Travis Starnes
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Second Down - Chapter 7
🕑 Added 2024-11-02 14:00:03 +0000 UTCEveryone was nervous and amped up as we suited up in the locker room. Our fieldhouse was behind one of the goal lines in an older style building, but we could already hear the noise of the crowd outside.
We were all freshmen, being the freshman team, so even though most of us had been playing for years, there was a big difference between middle school ball and high school, as far as attendance. In Texas, football was king and high school games could pull huge crowds. The varsity games emptied most of the town on Friday or Saturday nights as everyone piled into the stadium. Even for away games we’d form these long convoys of parents, friends, family, and just fans, following the school team to whatever town we were playing against. My dad and I had been to a lot of varsity games over the years and had even been in some of those long convoys.
Things weren’t quite that serious for the freshman team, but the stadium still filled out a lot more than I, or anyone else on the team, ever experienced.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous.
I was also supposed to be a leader on the team, and I wasn’t the only one nervous. Miguel looked like he was going to puke.
“Hey.” I nudged him. “You got this.”
“First game, you know? What if I mess up?”
“Then you mess up. But you won’t. Just like practice, right?”
“Right.” Miguel managed a small smile. “Thanks, Blake.”
I slapped him on the arm again and tried to give him a ‘this is no big deal’ kind of smile.
That was made harder by Elijah sitting a few spaces down at the other section of lockers mad-dogging me the whole time. We hadn’t had any more shenanigans at practice after Monday because the coaches had been calling out hard hits more, but Elijah and the rest had been becoming more … passive-aggressive.
For a second, it looked like he was going to come over and say something, start something, but the coach came out of his office.
“Listen up, gentlemen. Monterey’s going to come at us hard. This is our first game and everyone on the other side of the field is our freshman too, so they’re going to be looking to prove something. They’re a good program, but not something we can’t beat. Play smart, trust each other, and remember, it’s not just about individual glory. We win as a team. Let’s get going.”
I was still feeling the nerves as we jogged out of the fieldhouse. Our cheerleaders were lined up in the endzone closest to the fieldhouse, holding a massive paper banner painted in black and gold with a mustang painted on it. I’d seen this done in the football games I’d gone to, but I’d assumed that was only something they did for varsity. I didn’t remember them doing it for my freshman games from my dreams, but I hadn’t played in the first one and had been in kind of a funk, so I wasn’t really paying attention. I was pretty sure this was only because it was our first game, and they wouldn’t do it for any of the others because I would have noticed that from my dream, but it still felt good to have that.
Monterey High players were already on their sideline, having come out first as the visitors, but I ignored them. When we saw the banners, we all started yelling and took off for the paper banner. I’d been out first and I put some extra speed into my run, mostly because I wanted to be the first one through. Tearing through that banner and running through the line of cheerleaders for the first time was exhilarating.
As I jogged to our sidelines, I looked up into the stands. Dad said he was coming, and even where he was planning on sitting, but I still had a moment of worry. I guess I’d spent too long in my dream life, that every time I looked for him, I expected him to be gone.
He was there though, sitting up front at the fifty-yard line, wearing a Mustangs cap I didn’t even know he had. He’d switched shifts with one of the other deputies so he could be here for my first game. When he spotted me looking, he raised his hand in a wave, grinning broadly. I waved back, grinning just as big.
“Sims!” Coach Heidemann called. “You’re up for the coin toss.”
I jogged toward midfield, where the officials waited with the opposing team’s quarterback. Coach said we didn’t do team captains on the freshman team, and he’d be rotating players through the coin toss throughout the season.
Sadly, my first time didn’t go well, as it landed on tails, which was the other team’s pick, giving them the first possession.
Monterey’s kick returner caught the ball at their two-yard line and took off like he had something to prove, managing to slip through coverage before one of our guys wrapped them up at the thirty-five. Not a great start for us.
Their offense was good, or at least good against our defense, managing to move the ball in steady chunks. They ran a few short plays, grinding out yardage. Finally, on third and long, Julius broke through their line and sacked their quarterback, forcing them to punt.
I pulled my helmet on as we ran onto the field, feeling the nerves as I was about to take my first snap in a high school game. I could remember, and even kind of feel, all of those snaps I took in my dream, for the two years I played, but that was kind of fuzzy. This was the real thing and I pushed the nerves down and tried to focus as I got to the huddle.
We lined up and I got behind Tyrell just like at practice.
“Red Forty-three! Hut! Hut!”
The ball snapped into my hands, and I spun, thrusting it into Hunter’s gut. He secured it and charged forward, blasting through the hole that Tyrell and Connor opened up. One of their linebackers filled the gap, but Hunter lowered his shoulder and powered through the hit, stumbling but keeping his feet. He churned forward, fighting for every inch before their safety dragged him down after a solid eight-yard gain.
Not quite enough for a first down, but forward momentum. Coach Heidemann had made it clear he preferred a running game on the freshman team, as it was less likely to cause turnovers and pick up yards. He said he would get me some passing plays, but even those would focus on short passes picking up yardage instead of big plays.
“Nice run!” I slapped Hunter on the helmet as we jogged back to the huddle.
He shrugged me off. I just shook my head. They couldn’t drop it, even when it was in their best interest for everyone to get along.
Monterey’s defense stiffened after that, and we ended up having to punt a few plays later. The rest of the first quarter was a back-and-forth battle, both of us trading possessions as we each tried to find a rhythm.
Late in the quarter, Monterey started to put a drive together. They mixed runs and short passes, playing almost exactly the playbook that Coach Heidemann liked, marching down the field despite our defense’s best efforts. As the clock ticked down, they punched it in from the two-yard line, their fullback diving over the top for the score. The extra point sailed through the uprights, and just like that, we were down seven to zero.
I tried not to let it get to me as we headed to the sidelines for the break between quarters.
“Plenty of time left,” I said to my guys, who were looking a little grim. “We’ll get ‘em back.”
Coach Heidemann seemed to agree. “Good effort out there, boys. We’re right in this. Blake, I want to open it up a bit this quarter. Their safeties are cheating up.”
Early in the second, we finally got a break. It was second down and I was back behind Tyrell, ready to get the snap.
“Blue eightyyy!” I called. “Blue eighty! Hut! Hut! Hut!”
The ball slapped into my hands and I took a step back, faking a handoff to Hunter as best I could, watching as the Monterey defense bit on it hard, expecting another run. Instead, I pulled the ball back and stepped up into the pocket, looking downfield.
Miguel was my first read, and he was sprinting downfield, several steps ahead of his man. I planted my feet and let it fly. The ball spiraled clean, and for a second, time seemed to slow. Miguel reached out just as the safety closed in and bam, he caught it, pulled it in, and broke away for the end zone. The crowd roared as he crossed the goal line.
Touchdown.
We lined up for the extra point, and Dominic’s kick sailed through the uprights. The score was tied. It was an amazing feeling.
The rest of the half settled into another grind - run, pass, punt, with neither team able to break through. The defenses were keyed up now, flying to the ball on every play. By the time the clock hit zeros and the teams jogged to the locker rooms, the score was still stuck at seven apiece.
I do not know if it was the grinding nature of the game or what, but everyone was tense as we got back to the fieldhouse for halftime. Monterey had put up a fight in the first half, and we all knew this was far from over. I grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat off my face, and watched as Elijah, Hunter, and the rest came in through the door, having apparently hung back for a second.
I knew what was coming. Elijah had been glancing at me all through the second quarter, eyeing me like he had been since everything fell apart, and I knew in my gut that they hung back to talk about whatever was pissing him off.
“You really gonna act like that out there, Sims?” Elijah snapped, stepping in front of me before I could even sit down.
“Act like what?”
“Like you’re out there playing for your new best friends. Passing to Miguel? Seriously? You’ve got me wide open half the time and you don’t even look my way.”
“You’re not wide open. I’m making the right reads, Elijah. I’m not forcing throws just to make you happy.”
“Bullshit. You’re blowing it for us, man. This team could win if you’d stop playing favorites.”
I could feel the eyes of the other guys on us now. The room was going quiet. I knew four new guys were on my side and Elijah and his four were against me whatever I said, but there were nine other guys on the team besides us, and they didn’t need this shit. I wasn’t going to back down to him, though.
“Elijah, I’m doing my job,” I said, keeping my voice level. “I’m hitting the open guy. You want the ball? Get open.”
“I was open!” he shouted, stepping closer, his chest puffed out like he was trying to intimidate me. -“You just didn’t see me because you’re too busy sucking up to the new kids.”
“You were covered, Elijah. Every time. I’m not gonna force it. I’m playing to win, not to make you feel good.”
“That’s bullshit!” he all but yelled.
For a second, I thought he was going to swing at me, the way his fists clenched. The whole room seemed to freeze, everyone waiting to see what would happen next. Before he could do anything, the locker room door slammed open, and Coach Heidemann’s came in. Elijah took a step back and I was pretty sure the coach didn’t see what he was up to.
“Alright, Everyone gather up!”
Elijah gave me one last glare, but moved off. I watched him for a second, then turned toward Coach like the rest of the guys, shoving the tension down for now. We had a second half to worry about, and I wasn’t about to let Elijah throw me off my game.
As we jogged back out to the field, I saw the crowd had thinned out a little. It was a Thursday, so maybe people had work or school the next day. Dad was still sitting in place, and I gave him another wave.
The kick off return got to the twenty-five yard line. I was pumped, ready to get things moving again. We’d been shut down most of the first, and I didn’t want to let that keep going. I wanted us to start this year off strong with a win, and we were fairly evenly matched.
This was doable.
I snapped the ball and turned, pivoting to hand it off to Hunter, and then everything went to shit. The ball slipped right through his hands, bouncing off his hip pad. My stomach dropped as I watched it hit the grass. It didn’t bounce far and it was within Hunter’s reach, but he paused a full second before starting to dive for it, by which point a Monterey linebacker got there first, landing on it at our thirty-yard line.
I’d felt his hands on it before I let it go. It was pressed right up against his stomach. It should have been impossible for him to drop the ball. When I looked at Hunter, though, it was instantly apparent what had happened. He hadn’t fumbled at all. He’d let the ball go on purpose. He gave me a little smirk as we ran off the field, confirming my suspicion.
Our defense managed to hold them to a three-and-out, giving us another shot. This time we lined up in the I-formation.
Again I took the snap, this time for a passing play, but as I dropped back, before I could even set my feet, a defender blasted through untouched on my right side and slammed into me, taking my feet off the ground. I managed to keep my hands on the ball, but just barely. Jake had completely whiffed his block.
I hit the ground hard, losing us eight yards. From my spot on the turf, I saw Jake look to Elijah, who gave him a satisfied grin. Everything fell into place. They were doing it on purpose. Throwing the game and trying to make me look bad doing it.
Monterey’s offense took advantage of the short field on their next possession. Their running back broke through the line and sprinted forty yards for a touchdown. Just like that, we were down fourteen to seven.
Coach Heidemann pulled me aside as we prepped for our next series.
“What’s going on out there, Sims? You’re better than this.”
“Coach, they’re doing it on purpose. Hunter, Jake, Elijah, they’re trying to make me look bad.”
He wasn’t having it. “You’re the leader. Act like it. Figure it out.”
I could only nod. I knew how it sounded as soon as I said it. Like I was passing the blame. Whining. The coaches couldn’t see what I could. Couldn’t feel Hunter drop the ball on purpose.
We got the kickoff and pick up some field position, setting up for another passing play. I was watching Jake this time, and saw Elijah signal to him. I was still making my reads, but I was keeping an eye on Jake too, and saw him release his man early again. I was ready this time.
As the defender charged in, I spun away, tucking the ball and taking off toward the sideline.
Two Monterey players converged on me, but I cut back inside, splitting between them. Connor laid a beautiful block downfield, and suddenly I had daylight. I’d always been quick on my feet, but since the dream I’d been working out, getting stronger and focusing on speed drills, even at him, to try and pick that up some. It wasn’t enough to make me magically better in such a short time, but it didn’t hurt either.
I could feel the other team at my heels, but I just put everything into it veering slightly to keep distance with their safety, who was trying to track me down. Just as he was going to make the dive for me, I leapt for the sidelines, getting my hands just over the line.
Touchdown. We were tied up again.
I’d gotten lucky on that run, and I knew it. They pulled back a little, making the odds of that happening again a little less, even if it meant they couldn’t press the pocket as hard.
The game became a slog. Partly because my old friends were still trying to help us lose. It became more of a fight between me and them, than between us and Monterey. Every time Elijah’s group tried to sabotage a play, I found a way around it. When Hunter “missed” another handoff, I kept the ball and hit Miguel on a quick slant. When Jake let his man through again, I rolled out and threw a lateral to Jamal.
The only time we got better was the four minutes I got sat and coach put Gabriel in, to give him some field time. Elijah’s sabotage suddenly stopped and they looked a lot better, picking up some yardage before Gabriel threw a bad pass that got intercepted.
While the interception was enough to keep me from losing out on the rest of the game, it did help to sell the idea that I was the problem and causing a lot of the mistakes on the field.
The sabotage did its job, though. With two minutes left, they started their final drive from their thirty. Our defense fought hard, but they kept grinding out yards. Finally, with six seconds left, they lined up for a twenty-five-yard field goal that left the score seventeen to fourteen.
Elijah had made his game clear. They were trying to get me pulled as the starter. It didn’t seem to matter that Gabriel wasn’t as good. They only cared about hurting me.
Comments
Phil
Nevertheless, the scene had a nice flow, and you made your point about how Elijah's friends were sabotaging the rest of the team for their own selfish interests. So, are you going to bring the team sabotage to a fast conclusion or will this be an ongoing theme through most of the season???? I will just have to wait and see ;-)
Travis Starnes
It really is. I knew this one would get it. I'm not a sports person, so I know I'm going to make errors any time I write a sports scene, no matter how much research and prep I do.
Phil
I am sure it is a source of unending fascination to you on what passages provoke a reader comment and which passages sail through without one.
Travis Starnes
I edited it to be more clear, but it meant that Monterey's kick returner caught the ball at their two-yard line and got the ball to the thirty-five yard line before he was brought down. (got meant caught the kick off)
Brett Grayson
"We got the kickoff and pick up some field position, setting up for another passing play." There was no score by either team so how was there a "kick-off"? A kickoff is a method of starting a drive in gridiron football. Additionally, it may refer to a kickoff time, the scheduled time of the first kickoff of a game. Typically, a kickoff consists of one team – the "kicking team" – kicking the ball to the opposing team – the "receiving team". The receiving team is then entitled to return the ball, i.e., attempt to advance it towards the kicking team's end zone, until the player with the ball is tackled by the kicking team, goes out of bounds, scores a touchdown, or the play is otherwise ruled dead. Kickoffs take place at the start of each half of play, the beginning of overtime in some overtime formats, and after scoring plays. Do mean Blake's team was the receiving team after a punt or that his team punted?
Brett Grayson
Kickoff to start game? How does Monterey start the game on the two-yard line? There has to be some kind of background relating to that starting point that is missing. After the half, since Monterey received to start the first half, how was Monterey receiving again to start the 2nd half?
D.J. Clarke
Suggestion. May not be grammatically correct (I almost flunked grade 12 English way back when )but it reads better. Scores 7-0 not seven to zero. Most people would say seven-nothing. I played/read a lot of sports, maybe sports writers have their own verbiage. Also saw this before not in this series. high score always goes first, we were down 14-7, instead of down 7-14. Then again you are the writer I am just the reader and I enjoy your writing.
