Chapters (38)
The Cheetahs’ QB was better than Layton, although no one on our team would say that out loud. He had an arm like a cannon, and when he ran, he could weave through defenders like they weren’t there. But he rarely had to run. He could throw a tea party in the backfield if he wanted to, because their offensive line was impenetrable. But if I was going to do what I needed to do, I had to break through.
All game I tried. I tried harder than I ever had before. But by halftime, I hadn’t put a single dent in that human wall.
The score was tied at thirteen—two touchdowns and one successful extra point for each team. Two of their players and one of ours were pulled out of the game for fighting. And yeah, the Cheetahs were nasty. Flag after flag was thrown for everything from backfield in motion to holding, but in spite of all their penalties, they kept the pressure on—and our team’s anger at their poor sportsmanship worked against us. Our team didn’t want to play football now; we just wanted to beat the crap out of them. The way I had felt about Layton in the locker room.
“Do not let them psych you out!” the coach yelled during his halftime rant. “It’s what they want. It’s their strategy. Do not let them faze you!”
But since I was playing a different game, I didn’t care whether the Cheetahs followed the rules or not. All I cared about was getting through that line. And hitting. Hard. I would have broken their QB’s back if that would take me where I needed to go.
The cheerleaders put on a show, Katie all fake smiles, in spite of anything she might be feeling inside. The band marched through a weak rendition of an even weaker song from this world, and the second half began.
I thought I’d be facing the same impenetrable offensive line, but then a few minutes into the third quarter, I saw my opening. Their center—who I faced on the line—slipped when hiking the ball. Not enough to throw him off balance, but enough to rattle his focus. He recovered in an instant, but that instant was all I needed. I hurled myself into him, he went down, and I was through the line! Their quarterback hadn’t yet found a receiver to pass to because I had broken through the line so quickly.
I was a freight train in motion. Single-minded. I would take him down for a ten-yard loss—but more than that, I would launch myself into the true field of play. I was ready. I was confident.
And then it all went wrong.