Page 90 of Silent Count
At the line of scrimmage, my receivers position themselves on the left, with Casey as my intended target. The defense sees the formation and adjusts to bring more coverage to the left. And I look to my right to make sure we’re all ready to go. I lift my leg to signal to Taylor.
I watch the defense shift again as I silently count,One. Two. Three.
Then the ball snaps to me. I move out of the pocket to my left and watch as Casey breaks left and starts to run near the sideline. I launch a rocket to him; his arms reach above his head, and he has to jump to grab it. When he lands on his feet, he takes off and runs right into the end zone.
We all rush down the field.
“Fuck yeah, King!” I slap his helmet. “That’s my guy!”
“Let’s fucking go!” he yells, then flexes into the camera in the end zone and tosses the ball to the ref.
We opt for the two-point conversion and line up again without the huddle. We practice this pattern so many times; everyone knows where they need to be and when. And we almost always use a silent count on two-point conversions, and this play is no different. I lift my leg again, and Taylor taps my center.
I count to three in my head.One. Two. Three.
I catch the ball from my center, then turn to my right as my running back runs behind me. I send a toss pass to him, and he runs to the right, diving over the defense to make it into the end zone.
“Hell yeah!” I pump my fist into the air.
The game is all but over now, and our teammates start to run out onto the field to celebrate. It quickly becomes out of control as our fans also start to rush the field. State troopers start to create a circle around us, so we can move to the safe zone.
Red and white confetti starts to fall from the domed ceiling all around us. I try to make my way through my teammates so Ican go shake the other quarterback’s hand and also their coach’s. It’s almost impossible to make it through, and then I’m swept away by our media specialist to be interviewed.
I give a quick interview, recalling the game, and then it’s time for us to make our way to the stage they’ve set up out of nowhere. Someone hands me a T-shirt and a hat that readsNational Champions Walker Universityand has the Stallions logo in the center, but I don’t put it on just yet. I notice some family members and girlfriends making their way into the group and start looking for Chelsea and my parents—who made the trip after a very long conversation about where Chelsea and I stood—over the crowd.
I spot her walking toward the stage, in her number six jersey, with Noelle and Charlie. They’re all excited, looking around at everything and trying to find me and Casey. I spot him over on the other side of the stage. And when I turn back to look at the girls, Chelsea sees me, and I point to Casey. She tells Noelle and Charlie, and they split off to go see him, and she makes her way to me. I still don’t see my parents though.
When she reaches me, I lift her into my arms.
“Congratulations!” she yells over the crowd noise.
I lean in and kiss her, not caring who might be watching. And keep kissing her until I feel a tap on the shoulder.
“Bo, excuse me. Can we get a few questions in real quick?” our media manager asks me, then winks at me, letting me know it’s time.
Chelsea and I pull apart.
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
I lower Chelsea to the ground and take her hand in mine. She tries to pull away, but I don’t want her to get lost in the crowd so I bring her with me.
“Bo, I can wait for you here so you can do what you need to do, or I can go find the girls.”
“Not a chance. You’re staying with me.” I tug on her hand, pulling her along with me.
When we reach the reporter near the sideline, I lean into her. “If you don’t want to be on camera, you can stand to my left, out of the frame.” I know she’s been a little nervous about all the media exposure, so I don’t want her to feel pressured to stand next to me while I’m on camera.
“I’m good, I promise.” She leans up and kisses my cheek. “I’m so proud of you and proud to stand by your side.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.” I lift my eyebrows in question. “You know I’ve got you.”
“I’m sure!” She laughs and wraps her arm around mine.
I look at the interviewer, who I know from other games over the years; she’s also a well-known broadcaster. “Hey, Holly. How’re you doing?”
“Awesome game, Bo! Really incredible.” She shakes my hand.
“Thank you. It was memorable for sure.” I laugh.
