Page 70 of For the Fans
The sheer madness of everything somehow fades into the background, like there’s a protective shield around me. It’s mycontrol; the discipline of my restraint. Harnessing every single bit of mayhem that surrounds me and using it as fuel.
I will not let them push me down.
I will not let them win.
“Drive!” Coach shouts as the seconds of our timeout tick down. “They’re expecting us to run, to take the obvious play for the field goal. Not happening. Fuckingdrive!” He backs up, then calls out fast in his usual commanding brogue, “Eagles on three. One, two, three—”
Everyone hollers, “Eagles!”Then we break.
And it’s back to the game.
Less than two minutes left on the clock and we’re down by three points. Duke came prepared. They’ve been matching our energy the entire game. Every time we score, they score, leaving our defense with their heads spinning each time the ball is in Duke’s hands. I’m confident that I can get us in the lead right now… But then my teammates will need to hold them off to run out the clock.
Losing this game isnota fucking option. Duke has been nearly unstoppable this season—nearlybeing the operative word. If we beat them now, we could clinch their spot in the playoffs.
Their quarterback, Devon Lancaster, is a powerhouse. We’re constantly compared to one another, our stats nearly identical. So for me, winning this game would finally put me on top for good.
Ineedthis win.I need to prove that I’m doing the right thing.
On the field, I can almost feel the stands vibrating around me. Maroon and gold shimmer on the edges of my vision, as does the movement of a certain mascot I’ve been purposely ignoring all night.
Just knowing he’s over there has my hands clenching while I await the snap. He’s hopping around as the play clock counts down, and my jaw ticks.
Four… three… two…
Time stands still before it speeds back up in an instant. I’m fed the ball and I back-step, eyes zoned on Guty. They’re all over him, which has obviously been their tactic the whole game. To sever our connection.
But they’re playing it too close to the chest, leaving one of our other receivers, Tim Fellows, open to run. And he does.
He breaks away down the field, and I launch the ball in his direction. It’s an overshot… One that Guty would sail to easily, being the fastest dude I’ve ever seen. But Fellows has to sprint like his life depends on it to catch up to the ball.
I hold my breath, watching it fall as his arms stretch out. But I miss what happens when I’m tackled to the ground.
Scrambling out from under one of Duke’s guards, I smack his hand away as he tries to help me up, jumping to my feet at the sounds of cheers and howls.
Fellows caught it. He caught the ball and is running,divingtoward the end zone.
My heart is in my throat, breathing shallowed, as he narrowly avoids being grabbed and steps over the line before crashing to the ground.
“Fuckyes!” I roar, and the crowd goes wild as the ref calls it.
Touchdown!
We’re all going crazy, Eagles players jumping and screaming to match the rumble in the stands. Everyone is freaking out, because it looks like we’re gonna win this thing!
But there’s still a minute on the clock. And the way Duke’s been playing all night, I justknowLancaster is going to try for another touchdown while simultaneously running out the clock, so I don’t have an opportunity to get back out on the field.
It’s all riding on our defense, which means I can’t control the situation. Like an itch just beneath the surface of my skin.
Theo nails the extra point, which is great, but it still doesn’t placate me as I move off of the field, listening to Coach shout things at the linebackers. Slapping Fellows on the back, I grunt, “Nice job, kid.”
He whips off his helmet, grinning to match my own. Excited, but also strained. Because we both know we’re not out of the woods. “That how you always toss to Guty??” he teases breathlessly while squirting water into his mouth from his bottle. “Fuckin’ Stretch Armstrong.”
I laugh and give him a shove. “You pulled it off.”
Removing my helmet, I hesitantly plop down on the bench, having some water as my eyes stay fixed on the field. My knee is bouncing while I watch Lancaster, trying to read him… Anticipate his next move.
But something distracts me. A large, dumbass form in my peripheral.
