They add one more guy on me, which leaves Santiago practically open. I only gain a few yards this time, but it’s enough to get off a lateral pass and then watch him take off, down, down, over … Holy shit. I keep waiting for the sound of bodies colliding and hitting dirt that never comes, and it isn’t until I hear the crowd going absolutely insane that I realize I’m actually seeing what I thought I saw.

“Touchdown: Gators! Number seventeen, Miguel Santiago, just took it seventy yards into the end zone! Unbelievable!”

Unbelievable isn’t even the word for it. Hot damn. I’m running after him before I even know what I’m doing and we chest-bump right there on the field, everyone getting an eyeful of the fact that we’re clearly on a team here. I’m sure there are a million questions why, but I’m not answering to anyone right now.

Of course, Seth Mathison flubs the extra point, but it’s tough to say whether that’s intentional or he just sucks that hard. Even when he gives Sanchez an exaggerated wink, I’m still pretty sure it’s a cover.

To the surprise of no one, our defense gets utterly trounced, and by the time I get the ball back, we’re down 7–6. I’m mostly relieved this isn’t gonna be a shutout, but still manage to get another first down by throwing a bullet straight to Santiago. He’s tackled immediately—guess they’re catching on to the fact that practically speaking, I only have one real receiver on this team—but at least we gain some yardage.

Santiago stays on the ground a minute longer than he should, and I know it’s time to give him a break, even if it means burning any shot at another first down. This time, I do follow the playbook, and send a twenty-yard pass down to Sanchez, knowing there’s no chance in hell he’ll catch it and the best I can hope for is that it won’t be intercepted.

It isn’t, but he doesn’t catch it, either, making a big deal of motioning that I threw it out of his reach, even though my seven-year-old cousin sitting in the stands could’ve jumped high enough to grab it.

The crowd groans, and I almost wish I could see Dan’s expression behind his helmet. I guess he’s used to hearing disappointed fans, so maybe this is a nice bit of nostalgia for him.

On the sidelines, the cheerleaders are doing their best to keep the crowd pumped, and I weigh my options. I could run again, but it’s too early in the game to risk a second hit. Returning to Santiago would probably catch them off guard at this point, but I don’t want to risk him getting injured either.