The Fifteenth Year

May: Part 13

Saturday, May 21, 2005 (continued)

Dear Friend,

Each minute on that game clock counting down to the kickoff felt like a millennium. I felt detached from the marching bands and the polite cheers from the stands; disconnected from each team warming up on the field. I felt weird every time Fred threw a practice throw and Jason, Chris, or Nathan or any of the other offensive players jogged for a catch. I guess if nobody was catching the ball it would be a terrible sign of the game to follow, but every time that ball was caught by a Lakota Lion I felt annoyed. I wanted those catches to matter and rack up points. I wanted to know how we'd play when the pressure was actually on. Our defensive blocking looked steady, but so did Collingwood from their warm-ups. There was a reason they made it here too. They had been a stellar team. I was scared. I wanted this just as badly as Jason because I knew how much it meant to him. A trophy is a wonderful thing, but I wasn't stupid. I knew there were scouts here scoping out the players. It was a much bigger deal than a title. I know, I know. It is just a game. I was going to be proud of Jason and have faith in his NFL future no matter what. But I wanted these scouts to see everything I've seen for so many years - to see how good he is.

When it came time for the coin toss, the referee stood on the field and addressed the captains of the teams. Colin Sawyer; a senior on our team, and Adam Schefield; the senior and starting quarterback on theirs.

"What are you calling?" the ref asked Colin.

"Tails," he answered.

The coin flipped end on end in the air before it landed on the grass.

"The coin reads Heads," the ref answered after a glance.

The other side of the field erupted in cheers. I sighed. Collingwood won the toss. They deferred the ball, wanting to the receive the ball in the second half. It was smart, but it put us at a beginning disadvantage. We would just have to score first, strong, and hard in the first half to put them to work. Jason looked at me from the bench as he adjusted his knee pads, prepared to line up. I smiled at him reassuringly, but he could barely muster a tight-lipped corners-of-his-mouth-turned-up smile. He put on his helmet after we called fair catch on the eighteen yard line and the offense gathered on the field into position.

I held my breath as that first snap was made. Our blockers struggled, so Fred had to execute a pass quickly. He made an incomplete pass to someone about eleven yards away. We quickly had to punt the ball after three downs. Fortunately, this was a very defensive driven game on both sides. We weren't losing, but nobody had put up any points on the board by the end of the first quarter.

"They're pretty evenly matched, aren't they?" Monique asked me, biting her lip.

I nodded without a word. I was too nervous to speak. I could tell Jason was visibly frustrated. Not at his team, but his own capabilities. He'd go sit on the bench when our defense took the field and pull off the protective helmet gear in an angry motion.

It was a long second-quarter. Down after down on both sides with no points on the board, and barely any yards gained. You'd think something like, seriously - these are the best teams in California? They can't even complete a pass or run for a touchdown, but really - the defensive linemen for Lakota and Collingwood were that fantastic. If we could just get in field goal range...

Collingwood beat us to it. One long completed pass put them in field goal range. We held them at that yard line with a sack and a block of a pass for them to try for a kick from our thirty-five yard line. When it sailed between the posts easily, my heart sank a little. We were only down by three; it was still a one possession game - still easy to take over the lead, but it was still discouraging. Unfortunately, I would have some time to dwell further on it. We went into halftime 3-0 down.

"Don't worry, Peanut," my dad said, squeezing my shoulder. "That coach is going to rip them new buttholes and put some fire in their bellies in the locker room. They'll come out a different offense."

I raised my eyebrows. "You think?"

"Sure. Coach Palmer reminds me of Bill Cowher. Crazy eyes, passionate about the game, respected by his players."

"Except Palmer has zero pro experience and has only been with the Lions for three seasons..."

"Hush, Cassie," my mom warned. "Don't rain on your dad's parade. Have faith in the team."

I looked at Jason's parents with regret. "Sorry, guys...it's not that I don't trust..."

Greg put his arm around Monique. "It's okay, Cassie. You only want this for Jason. We all do. But I'm siding with your dad on this one. I think Palmer can stir some confidence in these boys. We just gotta wait and see."