.
As soon as Jerry was down, I started calling for a timeout. It was our last one, but the time was getting short and we couldn't risk the clock running while we got set.
Coach Holloway didn't have a lot to say to us. The playbook was still the same. Keep it moving, stop the clock. We couldn't mess with running plays though, not until we were at the goal line, and I worried Monterey knew it. One run stopped short, and we'd eat up the clock getting reset. It was too risky hoping they'd get out of bounds and he had no more timeouts.
We had twenty-three yards to go.
The next play was supposed to be a quick out to Miles, but their coverage was perfect. I had to throw it away to avoid the sack.
"Twenty seconds!" Someone yelled from the sideline.
This was it. Third down, twenty-three yards out, and twenty seconds. Either we made this, or we kicked a field goal and tied it up.
I wasn't going to settle for a tie.
The play call was for Mickey to run a corner route, but I saw their safety cheating over to his side pre-snap. We'd gone to Mickey too many times.
"Blue 80! Blue 80! Set... hut!"
The ball hit my hands and I dropped back, watching the coverage develop. Mickey broke toward the corner, drawing both defenders. They knew I threw to Mickey more than Dwight, and I guess they thought under pressure habit would take over.
But I saw him. He was angling toward the back corner of the end zone, while their defense was focused on Mickey. Dwight only had his own coverage on him.
We could make this happen.
I let it fly, arcing it just beyond the defender, to where only Dwight could get to it. The ball seemed to hang in the air forever as Dwight sprinted under it. He leaped, extending fully, and pulled it in. His defender hit him just on the goal line, knocking him out of bounds.
The rest of the players basically stopped moving, looking for the call. Did his foot touch the ground before he was hit? Did the ball cross the goal line?
The referee's arms went up. Touchdown.
The sideline erupted. Mickey jumped on my back as we ran off the field, and we were all screaming like banshees.
"Did you see that safety bite on Mickey's route?" Coach Easley asked, slapping me on the shoulder.
These guys never stopped coaching.
"That's exactly why I threw it to Dwight," I said, still trying to catch my breath. "Knew they'd be watching for Mickey after the last few plays."
Gerald nailed the extra point, putting us up 52 – 48. Fifteen seconds were left on the clock. Unless something went very right for Monterey, we'd just won this game!
The kickoff went through the end zone for a touchback. They were going to try and get something to break, a long pass and a crazy run to get a hail mary touchdown.
They did just that, with their receiver catching a deep pass. Our safety was on him though, wrapping him up and falling over backward, pulling the receiver with him, away from the sidelines.
Monterey was forced to burn their last timeout to stop the clock.
"Watch for the hook and ladder!" Coach yelled as we lined up.
Sure enough, their tight end caught a short pass and immediately tried to pitch it back to their running back who was trailing the play. Their tight end was hit by our safety and the ball hit the ground and bounced crazily as players from both teams dove for it.
Players piled on, with what seemed like everyone on the field from both teams trying to jump on the loose ball. Meanwhile, the clock ran out. 00:00!
The stadium went crazy!
We'd won. We'd freaking won!
Comments
David Howe
I wonder, if he's disciplined by, say, having to run extra laps, whether his teammates would voluntarily join them. Likely, if you'd asked them before the second half if they'd run an extra five laps a day for a week to get a come from 18 points behind win, they would've said yes.
Chester Goetzinger
Will really be interesting to read how the coach deals with this QB. Disobedient but successful. Have to discipline in some way.
David Howe
Damnit, sorry. One more thought: Is our hero going to coach up his teammates? They're going to be crowing and full of themselves, but there was at least one drop and one route run incorrectly. What was it Tom Brady always said? There's always room for improvement.
David Howe
lol, I guess we'll see!
David Howe
Sorry, messed up my adding a new line. To continue: What's the coach going to say to his qb after the game, or at the next practice? Would love to be a fly on the wall for any private conversations. And that doesn't even get into the reactions of teammates, friends, potential gf's, etc. Nuff said, sorry for talking yer ears off.
David Howe
Thinking about it more... 7 touchdowns in one half, for JV. That's gotta be a record, if not for the state, then at least for the school. 3 clearly passing, 2 clearly rushing and 2 unknown. Assume they're passing TD's. That's 5 in one half, again for JV. Imagine the conversation the coach as with his opposite number in the handshake line. Being congratulated on his "brilliant coaching," and humbly accepting it, and maybe even believing it (I mean seriously, his thinking his running attack was "working" when they had a grand total of 3 points in the first half? The guy's already shown he's delusional).
Darryl Graney
Do we now have a happy pissed off coach?
Brett Grayson
Great football action chapter.
David Howe
I love positive chapters. :)
