The Walk On (11 page)

Even though he knew he wasn’t likely to play much—if at all—Alex was excited by Friday afternoon. They’d all worn their jerseys to school and for the first time Alex felt a bit less invisible.

Last period was canceled for a pep rally in the auditorium. The players lined up outside the auditorium doors: freshmen first, then sophomores, and on up the line, except for junior Matt Gordon, who would go last as the offensive captain—and the star of the team.

“When you hear Coach Gordon call your name, remember, you jog out, you shake hands with him at the podium, then you jog up one aisle and circle back down the other, go up the steps on the other side of the stage,” Coach Dixon said, “then go to the back of the stage and line up there until everyone’s been introduced.”

They had been prepped on this after practice twice already. They could hear the buzz inside the auditorium. Apparently, Mr. White was warming up the crowd for Coach Gordon.

Coach Dixon looked at Matt Gordon and Gerry Detwiler, the captains. “You two ready?” he asked. “You know what you’re going to say?”

“Yeah,” Gordon answered. “We’re going to tell all the girls to come tonight and tell all the guys to stay home.”

That got a laugh from the players.

Alex had wondered that first day of practice how Gordon and Detwiler were already the captains. Some coaches let the players vote. According to Bilney, Matt had asked his dad why he didn’t and Coach Gordon had said, “Football teams aren’t democracies. They’re dictatorships.”

The funny thing was that if Coach Gordon had allowed the players to vote, Alex was sure the results would have been the same: Detwiler was clearly the leader of the defense and everyone on the team looked up to Matt Gordon, even though he was a junior.

Alex heard wild cheering coming from inside, which meant Coach Gordon had been introduced. Coach Dixon opened the door so they could hear their names as they were called. Alex was right behind Jonas—third in line.

“We need you all out there tonight,” he could hear Coach Gordon saying. “We have an outstanding football team, one that’s going to make you proud. But there are
no
easy games. We need your spirit and your growls and your roars.

“Now, without further delay, let me introduce the 2014 Lions!”

Everyone in the room—or so it seemed to Alex—roared wildly. Alex could see that Coach Gordon had a stack of three-by-five cards—one, he assumed, for each player. He nudged Jonas.

“See the cards he’s got?” he said.

Jonas nodded.

“I’ll bet mine says, ‘Will play over my dead body.’ ”

“Nah,” Jonas said. “If Matt runs away from home and Bilney is crippled for life, he’ll put you in.”

When Coach Gordon got to Jonas he said, “Maybe the fastest player I’ve ever coached. You are all going to love him. He’s a six two, 155-pound freshman, when he’s soaking wet—let’s welcome to Chester Heights number eighty-three, Jonas Ellington!”

Jonas jogged out to the stage as instructed and shook hands with his coach, who clapped him on the back, and then headed down the steps to the middle aisle, where kids were practically climbing over one another to high-five him or slap him on the back as he made his way toward the back of the auditorium.

Alex was next.

“A six one freshman quarterback, Alex Myers.”

That didn’t take long, Alex thought as he headed into the auditorium to near silence. He stopped at the podium to
shake hands with Coach Gordon, who barely looked up at him. Apparently, Alex didn’t move on quickly enough because Coach Myers turned his head away from the mike and said quietly, “Keep moving, Myers. Lot of players still left.”

Alex jogged down the aisle and got a couple of high fives and an isolated roar here and there as he went. He could hear Coach Gordon’s introduction of Stephen Harvey, the only defensive player among the four freshmen. “He’s only a freshman, but he’s going to be a terror at linebacker in the near future.…”

The enthusiasm was back in his voice. Alex couldn’t help but laugh. But he wasn’t at all sure what was funny.

Once Alex had taken his place onstage next to Jonas, the rest of Coach Gordon’s introductions seemed to take forever. He couldn’t help but notice that there was a one-liner of some kind about every player on the team. Even guys who played on special teams got some kind of complimentary mention: “He’s always the first guy down the field on kickoffs.…”

The last two players introduced were the captains. Gerry Detwiler spoke briefly, telling the crowd, “We may get scored on this season, but it won’t be often, and I
promise
they’ll pay a price every time they do!”

The biggest roar was for Matt Gordon. His father’s introduction was direct: “The quarterback who is going to lead
your
team to a state championship … MATT GORDON!”

Half the kids were on their feet as Matt jogged onto the stage. A lot of the girls whooped and shrieked.

“That’s you two years from now,” Jonas whispered as Gordon took the microphone from his beaming father.

“Maybe at another school,” Alex answered.

Matt Gordon didn’t talk for very long, but he hit all the right notes. “I just want to say that we are going to do everything in our power to win every single game we play this season. We believe we’re good enough to do that, but we
can’t
do it unless we come ready to play—and
you
come ready to play—against Mercer tonight.”

Wild cheering and cries of “We’re with you, Matt!” came from the crowd.

Finally Matt did a semi-turn so he could face the other players on the stage. “Gentlemen, Gerry and I are
honored
to be your captains. It will be the thrill of my life to lead all of you onto that field tonight. Let’s GO!”

On cue, even though it hadn’t been planned, he and Detwiler moved to the middle of the stage, hands in the air so that their teammates could join them. Everyone crowded around them, and Matt said, “On three—Lions all the way!”

Just as they did that, Alex heard a noise coming from the back of the room and looked up to see a swarm of cheerleaders tumbling and bouncing down both aisles. They were followed by the band, playing a marching-band version of “Welcome to the Jungle.” The cheerleaders whipped up the crowd from in front of the stage and the band members filled the aisles, and the whole auditorium was in motion.

“Was it like this at your old school?” Alex whispered to Jonas, a little stunned.

“Nope.” Jonas grinned.

When the song ended, Coach Gordon came back to the microphone.

“Everyone on their feet for the Chester Heights fight song!” he said.

Everyone
was
on their feet. Alex couldn’t make out all the words, but there seemed to be a lot about snarling and clawing and
roar
was frequently rhymed with
score
. The fight song also came complete with hand motions that everyone clearly knew.

With a final roar still in the air, Coach Gordon declared the pep rally over and said he couldn’t wait for tonight.

Neither could Alex. At least he’d have a good view of the game.

As Matt Gordon had predicted, the game was over before halftime. Mercer had no size, no speed, and little talent. On the other hand, they did have a really good band.

Alex had lots of time to evaluate both bands as he watched the game from the sideline. He also had time to stew over the fact that his father hadn’t managed to come to the game. He tried really hard to focus. As a quarterback, he was given a headset so he could listen to Coach Hillier, who was sitting up in the press box, suggest plays to Coach Gordon on the sideline. Coach Gordon rotated wide receivers in and out of the game to get the plays in to Matt.

“No headset inside the QB’s helmet?” Alex asked.

Jake shook his head. “Some states have gone to headsets in high school,” he said. “Not here.”

“Last year the running backs brought in the plays. I bet
he’s using wide receivers now so he can play Jonas a lot without actually listing him as a one,” Jake said.

Jonas was listed with the second team on the depth chart, but he was in for two of every three plays under the rotation system Coach Gordon was using.

By halftime, Chester Heights led 42–0 and Coach Gordon still had all the starters in the game.

Matt Gordon had run for four touchdowns and had thrown two touchdown passes—both to Jonas, one on an eighty-yard play right after a Mercer punt. It was already 21–0 at that point, and it was apparent that Matt could run the ball for at least eight to ten yards anytime he wanted. He took the shotgun snap and ran to his left, then—as the defense closed on him—he suddenly dropped back three steps and unloaded a pass downfield that went so high into the air that Alex thought it might bring rain.

Against a good team, the pass might have been intercepted or at least knocked down because the defenders would have had time to get back to where it came spiraling down. But there wasn’t a Mercer player within ten yards of Jonas, who waited patiently for the ball and then sprinted, untouched, into the end zone.

“These guys are really bad,” Jake said. “That ball could have been intercepted easily if they had anybody on the field with any speed.”

“Except that Jonas would have outjumped them all,” Alex said.

“True,” Jake replied as they watched Matt and Jonas being mobbed as they came to the sideline. “He’s our best asset.”

Alex looked sideways at Jake to see if he was joking. He didn’t appear to be.

“Well, the good news is, you’ll get a lot of playing time tonight,” Alex said. “You’ll probably start the second half.”

“Don’t count on it,” Jake said. “Coach Gordon isn’t big on backing off. He wants to see our name in those
USA Today
rankings.”

Every week,
USA Today
ranked the top twenty-five high school teams in the country. Alex wasn’t quite sure how they could compare teams playing in a private-school league in California with a public-school team in Florida, but they did it anyway. Chester Heights had been listed that week under “others receiving votes,” and Coach Gordon had mentioned that in his pregame talk.

“You want to be a ranked team?” he had asked. “You want to see our school’s name in
USA Today
next week? You better go out and play like you deserve it tonight.”

With a forty-two-point lead, Alex would have expected a fairly calm halftime locker room. He also would have expected the coaches to be talking to the twos about getting into the game soon.

He was wrong on both counts.

When the players assembled in the middle of the locker room and the doors were shut, Coach Gordon turned to Coach Gutekunst and said, “Coach, how many yards did we give up in the first half?”

“Eighty-four, Coach. Thirty-nine on one play.”

Alex remembered the play. Mercer had faced a third and twelve from its own 8-yard line and the quarterback had managed to scramble free of the pass rush and find a receiver
open for a first down at the 47-yard line. On the next play, a Mercer running back had fumbled, Chester Heights had recovered, and no harm had been done.

Until now.

“Thomason, was that your responsibility?” Coach Gordon said, looking at one of the starting cornerbacks.

“Yes sir.”

“How did the receiver get so wide open?”

“I slipped.”

“You
what
?”

“I slipped, sir. He made a cut and my feet went out from under me. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”
Coach Gordon roared. “You’re
sorry
? When we’re playing Chester for the league title and you slip, is that what you’re going to tell your teammates—that you’re sorry?”

Thomason hung his head. He was smart enough to know that there wasn’t any answer that was going to get him off the hook.

Coach Gordon was pacing now.

“I know you twos are looking at the scoreboard and thinking you’re about to get in the game.” He shook his head. “Sorry. It isn’t your fault the ones aren’t performing. They’re going to stay in until they get it right. If you’re unhappy about that, talk to them.”

He turned to walk away.

“Coaches.”

The coaches followed him to a meeting room. Matt Gordon and Gerry Detwiler were on their feet as soon as he left.