Page 70 of Time Out

“Let’s go, boys!”

Coach Paul Bowles jumped up and down, throwing his fists into the air so hard and fast he knocked his mic off his ear. “Yes! Goddamn, yes, that is how you play, men!”

Our team erupted in another round of furious cheers as the refs called it officially our ball and Raleigh’s special team slunk back to their sidelines.

Thirty seconds. Less than thirty seconds left in the game and we were already in Jassen’s field goal range, although it’d be long. Tight. The wind was minimal and he had the least amount of misses of any field goal kicker in the NFL this season, but we could make it easier for him to lock in the win.

“Quick run play,” Cole said to me as we hustled out to the field. “Get me eight to ten, Hall.”

“Let’s go, Captain.”

That was the trust he had in me. No doubt. No hesitation. I rose to the challenge and the ball was in my hands. Six yards. Four to go. Twenty seconds and we called our last time out and hustled to the sidelines.

“Get the ball to the sidelines and get out,” Bowles said, and he glanced at all of us.

He was intense, but he was a good man. Loved each of us. Made sure we knew it and when he criticized our mistakes, he always made sure to start with what we’d done right. He was the kind of man who reminded me of my dad. Unconditional love and respect was given to every one of his players. “Butler. JJ. Everyone get open. Get me six more yards so Moore can nail it. Everyone got it?”

There was a round of yes, sir through our huddle and then Bowles settled his hands on the shoulders of Cole and Mason. “Love you, men. Told you once, and I told you a thousand times this season you men have something special. It’s not only your talent, it’s your heart and your drive we’ve seen every day since pre-season began. Since camp, and even since the off-season. You’ve worked for this, you’ve earned it, and now you just gotta finish it out but even if this game goes into OT or against us, know, down to my soul the love I have for each and everyone of you is the love I have for my sons.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Now go end this and get us to the next round!”

We clapped hands together, hustled back to the sidelines.

Cole lined up. Play was called.

The play moved to slow motion, and as I looked, heading toward my spot, I got tripped up by a defensive end, and a yellow flag flew in my peripheral.

Shit!

Play ended with Yeets getting the ball. The six yards turned to eight as he stepped out of bounds but it was the flag that had my stomach knotting. It was too close to our side.

The field judge hurried to the other refs, nodded, and tucked the flag back into his pocket as he ran toward the side of the field. “Holding! Offense. Number ninety-four.”

“Shit!” Cole shouted. Fifteen seconds. Enough for one more play, but with losing ten yards, we’d put Moore in a tricky spot. The ball would be right at his longest field goal all year.

“All right. Shake it off,” Cole told Gibson, the guy who’d caused the penalty.

“Bullshit penalty,” he grumbled. We always liked to believe they were. “Let’s go. Do this.”

Lined up. Ball snapped. Adrenaline raced through me and as the play looked to be similar to the last one, at the last second, Cole spotted me. I had a defender coming up on my ass and one barreling toward me from the backfield but he let loose. The ball sailed through the air and dropped right into my hands. I was hit almost immediately, managed to fight the first tackle and then was shoved out of bounds.

“Yes! Good job!” Bowles slammed his hand to my helmet where I’d stepped out of bounds and I risked a quick peek at the clock.

Ten seconds.

Twelve yards.

I’d put us right back where we were pre-penalty and hopefully gained a couple extra yards.

“Field goal! Field goal!” It was time. Ten seconds.

We’d still have to kick off and pray like hell for those seconds that something batshit crazy wasn’t hiding up Beaux Hale’s sleeve but this was it.

Our final chance.

The field goal team took the field.

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