Travis Starnes
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Second Down - Chapter 10
🕑 Added 2024-11-16 16:00:06 +0000 UTCTomorrow is game day, and Coach had okayed us to use a few audibles in the game. I hoped it wasn't needed, and Elijah wouldn't be an idiot and try to sabotage the team again, but I knew that was wishful thinking. I knew Elijah from our past and from our future in the dream, and he'd always been petty and overly concerned with being humiliated and made to feel less than he thought he should be.
Elijah didn't think about the future and never thought about the consequences of his actions. Only getting the respect he thought he was owed. It's why he kept ending up in trouble in high school and why he'd ended up in prison just before he headed off to college for getting into a fight and breaking his back to the point of paralyzing him. He'd done three years for assault and ruined his chances for ever playing ball again. All because the guy had disrespected him.
I wanted this life to be different than my dream one, with my family whole and happy and with me in the NFL, and I wasn't going to let someone like him get in the way of that. But I also couldn't be like Elijah. Stupid and short-sighted. I couldn't let him take me down with him.
I got into the locker room and started putting my stuff in the locker and was about to get changed for practice when Coach Heideman walked up to me and said, "Blake, come with me."
The way he said it, this wasn't a friendly visit. Not angry exactly, but serious in a way that had me wondering what I'd done wrong. Worse, we weren't headed to his office. He led me out of the fieldhouse and over to the school, toward the offices, which was... bad. He didn't say anything else as we walked, keeping a brisk pace through the halls while students rushed past us heading home.
We walked past the secretary without another word and into the vice principal's office.
"Have a seat and stay quiet," he said, moving to lean against the far wall.
The chair squeaked as I sat down. I'd been in here a lot of times... in my dream life. Everything about the office was exactly as I remembered from my dream life, the potted plant by the window, the framed diplomas, even the little ceramic apple paperweight. Back then, I'd been in this office plenty of times, usually for pulling stupid pranks, bullying other students. Mrs. Ford had watched me like a hawk those first two years, before I dropped out.
But this time was different. I hadn't done any of that stuff. No trips to stuff the mascot head with shaving cream. No beating up kids for standing up to me or stealing their shit because I thought everyone else would find it funny. No targeting the quiet kids just because I could. I'd been keeping my head down, focusing on football and actually trying in my classes.
So why was I here?
Coach was making it very clear from his body language that he wasn't going to tell me, arms crossed, staring at the desk, looking annoyed. I avoided looking at him, to keep him from glaring at me instead, looking at the floor tiles instead, counting the speckles. Anything to keep myself from fidgeting.
When the door finally opened and Vice Principal Ford stepped in, it was almost a relief. A brief one as Mr. Walsh walked in behind her. I don't know what his problem with athletes was, but he had one and he'd decided I was the focus of it.
"Thank you for coming, Mr. Sims," she said, circling around her desk and sitting in her chair while Mr. Alan stopped to stand next to it.
"Mr. Sims, do you remember signing the student handbook on the first day of school?" Mrs. Ford asked.
I wasn't sure what I'd expected her to say, but that wasn't it.
"Yes, ma'am."
"And do you remember that pledge including a commitment to academic integrity, which included not cheating on any schoolwork, tests, or quizzes?"
"I haven't cheated on anything."
"He absolutely…" Mr. Walsh said, before I could say anything.
Mrs. Ford held up her hand, cutting him off.
"I didn't ask if you cheated. I asked if you remembered that part of the handbook that you signed, saying you agreed to it."
"Yes, ma'am," I said.
"Good. There has been an allegation that you cheated on your recent quiz in science."
"That's a lie," I said, the words coming out before I could stop them. "I know Mr. Walsh doesn't like me, but…"
"Teaching students doesn't have anything to do with liking them or not, and none of our instructors would allow personal feelings to dictate how they give their instruction. And had Mr. Walsh not been where the allegations originated."
I looked to Mr. Walsh, who still looked a little furious at being cut off like he was, although he was glaring at me and not Mrs. Ford. It suggested he blamed me for it, like I'd done anything. That wasn't my only problem, although one I'd have to deal with eventually.
It wasn't hard to figure out where the accusation came from, if it didn't come from Mr. Walsh. Elijah hadn't had luck getting me kicked off the team by throwing last week's game, and had caught a fair amount of blame from it, so he'd switched to another tactic. He'd been smart to pick Mr. Walsh, although why Mr. Walsh would listen to another football player didn't make sense. Maybe he just saw a chance to deal a blow to one of us to feed whatever his hatred for us was, and he didn't care where the source started.
"Ma'am. There are some students who… they're upset with me because I wouldn't go along with some things they wanted to do. Are you really going to take this seriously without knowing the full story? Can I at least know who accused me?"
"No, that's against school policy," Mrs. Ford said. "And if it was just an accusation from another student, you wouldn't be in here. Mr. Walsh has expressed doubts about the grades you've been earning in your class. He believes it would be... unlikely for you to achieve such results without outside assistance."
"With all due respect, that's garbage," I said.
"What's garbage is you trying to get us to believe you would get the grades you've been getting without cheating. I've been teaching at this school for fifteen years. Never in my experience has an athlete in remedial classes received a perfect score on their first quiz and all of their assignments without outside assistance."
"Mr. Walsh …" Mrs. Ford started.
"I know this school worships football," he continued, "but I will not accept cheating in my classroom."
"Gail," Coach Heidemann said, looking from Mr. Walsh to her.
"Alan, please," Mrs. Ford said. "This is about a specific allegation, not your personal opinions about student athletes."
"And it's not true," I said. "I've been studying hard every day. Ask Mrs. Mace and Ms. White, they've both been giving me extra work to help me get on level and out of remedial classes. They can tell you I've been doing the work. They've seen my progress."
"Preposterous," Mr. Walsh scoffed. "I know what people like you…"
"That's enough," Mrs. Ford cut him off sharply. "I'll speak with your other teachers, Blake. I hope you're being truthful with me."
"I am," I said. "I made a promise to Ms. White that I'd do whatever it takes to graduate. Not just graduate, but do well enough to get into college without relying on a sports scholarship. Even though I want to play football in college, I don't want to bet on only it."
Mrs. Ford studied me for a long moment, clearly sizing me up. I looked back at her levelly, trying to show her I meant it.
"I hope that's true. You can go with Coach Heidemann now."
"I hope that's true. You can go with Coach Heidemann now."
"Let's go, Blake," Coach said quietly.
My stomach churned as we walked out. This wasn't over - not by a long shot. Mr. Walsh had decided I was everything he hated about student-athletes and Elijah was stepping things up. I didn't say anything though. I kept my mouth shut until we were back in the hallway.
"Don't worry about this," Coach said. "I know you've been putting in the work. The other teachers will back that up."
"It was Elijah. He told them I was cheating. He hates me now and he's trying to get me in trouble since he couldn't get me kicked off the team. This is what I was saying after last week's game."
"Focus on yourself," Coach said. "Don't worry about what other people are doing. If you're doing your best, it doesn't matter what other people do."
I didn't know if he was just trying to get me to shut up or what, but he really couldn't be naive enough to believe that. I wasn't.
This situation with Elijah was going to come to a head, whether I wanted it to or not. The question was just when - and how bad it would be when it did.
***
***
Thursday night we were back on the field for our second game, and I was feeling a little more ready for this one. While I felt good having the audibles in would help us out a little, I was still a little concerned with what Hunter was going to do. He’d been in on all the practices this week, of course, and knew that we’d been working on it, so he’d naturally have a plan for getting around it too.
I felt stupid not thinking about it until Wednesday’s practice, mostly spurred on by his reporting me for cheating, which was an annoying reminder that he wasn’t doing trying to get to me. I’d pulled the guys together after practice and we’d hung around the field, talking about how to deal with that. My idea had come up with the idea of a mid-play audible. It only worked on running plays, but if Jake blew his assignment again or Hunter was going to drop the ball, it gave me a chance to still make something happen. It relied on Miguel, mostly, keeping his situational awareness and knowing that I might still pass to him even though he was running a fake route, since he was the only one of us eligible to receive the ball on a pass.
It should be fine, as it would seem to the refs and the other team as a fake, although Coach Heidemann would definitely know the difference and probably be pissed. So I made it clear we wouldn’t do it until they started screwing around. If they played it straight, we’d play it straight. We practiced it for over an hour on Wednesday for Miguel to get the feeling, since he also had some blocking assignments should the run get that far, and he couldn’t screw that up if Elijah’s guys were playing it straight.
It was a risky move, and one we’d save just in case, but if we were going to lose the ball anyway, and maybe fumble it if a handoff went bad, it was worth a shot. Or at least, I wanted to be able to show up Elijah and make it very clear what they were doing.
Elijah and his group always did their warmups away from my friends, so I wasn’t that worried about them overhearing me, but I still kept my voice down as we stretched.
“We’ve got this,” I said. “We’re not going to let them screw us like last week. I know it’s not really fair on you Miguel, but you’ve got to be ready for it if they start messing around again.”
“I can handle it.”
“You really think they’ll try something?” Jamal asked. “Coach made it pretty clear in the pregame that he wanted everyone to stay on their assignments this time and not have any of the same mistakes from last week.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. Elijah isn’t done trying to make his moves to get at us. He’s a jackass, but he’s persistent. Just stick to what we worked on and I guess do your best.”
Except for a few dirty looks and a sneer or two from Elijah and his crowd, things were pretty calm pre-game, and coin toss. It wasn’t the best return we could have hoped for, stopping at the fifteen-yard line, but we got to have the first drive of the game, so I would take it.
I didn’t get any looks from Elijah and the rest, and there weren’t any of those meaningful little glances, so I took a shot that they were going to start off playing everything straight.
Or at least, I hoped they were.
As was coaches go-to, we started with a running play. I slapped the ball into Hunter’s hand after the snap and, thankfully, he pulled it in tight, not dropping it. He managed to find the hole and got seven yards. Not bad for a first drive.
“Nice work,” I said as we huddled again. “Let’s keep it rolling. Wing-T 31 on one.”
Another clean play. Five more yards. First down.
We marched methodically down the field, mixing runs and short passes. Even Jake and Elijah executed their assignments properly. By the time we reached the red zone, we had a good rhythm going.
Back in the huddle, coach had us run another running play, again to Hunter. Again, Hunter hit the hole hard behind his blockers and powered into the end zone for the touchdown. Compared to last week’s team, these guys had a really weak defense and were letting a lot more plays through than I would have thought we’d get.
Getting on the board on our first possession was certainly unexpected.
For the next little bit, neither team managed to get much movement, and we kept switching possession. We had made it almost to the end of the first quarter without any shenanigans from Elijah and the rest, and I had started to think maybe they had decided to play it straight, actually try to win football games.
Maybe that had been naive of me.
As we were lining up for the second down, I caught a look between Elijah and Jake and I just knew in the pit of my stomach, they were going to try and do something. The call that coach had made was a running play with a handoff to Jamal, which would be when they would try something, since the runner usually got the blame if something went bad.
I got set up to take the snap, keeping my attention on Jake, trying to read his body language and figure out when he was going to do it. I knew it had to be Jake because Elijah would be running a fake route to draw off defenders and get into a blocking position should Jamal break through, so Jake was the only one of their group in a position to screw us.
“Red 42! Hut! Hut!” I said, calling an audible that would shift our line over, assuming the defense was trying to line up on our weak side.
It was one of the few I had tried, and I could see coach on the sideline reacting, trying to figure out what the hell I was doing because if Jake didn’t try and throw it, it would kind of screw us on the actual run.
I was right, though. As soon as the ball snapped into my hands, Jake stepped aside, practically inviting the linebacker through, right where Jamal would be when I let the ball go. I kept the ball in my hands instead of putting it into his stomach, backing up two steps. Jamal figured out what I was doing and moved to block the linebacker Jake let through, giving me a second to find Miguel who was just cutting his route. I prayed he was paying attention as I let the ball fly.
The pass wasn’t pretty, but it got there. Miguel hauled it in before getting knocked down at the thirty-five. First down.
“Time out!” Coach Heidemann yelled, a bunch of the guys holding up the T-sign.
The ref blew his whistle and I hustled over to the sidelines, already knowing what was coming. Coach’s expression said it all.
“What exactly was that, Sims?” He said, grabbing my jersey and pulling me over next to him. “Because it sure wasn’t the play I called.”
“Jake missed his block, Coach. Jamal was going to get crushed in the backfield.”
“But you called that audible that wouldn’t have made the run fail either way. And changing to a pass was never part of that audible anyway. That was you freelancing mid-play.”
“I knew Jake was going to miss his block before the play started, and I wanted to pull the pressure off of Miguel by shifting the line so they would have to react. It worked.”
“I don’t care if it worked, I’m not going to have some cowboy shit out there when I call a play. What do you mean you knew Jake was going to miss his block before the play started?”
“You know what I mean, coach,” I said.
He had made it clear he didn’t want to hear me making any more direct accusations, so I left it at that.
“Blake, goddamn it…”
“I’m not accusing anyone of anything, coach, but I was right. Watch them, cause this isn’t going to be the only one of these. It’s going to cost us the game.”
“Just get back out there and run the plays I call. We clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
They played the remainder of the first quarter straight, not trying to screw anything up or throw the game. Elijah was too clever by half. He hadn’t given up and I knew he’d try again. They just knew coach was watching them, and didn’t want to be so obvious that they got caught.
Not that them playing it straight was a magic bullet that was going to make us win. The other team was still there and while their defense wasn’t the best, their offense was really good. We ended the half tied up at seven to seven.
During halftime, Coach ran through adjustments, focusing mainly on our defensive coverage to try and stop the progress they were making on offense. If Elijah had been all the way smart, he would have just focused on what coach was saying, but he couldn’t control himself. He kept looking at me and then exchanging glances with his buddies, giving little smirks.
He might as well have announced what he was going to do.
They got the kickoff to start the second half and managed to get to our thirty before turning the ball over on a poorly thrown pass that Gary Konrad managed to snag and pull in before being tackled himself.
As we lined up for our first drive of the half, the defense was showing blitz. I took the snap, dropped back, and looked to my reads. Miguel was covered pretty tight, so I went to Elijah, who managed to break free from his defender. He was wide open, a perfect opportunity. I released the ball, hitting him right in the hands.
And he dropped it. Just... let it fall.
The ball bounced harmlessly on the grass as Elijah jogged back to the huddle wearing that same smirk I’d seen at halftime.
“My bad,” he said as he walked into the huddle. “Lights got in my eyes.”
That was some bullshit. I hope that meant he was done with his tricks for a bit and would play the next down straight. We’d done a passing play, and the rotation Coach Heidemann had for us meant a running play this time.
“I-Right 21 on one,” I said, and we broke heading for the line.
The ball snapped into my hands and I stepped back, slapping the ball into Jamal’s stomach. Almost as soon as I did, Jake simply stepped aside, leaving a massive hole in our protection again. An Aldine linebacker burst through untouched, hitting Jamal only a few steps into his run. It was brutal.
The ball popped loose as Jamal crumpled to the ground. A lineman scooped it up and took off, trying to break through into open field. I managed to chase him down and drag him out of bounds before he could score, but that hardly mattered now.
Worse, Jamal wasn’t getting up.
He was curled on his side, gripping his leg, his face contorted in pain. I ran back to him immediately.
“Don’t move,” I said, waving frantically to our sideline. “Help’s coming.”
Our trainer jogged out with Coach Heidemann close behind. They knelt beside Jamal, asking him questions and examining his leg while I stood nearby, fury building in my chest. Elijah and Jake were standing off to the side, fucking laughing. They turned so that coach wouldn’t see them, but I saw them. They’d gotten a teammate hurt, and they thought it was fucking funny.
“You think this is funny?” I said, getting into Elijah’s face.
“What … no …” he stammered, looking past my shoulder.
“Blake!” Coach Heidemann said behind me. “Back off.”
“They mi…”
“Get off the field and make room for the defense,” he said, cutting me off.
It pissed me off. He had to see it, but he wasn’t doing anything about it. It was bullshit.
When they finally helped Jamal up, he couldn’t put any weight on his right leg. They had to practically carry him off the field.
When coach made it to the sidelines, I went to stand beside him.
“You saw that, right? Jake didn’t even try to block. And Elijah’s dropped pass? They’re doing it again.”
Coach’s expression darkened as he watched Jamal being helped to the bench.
“We’ll deal with this later,” he said.
Our defense managed to stop the drive, but they were already deep enough on our side of the field that they made the field goal easy, bringing the score to ten to seven.
For what felt like forever after that, neither team could break through. Every time we’d start getting momentum, something would go wrong. Elijah let another perfect pass slip through his fingers. Jake “missed” his block again, forcing me to throw the ball away. Hunter even got in on it, running straight into our own lineman instead of through the hole that opened up.
Even with their sabotage attempts, we actually moved the ball pretty well. Miguel and the guys who were actually trying made some good plays. We just couldn’t quite get into scoring range.
The clock kept ticking down in the fourth, and we were still trailing. Four minutes left, three minutes, two minutes. Still nothing.
With just under a minute remaining, we got the ball back at our own thirty. This was it, our last chance. There wasn’t time for us to get another drive.
We set up, and the defense was playing back, expecting us to pass. I didn’t call an audible to change it. I wanted the yardage, and I knew we could make it. As soon as the ball hit my hands, I saw Miguel breaking toward the sideline. The safety bit on Elijah’s underneath route, leaving Miguel one-on-one with the cornerback.
Miguel put a beautiful move on him, cutting inside then breaking deep. I let the ball fly, putting everything I had into it.
The pass arced high through the air, Miguel tracking it perfectly, catching it in full stride. He bolted down the sideline with only the safety trying to track him down.
The guy was fast, though, diving as Miguel got close to the goal line, catching his ankles at the two-yard line. Miguel went down hard but held onto the ball. The home crowd exploded.
Coach called a timeout to stop the clock.
As we huddled up on the sideline, the scoreboard showed five seconds left.
“Good pass, Blake,” he said, slapping me on the back as I got to the sidelines.
“Coach, we can make the drive. Let’s not tie it.”
“That’s the plan. I-Right 21. I don’t want any screw-ups this time,” he said, looking hard at Jake, who would cost us the game if he missed a block like he had been.
Jake nodded, withering under his glare. I could only hope it would work.
We broke the huddle and lined up. The defense was stacked tight, expecting a run. I got under Tyrell, trying to stay calm.
“Red 80! Set! Hut!”
The ball snapped into my hands. I turned and handed it to Hunter. The line surged forward, opening a small hole. Hunter hit it hard. For a moment, I thought he was going to score. Then the ball popped loose, seemingly in slow motion. It bounced once, twice.
A defender dove on it.
The referee blew his whistle. Game over.
I dropped to one knee, watching the other team celebrate. We’d lost ten to seven, and I knew exactly why. There hadn’t been another hand on the ball. Hunter had dropped it.
“Forde!” Coach Heidemann yelled as we all made our way off the field. “What the hell was that?”
Hunter opened his mouth, but Coach didn’t let him speak.
“No, don’t give me excuses. I watched you all game. That wasn’t your only screw-up tonight.”
I slowed my steps, turning to watch. Hunter blinked rapidly, his usual cockiness replaced by something closer to fear. Coach’s face had turned red, veins showing in his neck as he pointed at Hunter’s chest.
“You think I don’t see what’s happening? You think I’m blind?”
I couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto my face. Finally. Someone else was seeing it too.
Coach caught my expression and his anger shifted targets. “Something funny, Sims?”
“No, sir.”
“Then get your ass to the locker room. Now.”
I turned to go but spotted Elijah hanging back near the bench. The smart move would have been to keep walking, but I was tired of playing it smart. I changed course, heading straight for him.
“Looks like your little plan’s falling apart,” I said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Coach isn’t stupid. He’s figuring out what you guys are doing. Keep it up, and you’ll all be watching games from the bleachers.”
“Fuck you,” Elijah spat. “I don’t know what got up your ass, but I’m tired of you thinking you’re better than us.”
“All I’m doing is actually playing football instead of acting like a child.”
“You’re dead, Sims. You hear me? Fucking dead.”
I laughed, which only made his face redder.
As I walked away, Elijah shouted after me, “This isn’t over! You better watch your back!”
I didn’t turn around. He could threaten all he wanted, I had more important things to worry about. Like how we were going to win any games when half our team was actively trying to lose.
Comments
David Howe
Yer doin fine. And if you get stuck on football questions, I've gotta believe there are plenty of people willing to offer suggestions.
Phil
Don't get me wrong, you are doing fine. It flows well, portrays a level of excitement and keeps you engaged. It's also not the main point of the book. Keep those chapters coming!
Travis Starnes
Yep, already fixed. Not sure how I switched those up, but that was a mistake. And yea, I'm not sure the football stuff will get to his level. I'm not particularly a sports guy and the only sport I follow even a little bit is basketball.
Phil
Good scene. I think you want to change the sentence to say shifting the offense instead of shifting the defense. The sentence "calling an audible that would shift our defense over, assuming the defense was trying to line up on our weak side" doesn't work. - You are doing pretty well with the football game narration. I must confess that I think Greg Younger still has you beat, but you are getting very close. I am enjoying this very much.
