Page 147 of Redemption
I turn to him and look through the slots of his face mask. “I want you to play smart. Don’t make any stupid decisions out there that will get you hurt. Do you understand me?”
He nods his head. “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” I say, slapping his shoulder pads.
The defense has stopped the other team within minutes, and our offense runs out.
Tanner lines up behind the center, clapping his head and yelling, “Hike.”
My stomach stays in knots as I watch the ball reach his hands. He pulls it up to his shoulder, looking for an open receiver, and when he finds one, he lets the ball fly. The receiver catches it with ease and takes off running down the field until a defensive player catches up with him, tackling him to the ground.
The crowd cheers, and I take a breath.
One play safe, a hundred more to go.
I may have a heart attack from stress by the time this game is over.
We continue to move the ball, and the crowd goes wild with every yard we gain. And I hear MJ yelling the loudest each time, above the crowd.
Every once in a while, I chance a glance up to where she’s sitting. There’s happiness in her eyes and a grin on her face. She’s having fun.
At first, I worried about pushing her into this, but I meant what I said. I think she needed to come here to heal, and with her mom sitting beside her in the stands, she’s healing in a lot of ways.
The minutes tick down, and with each one, we are closer to ending this game without an injury. My body starts to relax, and I settle into the game with my players.
The game stays close, with each team trading touchdowns, and by the time we are in the fourth quarter, the score is tied.
I called a time-out, and now we are in the huddle. We have three minutes left to score. If we can drag out this drive and score, we can prevent the other team from taking possession.
“Alright, boys, this is your time to shine,” Campbell says from the other side of the huddle. “Go out there and hold your line. We’re going to run the clock, which means keeping the ball on the ground. Hold onto the football.”
Campbell’s speech ends, and eleven sets of eyes swivel my way. “Remember what I said—win or lose. You are more than this moment. It won’t define the rest of your life.”
The boys offer sober nods, and then we break the huddle. Campbell and I step back onto the sideline while the boys take their formation.
The ball is snapped, and Tanner hands it off to the running back, who takes off. He makes it five yards before he’s brought down.
Slowly, we march the ball down the field, eating up yard by yard until there are seconds left on the time clock, and we have twenty yards to go.
I study my play sheet in my hand. They expect us to pass. They are waiting for it, so that’s why we aren’t going to.
“Tanner, get over here,” I yell, watching the play-clock.
There’s time.
Tanner rushes over, and I grab his helmet, pulling his head down to mine.
“This is your moment, kid. We’re going to run a fake. You’re fast. I’ve seen you run at practice. Fake the hand-off and run for your life.”
“You got it, Coach.”
With one last slap to his helmet, he takes off at a sprint to his team. He relays the play, and the team lines up.
Seconds tick down on the play clock, and just before the time is up, the center snaps the ball straight into Tanner’s hands.
He fakes it to the running back, then tucks it in his arms. His feet move quicker than I’ve ever seen him move, running down the sideline and finding gaps while his teammates block for him.
Behind me, the crowd is on their feet, going wild, while my heartbeat thunders to the rhythm of their cheers.
