The Walk On (31 page)

“Myers, over here!”

Alex trotted over to where Coach Gordon was standing. Matt was next to him. The snow had stopped, but the temperature had dropped since kickoff.

“Matt thinks we need a change of pace on offense,” Coach Gordon said. “Are you ready to play?”

“Give me three warm-up throws and I’ll be set,” Alex said.

Coach Gordon nodded and Alex grabbed Nick Munson, one of the JV receivers who was in uniform, and told him he needed to play catch. Munson shucked the cape he had wrapped around his shoulders and walked over to where Alex would be able to throw to him. Alex was actually able to get five throws in before he saw the offense heading onto the field after the kickoff.

“Run 29 toss to start,” Coach Gordon said.

Alex nodded. In the huddle, he called the play and looked at Craig Josephs.

“You okay, big guy?” he asked.

It had been 28 toss, the same simple pitch play but going the other way, that had led to Craig’s fumble.

“Just pitch it to me, Goldie,” Craig said.

He did and Craig wrapped both arms around the ball and picked up nine yards to the 40.

Jonas, who hadn’t been in for the first play, sprinted onto the field carrying the next one.

“28 toss, X turn in,” he said.

Alex nodded. It was a perfect call. He would fake the same play to Josephs, only going left instead of right, then drop back and look for Jonas—the X receiver running a turn-in pattern over the middle.

The play came off exactly as they had run it in practice—except
for one thing. After Alex hit Jonas in stride at the Chester 42, he ran right through the cornerback’s tackle, cut inside on another potential tackler, and wasn’t brought down until he reached the 21.

The Chester Heights crowd, which had been silent for a long time, was suddenly roaring as the Lions sprinted downfield to huddle up again. The huddle was alive with chatter. After hearing the next call, Alex stepped in and looked around.

“Everyone calm down,” he said, realizing he was giving orders to ten players—Jonas was out of the game again—who were all two or three years older than he was. It didn’t matter. He was the quarterback. As Matt had told him repeatedly, it had to be
his
huddle. Clearly, it was just that. Everyone quieted as he called the play.

Twice in a row they ran options where Alex had to decide as he got to the corner whether to turn upfield or pitch to Josephs. Both times he kept it himself because the defense was keying on Josephs—which made sense. Alex picked up fifteen yards on the two plays to a first down at the six. From there, Josephs did the rest behind the offensive line, bulling to the 2-yard line on first down and then into the end zone.

The quarter ended as he scored. The extra point made it 14–14.

The sideline was alive as the offense came off the field.

“Good job, Myers, very good job,” Coach Gordon said. “Stay ready.”

That meant Matt would be back in on the next offensive series. Alex wasn’t surprised, but he was a little disappointed. Jake, having heard what Coach Gordon said, came up and gave Alex a high five.

“He should keep you in there,” he said.

Alex was surprised. Jake wasn’t just Matt’s best friend; he was also Coach Gordon’s biggest supporter on the team—bigger, Alex often thought, than Matt.

“Matt’s the quarterback—you know that.”

Jake shook his head. “You got us down the field.”

“I threw one pass that you or any of the JV guys would have completed too, and Jonas turned it into a big play.”

“You’re being modest and you know it, Goldie. Jonas was covered pretty well. Matt—or any of us—might not have made the throw. And you made two good option decisions. Coach is right about one thing: you need to stay ready.” Neither offense could do much as the fourth quarter began. It was snowing again and the field was getting slippery. Once, when Matt got to the outside and looked to have a lane, his feet went out from under him. He came up screaming in frustration.

Then, with the clock ticking under five minutes, disaster struck. The Lions had just picked up a first down at their own 46 on another Josephs run. Coach Gordon decided to go with a play-action pass on first down: something he hadn’t called all game—an element of surprise.

Matt expertly pulled the ball out of Josephs’s stomach on the fake, dropped back, and wound up to throw. Out of the corner of his eye, Alex could see that both Jonas and Tom Revere were running behind their defenders. Matt just had to choose which receiver to throw the ball to.

He never got the chance. As he cocked his arm, the ball slipped from his grip. Panicking, he tried to dive on it as it hit the ground, but it squirted loose. A huge pileup ensued, with
much screaming and yelling in the pile. When the officials finally picked everyone off one another, the referee stood up and pointed in the wrong direction.

It was Chester’s ball at the Chester Heights 34. The far side of the field erupted. Alex felt the kind of rush you feel when fear suddenly hits you. He looked at the clock: it was at 4:44. If Chester scored now, it would take something approaching a miracle to save the season.

Matt looked to be near tears as he came to the sideline, tearing the helmet off his head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he said. “
Two
guys open and I blew it!”

Coach Brotman was the first one to meet him. “You didn’t blow anything, Matt. The ball slipped. Stay calm. We’ll get another chance.”

Alex wasn’t so sure about that. Chester picked up a first down at the 21 on two straight rushing plays. Alex remembered hearing the coaches say their kicker had made a forty-two-yard field goal. This might be different, though, because of the conditions. Still, the clock was slipping away. Chester was content to keep running the ball.

The quarterback, Todd Austin, who wasn’t much of a runner, did run—twice—picking up a total of six yards.

The clock was at 2:40 as he was brought down at the 15.

“We’ve got to use a time-out or we’ll have almost nothing on the clock after they score,” Jake said.

Coach Gordon read his mind and called time-out—Chester Heights’ second of the half—with 2:36 to go.

“We have to stop them here,” Alex said. “Or they’ll run the clock all the way down. We’ve only got one time-out left.”

Jake didn’t say anything.

Chester’s coach, Mike Byrnes, apparently had a lot of faith in his field goal kicker, because he ran a straight dive play to get the ball to the middle of the field on third down. The ball was sitting on the 13 and the field goal team came on. Coach Gordon decided to save his last time-out. Chester let the play clock run down to two seconds before snapping the ball. The snap and the hold were perfect—the ball had been dried off by the officials before the play at the request of Chester’s center—and the kick was perfect too. It sailed through the uprights with 1:52 on the clock, making the score 17–14.

Everyone congratulated the defense for holding the Clippers to three, but it wasn’t with much enthusiasm. The Lions would need to drive the ball a long way—barring a long kickoff return—to try to get a tying field goal.

The one-game season was in serious jeopardy.

As the kickoff return team took its place, Alex looked over and saw Coach Gordon with his arms crossed. Matt had his helmet on and was talking to the offense. Surprisingly, Coach Brotman wasn’t talking to the players, but to Coach Gordon.

“Alex, he’s going to put you in,” Jake said softly. “There’s no choice. We have to throw the ball. Matt can’t do it.”

For once, Alex didn’t answer. Jake was right. But there was Matt, helmet on, clearly ready to go back on the field. Before he could say anything, Alex heard Coach Brotman call his name—or nickname, anyway.

“Goldie,” he said. “Over here.”

He jogged over to where the two coaches stood.

Coach Gordon looked at him. “Are you ready to do this?” he asked.

Alex glanced over at Matt, who was a few yards away, hands on his hips. He knew it would break his heart to be taken out at this point. He was tempted to say,
Matt’s the quarterback, Coach
.

Instead, he said very quietly, “If you want me in, Coach, I’m ready.”

Coach Gordon nodded. “We have one time-out left. Two play calls at a time, just like in the King of Prussia game. Do
not
use the time-out unless I signal for it. We need to get at least to the 20.”

“Yes sir.”

Coach Gordon glanced at his son, who had taken his helmet off. He called two plays and sent Alex onto the field.

The kickoff had been returned to the 33. Alex stepped into the huddle and saw all eyes locked on him. No one said a word. “Two plays at a time,” he said. “And
no one
calls a time-out except Coach. We’ve only got one left.”

Alex could see Chester lying back, willing to give him anything over the middle that wasn’t deep. Twice, he took exactly that: a circle pass to Josephs that picked up nine yards, followed by a quick come-back pass to Alan Fitzgerald that picked up another nine. They were in Chester territory at the 49. But the clock was at 1:05 and ticking.

“Spike!” Alex heard Coach Gordon scream. He ran to the line, took the snap from Will Allison, and spiked the ball. Exactly a minute to go.

In came Jonas with two more plays. The first was a draw, which scared Alex. Even if it picked up yardage, it would
keep the clock running. But he wasn’t going to argue at this point. The hole was huge—everyone on defense was dropping back for a pass—and Josephs picked up thirteen yards to the 36.

“Spike!” Coach Gordon yelled again.

Alex complied. There were thirty-nine seconds left.

Coach Gordon sent in a second play call to add to the one already called. Alex thought for a second he saw Crenshaw open over the middle but then saw the safety creeping up and looked away. He saw Jonas, who had been running a deep route, running back in his direction, hand up. He rifled a pass, which Jonas dove for and caught at the 25.

First down.

“Spike!”

Alex spiked the ball and looked up. There were twenty-two seconds left, twenty-five yards to go. But they were almost in field goal range.

The next call was for Josephs, the circle play that had worked so well. But he slipped coming out of the backfield. Alex scrambled quickly to his right and aimed a pass at Fitzgerald near the sideline. It sailed just over his hands. That stopped the clock at sixteen seconds.

Third down. They needed to pick up at least five yards—ten would be a lot better—and then use their time-out to get Pete Ross on the field for the field goal. Coach Gordon was thinking just that and called a double-slant route for Jonas and Revere. Each player was to try to go downfield five yards and slant to the middle, and—with luck—one would open up at about the 15 at either the left or the right hash mark.
It wouldn’t be a perfect angle, but Ross was deadly accurate within his range.

As soon as Alex took the snap, he was in trouble. Knowing he wasn’t going to throw deep, the Chester defensive coordinator had blitzed both safeties. Alex saw them coming before he even had a chance to look downfield. He tried to step up between them, but one of them got to him. Alex pulled his arm down so he wouldn’t fumble and went down in a heap at the twenty-nine-yard line.

Even though he knew he was supposed to let Coach Gordon call the last time-out, he didn’t wait to hear anything from the sideline because he knew if he didn’t call time-out the clock would run to zero.

“TIME-OUT!” he screamed.

The referee waved his arms to signal a time-out.

The clock stopped at six seconds. They were outside of Ross’s range by a good fifteen yards. It was fourth and fourteen.

When Alex trotted to the sideline to consult with the coaches, he was greeted by three people: Coach Gordon, Coach Brotman, and Matt Gordon. Pete Ross was standing a couple steps away in case the coaches decided their best chance was a very long field goal.

“Any chance you can get it there, Pete?” Coach Gordon was saying as Alex arrived.

“If I hit it exactly right,” Pete answered—without a lot of confidence in his tone.

That did not appear to be the answer Coach Gordon was looking for. He turned to Coach Brotman, Matt, and Alex.