End Zone (10 page)

•  •  •

Because of the Eagles' perfect regular-season record, all their league play-off games were at home. That was a good thing, mostly, in Tiki's opinion. You could feel the crowd behind you, and when the other team had the ball, they did their best to drown out the quarterback's signal calls.

But if you messed up on the field, doing it in front of a home crowd made it even worse—you could feel their disappointment, their agony (your own times two thousand!), their frustration.

It had happened to Tiki and Ronde in the course of their three seasons at Hidden Valley. It happened to
everyone
sooner or later—especially the team's “skill” players: receivers, running backs, defensive backs, and especially
quarterbacks
.

Tiki remembered Cody Hansen last year, messing things up more than a few times, and then making things worse with his attitude. Cody had finally come around, just in time for the Eagles to go all the way to the State Championship.

Now it was Hayden Brook's turn. From their first offensive possession, things started going wrong, and it only went downhill from there.

Hayden muffed the first snap of the drive—luckily,
Luke Frazier fell on it. Then he threw the ball ten yards too far, missing Felix Amadou by a mile. On third down, he seemed to panic when the blitz came, and stood there frozen instead of scrambling. The result was a sack, and the Eagles had to punt.

That first drive was only the beginning. By the time the first quarter was over, Hayden had turned the ball over three times—two interceptions and a fumble on a rollout. He was carrying the ball far from his body—an easy target for slapping away.

Tiki felt like his head was about to explode. The Eagle fans were on the edge of booing Hayden, and Tiki could see that the young QB was shaken. He seemed close to tears, his former confidence totally gone.

For his part, Tiki had done his best. His carries had resulted in thirty-seven yards for the Eagles, but it hadn't amounted to anything, because Hayden kept making mental mistakes.

The rest of the Eagles were starting to grumble among themselves. One or two of them had even lost it—Paco groaned, “Oh, come on, man!” when Hayden committed the fumble.

Tiki felt the same as Paco, but he knew it was no use to complain to Hayden—that would only make things worse, killing whatever shred of confidence the kid had left.

The Eagle defense, led by Ronde and Rob Fiorilla, was
doing its best to keep North Side at bay. But when the other team gets the ball on your side of the field every time, it's hard to keep them out of the end zone. The score was already 10–0, and as a result of Hayden's latest fumble, the Rockets were threatening again.

Normally, Coach Wheeler would have called Hayden to the bench and sent in his replacement. But the Eagles had no “Plan B”—Manny was out, and there was no third-string quarterback. Rio Ikeda was listed that way on the roster, but as a seventh-grader, he hadn't taken a single snap, and there was no way he was going into a play-off game.

“Coach,” Tiki said, approaching Wheeler. He'd stayed silent as long as he could, but he had to say something to somebody. The game was rapidly getting out of control. If things kept up this way, it would soon be impossible for the Eagles to come back and win.

“What's up, Barber?” Coach Wheeler said, without turning away from the field. His eyes looked haunted—but so did the eyes of every Eagle and every Eagle fan. This was not what anybody had expected—not even in their worst nightmares.

“Coach, put me in at QB!” Tiki urged him. “I can do it—and the team needs me.”

Wheeler glanced his way and let out a bitter laugh. “Are you nuts?” he asked. “We need you doing what you do best.”

“But Hayden—”

“Hayden's a good player,” Wheeler said, glancing down the bench at his quarterback, who was sitting there staring at the ground. No one sat within six feet of him. It was as if he had the plague. “He's just down right now.”

“Well, can't you talk to him? Get his spirits back up?”

“I've already tried,” Wheeler said, sighing. “It didn't seem to do much good.” Then he looked at Tiki. “Maybe if his
captain
said something to him . . .”

“Me?”

Coach Wheeler shrugged. “Sometimes it means more coming from somebody your own age. Somebody who's been there himself, not too long ago.”

Tiki nodded, and went slowly over to sit down beside Hayden. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Hayden replied, without looking up.

On the field, North Side broke a long run. They were in the Eagle red zone again, with a first down at the twelve yard line. Tiki winced.

“Listen,” he said, putting a hand on Hayden's back. “This game is not over.”

“No?” Hayden said bitterly. “I don't know about that.”

“Hey—no matter how bad you feel right now, you've still got time to turn things around. Remember, you're the same guy who won the last two games for us.”

“Uh . . . in case you forgot, there were a bunch of other guys who helped win those games too.”

“And those guys are right here with you now!” Tiki said, jumping on any opening Hayden gave him. “We're all ready to stage a huge comeback. We just need you to take charge!”

“I think the guys are pretty steamed at me,” Hayden said, wincing. “I can't blame them. I'm stinking up the joint.”

“Forget it—it's in the past, dude. We've got three quarters—well, two-plus quarters—left to make up a measly ten points.”

Just then, the Rockets threw a touchdown pass that Ronde narrowly missed batting away. The crowd groaned. Hayden looked down at the ground again.

“Make that seventeen points,” he said, even before the extra point was notched.

“Look, just keep to those few simple pass plays we've got down,” Tiki told him. “Let's take it one score at a time, okay? If we can hang onto the ball from here on in, we can beat these guys! We've beaten them twice already this year, and we scored forty-two points both times!”

“That was with Manny at QB,” Hayden reminded him.

“Dude,” Tiki told him, “you can
do
this.
WE
can do this. Just forget what's already happened, stick to the game plan, and hold on to the ball. In fact, give it to
me
a few times to start us off. I'll get us some field position, and then you can do your thing.”

Tiki patted him on the knee and stood up to get back on the field.

Hayden rose to his feet. “Tiki,” he said, “I don't know if—”

“You can do this
, kid,” Tiki cut him off. “I've been in your shoes, more than once, and I
know
what you're going through. I'm telling you—
you can do this.”

Hayden took a deep breath, blew it out, and nodded, his jaw set firmly and his eyes burning with intensity. “Okay, let's go,” he said. Not waiting to see if Tiki was following, he ran out onto the field, clapping his hands together, all fired up.

“Geez, what did you say to him?” Paco asked as they jogged toward the huddle.

“Tell you later,” Tiki said, grinning. “Let's play some football!”

“ATTAWAY, TIKI!!” RONDE YELLED. HIS VOICE WAS
drowned out by the general noise of two thousand fans screaming their heads off. Tiki had gotten the home fans excited with three straight runs for big gains.

North Side was throwing everything they had at Tiki, but it didn't matter—he just would not go down.

Of course, the Eagle offense couldn't just keep handing the ball to Tiki. He already looked exhausted, and why not? He'd been dragging defenders on his back play after play. The Eagles were on the North Side twenty-seven, but now they were going to have to try something else.

Hayden dropped back, then flicked a quick pass to Luke Frazier. It happened so fast, and the ball got to Luke so quickly, that there was no time for the defense to react.

It wasn't a difficult throw for Hayden, and the pass rush had no time to put pressure on him. In short, it was exactly the kind of play Hayden could succeed at, and Ronde knew that every successful play—no matter how small the gain—would add to Hayden's confidence.

Confidence was everything, Ronde knew. Up until
now, the Rockets had had the Eagles doubting themselves—especially Hayden. Now that the Eagle offense was moving, Ronde could feel the momentum shifting.

He watched as Tiki took the ball again, and drove it down to the five yard line. Ronde could barely contain his excitement. The Eagles were about to score a touchdown, he was sure.

Then it would only be a two-touchdown lead. It was just the first half. The Eagles had come from even further behind this season, so there was no need to panic.

Except for one thing: The defense was going to have to stop North Side cold. They'd already given up seventeen points, but that was because the Rockets had started deep inside Eagle territory due to Hayden's mistakes.

The Eagles could not afford for their QB to keep fumbling and throwing the ball away. He seemed steadier now, throwing another quick pass to Luke at the three. On third down, Coach Wheeler called a rollout.

Felix Amadou was covered in the end zone, and the linebackers weren't fooled by the fake handoff to Tiki. They stayed with Hayden, and brought him down at the five yard line. The Eagles had to settle for a field goal that made the score 17–3.

“Well, we've gotta do what we've gotta do,” Ronde said to himself as he strapped his helmet on. For the Eagles to win, he was going to have to make a big impact on this game—starting right here and now.

The Rockets started their next drive at the thirty yard line. With a two-touchdown lead, they tried to eat up the clock by keeping the ball on the ground. But the Eagles were ready for them, and soon it was third and long.

Here came the pass play, Ronde knew. They'd probably try to keep it simple—a quick throw to avoid the blitz, just long enough for a first down.

Ronde gave his man a hard bump, sending him reeling backward. Then he headed for the forty yard line, which was exactly how far the Rockets needed to get with the pass.

Sure enough, their halfback had sneaked through the Eagle defensive line and now turned quickly to receive the throw. But Ronde was there first, leaping in front of him to grab the ball out of the air for the interception!

It was exactly the break the Eagles needed. No sooner was the offense back on the field than Coach Wheeler called a pass play—this time, going straight for the end zone. And Hayden, suddenly feeling it, threw a perfect strike to Frank Amadou in the corner of the end zone for the touchdown!

By halftime, the score was 17–10, Rockets. But everyone in the Eagle locker room was focused and ready. Nobody crowed, or bragged, or fooled around, or even talked much. They were a bunch of men on a mission.

It wasn't life or death, of course—but it might as well have been. Ronde saw the looks in their eyes, and inside
his heart, he
knew
—this team was not going down in defeat. Not today. Not this game.
No way
.

•  •  •

As Ronde waited for the second half kickoff to come down into his arms, he tried to still his pounding heartbeat. “Breathe,” he told himself. “Breathe . . .”

He took the ball and squeezed it hard to his chest, making sure he had a good grip before he began to run. Somehow, he felt an extra sense of alertness. It was like everyone else was moving in slow motion.

Starting with a stutter step that made two rushers trip over themselves and tumble to the ground, Ronde darted this way and that, spinning away from one tackle, ducking under a leaping rusher, and finally finding a seam of daylight.

That was when he kicked it into high gear. Two more defenders skidded to the ground, grabbing for his legs but ending up clutching nothing but air. Ronde's legs whirred at amazing speed, and everything turned red in his vision as he raced for the end zone!

He felt hands grab his ankles just as he crossed the goal line. Clutching the ball even tighter, he hit the ground hard, but kept possession. Touchdown, Eagles!

The crowd went nuts, and the band launched into a victory march, with the big bass drum pounding. Adam raced onto the field, and his extra point was true, as usual.

Tie game, 17–17! And after the Rocket offense went three and out, it was the Eagles' offense turn.

Ronde couldn't wipe the grin off his face as he stood on the sideline. With the great runback he'd given them, the Eagles had all the momentum now.

Gone was the shaky, tentative, scared quarterback who'd gotten them into the hole.
This
Hayden Brook was playing out of his mind—having the game of his life (or at least the second half of one!). He was throwing pinpoint short passes to Tiki, Luke, and Jonah, mixed in with an occasional long toss to one of the Amadou twins.

North Side's defense was on its heels, panicking. Ronde could see it in their body language. Some of them were yelling at their teammates who'd been caught flat-footed. Turning on one another.

Ronde had seen that kind of behavior before—even among his teammates—when things went wrong. It was never a good thing.

Before the Rockets could make any adjustments, the Eagles had racked up another score, on a mad twenty-yard sideline dash by Tiki.

It was Ronde's turn again. This time he contributed a thundering sack on a blitz, forcing the Rockets to punt after only three plays.

By the fourth quarter, the score was 31–17, Eagles. The Rockets had the ball, but now, fourteen points behind
with only fifteen minutes to play, they had to go to their passing game.

Coach Pellugi put an extra defensive back out there—Rio Ikeda. That made it possible for one of the five to rush the quarterback on every play, and still cover the receivers man-to-man.