Being on the receiving end of the kick off had been the first of many nasty tricks. Instead of being a proper kick to our receiver, it was a squib. Gliding close to the ground and bouncing off Joseph's leg before he dove to claim it. That stunt put us at the thirty yard line, in our own backyard. It was the worst possible position to be in at the start of any game. This one was especially bad.
Two touchdowns under the Bengals name and we saw the next attack. The massive linemen were split with four on the line and three behind them. The three leapt over our line with their arms ready to wrap, yank and drag our players down. The blitz technique wasn't like anything we'd faced and they were using it to their advantage.
Corey cursed under his breath when they stripped the ball loose from Greg. Poor guy was feeling the same pressures as the rest of us, but it was worse for him. He was a backup that hadn't expected to play in the State Championship. Had it not been for that bad hit a few games back, Noah would be suited up and in his place.
"We need to get clear of those giants," Gilly growled as he passed us. The demand had Corey and I brainstorming instantly. Shane and Finn stepped up as it became obvious what we were doing.
"I think we need to get deeper in the backfield," Shane panted out. Finn had his hands on his hips as he tried to steady his own breathing.
"We need the line to block better. Pop up faster, or something," Finn chimed in.
"Joseph," I shouted, waving him over.
"What's up, Little Lester?"
"I need to know what you're hearing out there."
"I'm hearing shouting," he mumbled. I glanced at the scoreboard and saw it was third and sixteen. They were close enough for a field goal attempt, but wouldn't dare something that easy. This was all about humiliation and delivering the ball over that line was always going to be their reason for the drive. That meant we had a solid five minutes to get something together.
"Listen to them out there. We need to narrow down when they are calling for the blitz."
"He's right. You can't hear shit on the field. I can barely hear Gilly calling plays." Shane was starting to look worn down, and it was still early. I looked at Corey and he was already shaking his head.
"We can't pull him out."
"Then put me in for Greg."
"It would be like the St. Peters game," Finn offered with a shrug. "They won't expect her in a position that isn't in the pocket."
"They have our film for the season. They know that if she and Russel are on the field at the same time that we are up to something."
"Never underestimate the simple minded," Shane mumbled.
"Or Little Lester," Joseph jumped in, defending me.
"All I need is one series. Then you can pull me out and we can work out a game plan."
"Allen," Corey shouted and Greg ran over. "Take a break."
The new guy looked way too relieved to be headed for the bench. Corey narrowed his eyes on me and repeated that I only had the four plays, as promised, to get the information I needed. The look on Finn and Shane's faces was all I needed to know. They wanted this to work as much as I did. All the teams we've faced had chinks in their armor. Our team's weakness was me. These guys had to have one, too.
"Ohio," Corey shouted as we ran on the field. Glancing at Finn, he nodded while snapping his chin strap into place. I took a deep breath as I did the same and lined up opposite of him.
"Oh," Shane repeated the play in the huddle. He flicked out his pointer finger twice, curled his hand back into a fist and repeated the motion. A strong hand landed in the center of my back and the weight of the imaginary bullseye settled between my shoulder blades. "Set."
The huddle broke with the single word and we lined up in our designated positions. The duo across from, prepared to tag team me, were ravage beasts. The need for blood was in their eyes and it should have terrified me. Stunned me into place. Something that would be expected from a normal person.
The number of times I had gotten between my brother and his targets prepared me for hostile situations. I was numb to their intimidating stares. All I had to do was embrace the same amount of aggression as the men around me.
Glancing at Finn, standing at the other end of the line, I waited to see that smile. To the sparkle in those emerald eyes. I needed to know whatever happened in the next moment was going to be for the team. This was a contact sport after all. I was going to get hit. I was going to be put on the spot. I didn't need him charging after someone for doing their job.
Shane shouted out the play. Our line men got into position. The code word to remind us which way the ball was going. Their beefy hands planted and replanted against the turf field. The play was then repeated this time with the code word all in one breath. Their stances widened and narrowed as Finn and I prepared to sprint toward Shane without giving it away. The instant Shane called for the snap, we were attacked. Joseph had been right.
There hadn't been a word growled from the other side. No tapping of a foot or helmet. Nothing had changed before the blitz happened. One second we were fidgeting to move then we were being swarmed.
I was still processing the truth when I ended up crossing paths with Finn. We reached out for the ball at the same time as our shoulder pads brushed. Leather grazed my skin as the ball slipped through my hands and into Finn's. With my arms crossed near my torso, I let my feet carry me to the opposite side of the field. Three massive reasons why being the decoy sucked came into my line of sight and I had to think fast.
If three were coming for me, then two would be on Finn. Unless the defensive line men recovered faster than I thought they would. There would be more chasing after him in no time. I had to convince them that I was the ball carrier.
Sticking out my arm, I shoved one of the defenders away. The stiff arm only cleared the path for the next one. My feet knew what to do as my body started to spin away from the hands reaching out to take me down. Gloved fingers grasped at the air as he lunged forward, and missed. The third giant was waiting with his arms open wide. His lips split into a grin, revealing his neon orange mouth guard.
The feeling of two hundred and fifty pounds slamming into me was unavoidable. Arms strangled my torso as fingers clung to my jersey and pads. We fell to the hard ground and the breath was forced from my lungs. The defender scrambled to his feet with his eyes fixed on mine as he prepared for a celebration.
My hands fell to my sides and I let the wild smirk take over my face. His eyes widened when they registered the truth. Ripping his gaze from me, his head whipped toward the other side of the field. Even from my place on the ground, I could see the frustration beginning to show. I pushed myself off the ground to stand beside my opponent. We watched as two of his teammates were gaining on Finn. They were just passing the down marker before either of them could catch up to him.
It was too late for them to try and regain their control of this play. The first one to fail had reached out for Finn's jersey then stumbled from slowing down. I couldn't stop the grin from forming as he did a faceplant on the turf. The second player couldn't get close enough to make a tackle. One last burst of energy put him neck and neck with Finn. Throwing himself in front of Finn forced both of them out of bounds.
For the first time we were able to move the markers on the first drive. That alone was worth taking that hit. The bruise I was going to be sporting will be worn with honor. Looking at the sidelines, Corey nodded for me to stay in another play. Patting the top of his head, I raced back to the huddle to tell them which play he wanted. We were all too happy to run Ohio again.
When the numbers shifted for extra blocking on Finn's end of the line, Shane shouted Buckeye. The signal for a switch in receivers. It would be my turn to carry the ball. I went from sitting in the stands, to potentially riding the bench, to back up QB and now a wide receiver. And my first season wasn't even over yet.
**~~**
Number seventy six. He's the one who is in charge of making the call. He looked for the right time then tapped the padded thigh of the man to his right. That man would lift his foot to secure his stance. That's when I saw it. It was a pattern that can go unnoticed at the line. He dragged his foot back then stomped it twice into the dirt. Seconds later he and his fellow linemen were attacking. The few times that they didn't blitz, he had brought his foot down one time before digging the toe of his cleat into the ground.
It took two more series before I could confirm it. I had to wave to get any of the coaches' attention. Poor Greg looked like he was going to lose his dinner on the turf when he was told to go back in. Apparently the nausea that rolled through Shane had jumped bodies. Or it was contagious. He was about to go back on the field during the biggest game of a season. The relief from being pulled had faded, and his nerves were starting to show again.
As we passed each other, I gave him a smack to his shoulder pads and a quick reminder of who he was. Being a sophomore and a backup didn't mean he wasn't worthy. He had made it onto the team, just like me. All the abilities that Noah and Finn had, he had as well. Practice and focus would be needed if he was going to play at their level in the future. That could wait until another time. We needed him to be here mentally and able to do his share of work on the field. All I could do was pray that the little bit of encouragement I could offer would help to get him through this game.
"Are you sure," Corey shouted after I had told him what I'd learned. There were only a few inches between us on the bench, but the chanting flowing from the stands was clashing with the noise rolling off the field. The wall of sounds closed in on us, making it nearly impossible to talk through things at a normal volume. It was another battle that we were forced to face while our defense was pushed back another three yards.
"I'm positive," I assured him. I had stolen his dry erase marker and drawn out a plan on his board. Running Ohio had seemed to throw them off just enough that we had even the playing field. Just like with St. Peter's, we were able to get a score on the board with it. That was all though. One touchdown and an extra point was all that we could manage in the last fifteen minutes.
"And this will actually work," Shane asked from over my shoulder. He was peering down at the board. His forehead was wrinkled more than I had ever seen it before.
"It should," I offered.
The more my teammates relied on me, the more confident I had become. It was when Coach Corey and, occasionally, Coach Gilly stopped to listen that I knew it was more than suggestions. They were make or break plays that could honestly go either way. It didn't change how my coaches and teammates were looking at me. To me. It was all about the game. It didn't matter who was making the plays or how a series went. We were willing to take the heat if something went wrong. Only because we were celebrating when the gamble paid off.
After today, win or lose, I wasn't going to be able to let this feeling go. The everlasting high of being the go to person. The crowd's cheers and chants rumbling through me to my bones. The contradicting feel of the smooth and textured feeling of the ball against my fingers. The look of joy on my boyfriend's face after a rewarding play. The pride in my brother's eyes as he tries to avoid being too emotional when the game finally ends in a victory.
There were so many little things that had consumed my senses about this sport. Each and every last one of them was engraved so deeply into my bones that there was no way I could ever forget them. Not in five years when I'm graduating from college. Not ten years after that when I'm teaching my own about this game. Not even when my memory starts to fade. I will retell the tales of my fifteen minutes of glory until my last breath.