The Roar of the Crowd (7 page)

The defense finally stiffened, with Anthony making consecutive tackles to leave Palisades with a third-and-eight at the Hudson City 24.

“Toughen up!” Manny yelled, feeling every bit a part of the action now. “Watch for that quick pass!”

The Palisades quarterback dropped back, looking toward the sideline. His favorite receiver was open, but the pass was wobbly and he had to backtrack to get to the ball. That split second gave Fiorelli enough time to get there first, deflecting the ball just as the receiver reached it. The pass fell incomplete.

Fourth down. Too far for a field goal. Palisades tried another pass play, but the ball was overthrown. Hudson City was back on offense.

With a two-touchdown lead, the Hornets played a ball-control offense, sticking with the running game that had worked so well in the first half. Jared Owen carried on four straight plays, moving the ball back into Palisades’ territory. Then DiMarco found his favorite receiver, Jason Fiorelli, on a 25-yard pass over the middle.

That big pass play seemed to deflate the Palisades’ defense. Owen took the next handoff straight up the middle and dashed into the secondary, making a lightning-quick cut toward the sideline and running it in for a touchdown. DiMarco’s kick made it 20–0, and Hudson City seemed headed for a certain victory.

“Our turn!” Manny said as the kickoff team took its place.

As the ball was kicked, Manny burst into high gear. A blocker was coming straight toward him, but Manny dodged right past him and zeroed in on the ball carrier, who was coming up his side of the field this time.

Both players were going full speed, and Manny braced for the impact. When they were 2 yards apart, Manny left his feet, driving his shoulder into the return man’s waist and grabbing him with both arms.

Manny heard the
ooof!
as the runner took the blow and the
crack
as his pads hit the turf. But something else had happened: the ball had popped loose. Donald had it, and Manny scrambled to his feet as he watched his friend running toward the end zone.

Manny couldn’t believe it. Donald was going to score! He was 5 yards ahead of his nearest pursuer and running at full stride. He crossed the 10-yard line, then the 5. Touchdown!

Manny tried to yell but he couldn’t. He raced over to Donald and grabbed him as Donald leaped into the air. The entire kickoff team was in the end zone now, shouting and swinging their fists.

Donald held the ball above his head and ran toward the sideline. The referee shouted at him to give up the ball, and Donald turned and tossed it over.

Teammates from the bench mobbed Donald. Coach Reynolds had come partway onto the field and put up a hand to stop Manny. “Great job, Manny!” he said. “Stay in there for the conversion. I told DiMarco what to call.”

Manny ran back onto the field. The offense was huddled up near the goal line. DiMarco grabbed Manny’s jersey and pulled him in.

“Remember that wingback pitch we ran in practice?” he said.

Manny nodded.

“We’re running it now,” DiMarco said. “Just follow me right over Anthony. Let’s get you into the end zone.”

Manny couldn’t believe it. He’d made the big hit on the kickoff, and here was his reward. A chance to score. He gulped and took his position behind the tight end. His palms were sweaty, but he’d hold on to that ball.

DiMarco called signals and took the snap. Manny pivoted and grabbed the ball that was floating toward him. He cut into the line behind DiMarco. A defensive lineman had broken through, getting a hand on Manny’s arm. Manny shook it off and squirted through the opening as players grunted and pushed and grabbed at him.

Beneath his feet he saw the goal line. Two defenders were on him, one hitting him high and the other low. Manny was going down, but it didn’t matter. He was already in the end zone. He’d scored!

He heard the whistle blow and looked up, seeing the referee with his hands raised above his head. Two points!

Anthony grabbed Manny by the arms and pulled him to his feet, lifting him into the air. Teammates smacked his helmet and hooted. Manny felt tears in his eyes. This was more than he’d dreamed of.

The scoreboard changed from 26–0 to 28–0 as Manny jogged up the field for the kickoff. Donald was racing across from the sideline and came flying into him, nearly knocking him to the ground.

“You’re awesome, Manny!” Donald said. “We’re awesome! Let’s score another one. Right now!”

M
anny sat on the living room couch with a bag of ice on his wrist. The injury was no big deal—he didn’t even remember how it had happened—but Coach Reynolds had told him to ice it as a precaution. Sal sat right beside his older brother, looking at him in awe.

“That was the best game I ever saw, Manny,” Sal said. “I couldn’t believe it when you scored that touchdown.”

Manny laughed. “It wasn’t quite a touchdown, buddy. Just a two-point conversion.”

“Just as good,” Sal said. “Unbelievable. That was the play of the year!”

Dad grabbed Manny’s shoulder and shook it gently. “I couldn’t be prouder,” he said. “You really were awesome this afternoon.”

“Thanks,” Manny said.

Hudson City had tacked on another touchdown and won the game, 34–0. Manny hadn’t made any more tackles, but he and Donald did get in at linebacker for the closing series. All in all, it had been an incredible day.

The Giants were playing a late game today, taking on the Seahawks at four P.M. The family had gathered to watch the game, but most of their conversation was about the earlier game—the one in which Manny had emerged as a player.

Coach Reynolds had said after the game how proud he was of every player, especially the ones who’d taken advantage of the rare chance to play. “We’ve got a full team of reliable players now,” he’d said. “There’ll be plenty of playing time for everybody from here on out.”

Most of the team planned to meet at McDonald’s in the early evening, and this time Manny would be going. The coach had said they could even wear their game jerseys, as long as they promised not to get ketchup or mustard on them.

So after the Giants game, Manny put his jersey back on over his clothes. It was made of material that stretched to cover the shoulder pads, but it was still pretty huge without them. Manny didn’t care. He didn’t care, either, that the jersey was dirty. In fact, he was very proud of that dirt. If the jersey had still been clean, he wouldn’t be going to McDonald’s to hang out with the rest of the team.

“I won’t be late,” Manny said to his parents. “Just going to get a hamburger and a milk shake.”

“You earned it,” Mom said. “Go have a blast.”

“I will.”

“You’re great, Manny!” shouted Sal.

“So are you, buddy.”

Manny stepped out of the house and looked around. The sky was getting dark and there was a cool breeze. The maples were beginning to show traces of autumn color, but none of the leaves had fallen yet. There was still a long time left before winter. Still a lot of football games.

McDonald’s was about six blocks from the house, near the edge of town. Manny started walking that way, toward the lights of the Boulevard. But he turned onto a side street and began to jog, still feeling a lot of energy, still wanting to move.

Here came that pitchout again, that moment of highlight-film intensity when Manny’s whole universe was focused on the football. He grabbed it and cut toward the line, following DiMarco and Anthony, hearing the crashing of helmets and pads ahead of him, tearing loose from the grip of the defensive lineman.

And then the goal line beneath his feet, that hot-and-cold sensation in his gut that told him he’d scored, that the two points he’d put up on the scoreboard could never be erased. He’d done something big—bigger than he’d done in his whole, entire life. And this was only the beginning. Football, soccer, cross-country running. Whatever he chose to go after, he’d go after it in a big way.

Again he relived that play, again he felt that surge of adrenaline and the satisfaction of a big-time effort. And then he was running down that field again, this time dodging blockers and zeroing in on the kickoff-return man, smacking him hard and jolting the football from his grasp.

Manny was sweating now; he’d run farther than he needed to. McDonald’s was two blocks behind him and one block over. He didn’t care. He raised his arms above his head and jogged in the middle of the nearly dark side street. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and smiled with the satisfaction of an athlete.

The breeze was blowing harder now, rustling the leaves above him as he ran. He wasn’t ready for McDonald’s just yet, wasn’t ready to join his teammates. He needed a few more minutes alone, to feel his body moving, to make today’s memories permanent.

He picked up his pace for a couple of blocks, opening his stride and running like a back in the open. He inhaled deeply and listened to the night, to the familiar hissing and whistling of the wind in the treetops. It sounded just right as he sprinted along the backstreet.

It sounded like a football stadium.

It sounded like “Manny!”

It sounded like the roar of the crowd.

 

READ AN EXCERPT FROM
TECHNICAL FOUL
WINNING SEASON #2!

Hudson City had cut the lead to one point. This defensive sequence would make the difference. “Stop ’em!” came Spencer’s cry.

Half a minute remained. The ball came in to the Memorial center. He turned and faked to his left, but Jared had been watching that move all day. When the center pivoted to his right to shoot, Jared was ready. He leaped and blocked the shot, swatting it cleanly toward the sideline. Spencer got to it first, and Hudson City had a chance to win.

Spencer dribbled past midcourt and called Hudson City’s final time-out.

“Get the ball inside,” Coach Davis said in the huddle. He tapped Jared’s chest with a finger. “We’re putting this on you, Jared. You win this game for us. You do it.”

Jared swallowed hard, but he wasn’t nervous. He wanted that ball.
Let the guy grab me,
Jared thought.
Let him foul me, let him try to stop me. I’m going to score.

“De-
fense
!” came the chant from the bleachers. “De-
fense
!”

And when the ball came to Jared, he did what he needed to do. Up and over his defender, who pushed back and grunted, leaving his feet and reaching toward the backboard. Jared’s shot was clean and sure, drifting above his opponent’s hands and into the basket. Hudson City was back in the lead.

Memorial frantically brought the ball up with the seconds ticking away. A long shot at the buzzer fell short. The spectators were suddenly silent.

Jared pumped his fist and hugged Spencer. Hudson City was back in business.

“That’s it. That’s the Hudson City way,” said Fiorelli as they walked off the court. “They’re like, ‘We’ll stuff these guys. We can hold and foul and talk trash all day,’ and we’re like, ‘Talk all you want. We’ll put it right back in your face.’ ”

Fiorelli turned to Jared and gave him a hard high five. “That’s right,
Mr. T
!” he said. “You! You! You! You showed ’em. You did.”

Jared didn’t say anything. He just smiled broadly and shook his coach’s hand as the team made its way to the bus.

ALSO BY RICH WALLACE

Winning Season Series