The Late Hit Page 3

  We line up again. Same play. I signal for two linemen to block 46 on the right. I can see his back foot turn that way. Anton steps back and throws, but it’s weak and low. One of the Titans’ players picks off the ball.

  I turn and chase, but Ellison Green takes me down. And just like that, the Titans are ahead. They kick the extra point and it’s 7–0.

  Our crowd is quiet; I feel the disappointment in the air. We should’ve scored first. This is our field. This is our school.

  Chapter 14

  After Anton throws another interception that the Titans run back for a touchdown, we’re down even further. They kick the extra point to make it 14–0.

  Coach pulls Anton out and puts Corbin in. He’s never pulled Anton before, and Anton slumps down on the bench, hanging his head.

  “You’ve got to push through whatever fog you’re in,” I say when I’m back on the sideline. “We need you in this game.”

  Anton nods at this but doesn’t look up. I want to shake him; he’s only half here, but he knows how important this game is. We need to get points up on the board. We need to win.

  “We run the ball,” Coach says at the start of the second quarter. He’s got at least three sticks of gum in his mouth, which isn’t a good sign. His cinnamon breath hangs in the air, and it feels like it could burn you if you get too close. “Corbin is going to throw short, quick passes, and the receivers are going to run like they’ve never run before. You need to be strong out there. Poke some holes in their defense. Our main objective right now is to hold onto the ball and move it down the field.”

  We all nod at this and head back out. As we walk across the field, I warn Corbin about 46. Corbin can’t weigh more than 145 pounds, and I know Green will crush him like an aluminum can if he gets the chance.

  Corbin lines up and messes up the first play. He looks to pitch a lateral left, but he’s supposed to go right, and when he can’t find his man, he panics, steps back, and holds onto the ball too long.

  Ellison Green rushes our line. I throw my body in front of him in an attempt to stop him from sacking Corbin. Green stumbles and falls on top of me. As we go crashing to the ground, I spin around to take one last look at Corbin before I’m pinned facedown beneath number 46.

  Green pretends to struggle to get up, but what he’s really doing is pressing down on my helmet so my face mask digs into the turf. I finally get out from under him and push him in the chest, knocking him on his butt.

  A ref calls a penalty on me and we lose fifteen yards. I know Coach is probably really mad.

  I don’t even look over at the sideline. I just head over to the huddle and wipe the grass and dirt from my mask.

  “What is Coach calling?” Corbin says to me. “What play is that.”

  I look over and see Anton standing next to Coach. At first, I think he’s going to send Anton back in, but then I realize we don’t have time.

  “A screen pass,” I say as I lock eyes with Anton and he nods. I know Anton called the play, which is a good sign. He’s got his head back in the game. He knows we can’t beat the Titans physically, but we can turn their strength against them with a little deception.

  “We got this,” I say to Corbin. “Just stay calm and cool. This play is fun.”

  “Fun?” Corbin mumbles.

  “Lots of fun,” I say with a smile.

  Corbin takes the snap, and our linemen spring into action. I act like I’m going to step up to block Ellison Green, but instead I roll out into the flat. Green runs past me, and he and the defensive line head straight toward Corbin who is holding onto the ball. But when they get close, Corbin lofts a short pass over their heads. I catch it and run behind three of our blockers. They all go low and hard and make perfect blocks. I run down the sideline. It’s just me and the Titans’ safety. One on one. I can’t outrun him, so at the last minute I bend my knees, lower my shoulder, and run right into his chest. He stumbles backward and falls. I stay on my feet and accelerate into the end zone.

  Touchdown!

  And the kick is good.

  Titans 14. Wolves 7.

  Our fans howl. They roar. And I hold up the ball for them all to see. I feel like we can win this—like we have a chance.

  Chapter 15

  Anton is smiling at me when I get back to the bench.

  “You got us on the board,” he says. He seems like he wants back in the game, but Corbin has earned some plays. Coach doesn’t put Anton back in.

  Right before halftime, Corbin stumbles and panics again. He tries to run with the ball, but Green knocks through our offensive line. When I go low to stop him, he leaps right over me and sacks Corbin. Bam! Corbin fumbles the ball and falls to the ground as the Titans pounce on it.

  I look back over at Corbin. Ellison Green is on top of him. When he stands up, I see Green step on Corbin’s hand and lean into his cleat with all his weight. Corbin cries out in pain, and Green puts his arms up like he’s sorry. Like it was an accident. But I saw it all and I know better. I go after him, push him from behind, and another penalty gets called on me. Me! Nothing is called against him even though Corbin is writhing in pain on the field.

  I argue with the referee. I point to Corbin’s hand, but the ref threatens to kick me out of the game. Coach benches me until I calm down. With a minute left on the clock, the Titans march down the field and kick a field goal.

  At the end of the half we are down 17–7.

  Chapter 16

  In the locker room during halftime, our team looks like we’ve been smashing into a brick wall. We are battered and bruised. Corbin is soaking his hand in a pail of ice. When he pulls it out, it’s red and swollen. I can tell it’s broken from my seat on the bench six feet away.

  “Don’t take me out,” Corbin pleads. “I can’t throw, but I feel like I could take someone down right now.”

  Coach puts his hand on Corbin’s shoulder, “You need an X-ray.”

  “I’m not leaving this game.”

  “I’m not putting you back in,” Coach says, and he starts to wrap Corbin’s hand. I can see the pain in Corbin’s face, and I want to take Ellison Green down and squash his nose.

  When he’s done with Corbin’s hand, Coach looks up at all of us.

  “You can’t play angry or reckless out there. You have to play for the love of the game, for the love of this school. If you play for revenge, you’ll play dumb, and we’ll lose. Play smart. Play focused. Play strong.”

  As we put our helmets back on and get ready to take the field again, I see Coach talking to Anton, and I see Anton nodding his head.

  “What did he say?” I ask Anton as we walk back on the field.

  “He wants me to throw some long passes.”

  “You’ve got this,” I say to him.

  “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t trust my throwing tonight. I told Coach to keep calling trick plays. We need to throw the Titans off. Do things they don’t expect. I need to warm my arm back up.”

  “You’ve got this,” I say. “We’ve got this.”

  “We do.” Anton nods, and we head back to the field.

  Chapter 17

  The Titans kick. Our returner runs out-of-bounds at the ten-yard line. We have a long way to go, but we are determined. Play after play, first down after first down, we push until we are in Titans territory.

  At third and twenty, we are winded but still pushing. Anton pretends the ball is tucked under his arm, but he has quietly set the ball on the ground. He looks like he’s going to run, but as the Titans’ defense approaches, he shows his hands. No football. One of our lineman, Reece Larsen, has picked it up, tucked it under his arm, and started running down the field.

  The Titans didn’t see it coming. When they finally go after Reece, it’s too late.

  Touchdown!

  The Titans cry foul, but it’s a legal play. The ball touched the ground first. Green is mad. He’s yelling about cheap tricks. Kicking at the turf. Spitting on the ground. The ref sends him to the bench.


  Coach calls for a two-point conversion. The Titans form a wall, but we move as if we are one giant beast. Our receiver crosses over the line and Anton throws the ball in a spectacular arc that lands right in our receiver’s hands.

  Titans 17. Wolves 15.

  We are back.

  Chapter 18

  At the start of the fourth quarter Coach calls me over.

  Number 23 and Ellison Green are both heading out on the field.

  “I’m going to keep sending you out there on defense,” Coach says. “Keep your eyes on 23. Their QB is going to throw him the ball.”

  I can feel myself starting to drag, but I know that if Anton can push through, I can too.

  The Titans line up and they don’t look tired at all. They look like it’s the start of the first half. The Titans QB throws a pass right to number 23, and I go after him, but he outmaneuvers me, catches the ball, and runs down the field for another touchdown.

  Titans 23. Wolves 15.

  I feel like I’ve let everyone down. I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve watched him more carefully. We were so close; now it feels so far away, but Anton has our bench pumped up.

  “We can do this,” he’s yelling. “It isn’t over. We can pull out the win. Dig. Dig deep!”

  Anton’s energy is contagious. When the Titans try to go for the conversion, we stop them in their tracks. During our possession Anton throws a nice twenty-yard pass, but the Titans’ defense starts going after our receivers. If we keep trying to throw, there’s a chance the ball will get intercepted again, so now we have to try running the ball. We make it down to the thirty-yard line and kick a field goal.

  We are still behind as the Titans take possession of the ball. They run it down the field and work to burn time off the clock, but I decide to channel Ellison Green. At third and ten at the fifty-yard line, I power into their offensive line, find a hole, and sack their quarterback. He fumbles the ball, and I pounce on it and don’t let go.

  Coach calls a timeout.

  “You still have legs?” He asks me. I’m tired. I’m sore. I’ve been playing both ways all game, but I look at him and nod my head. “Yes.”

  “Then you are going back in.” He then looks at Anton. “You are going to throw that ball with all you’ve got. I want all the receivers down in the end zone. Anton is going to throw, and one of you is going to catch it. That is our play. Throw and catch.”

  Anton looks energized and confident as we head out.

  “You’re back,” I say.

  “I am,” he says. “Just buy me a little time.”

  The center makes a sloppy snap to Anton, but he catches it with one hand. It takes him a second to get his balance back. I get ready to block. Anton needs some time.

  Our lineman smash with all their might into the Titans’ defense as three receivers run down the field. I’m supposed to run too, but I see that Green has broken through. He’s going to take Anton down. Somebody has to stop him. I have to stop him. So I put my shoulder down and block him with everything I’ve got. We push against each other. I hold him in place for a few seconds. Just as Anton launches the ball, Ellison Green gets loose and nails Anton with a late hit.

  Anton didn’t see Green coming. He flies backward and the back of his head crashes against the ground. No one else seems to see Anton’s fall; everyone else is watching the ball and then the catch. Everyone in the stands is jumping up and down. Our team is in the end zone celebrating. We’ve scored with two seconds left on the clock. We’ve won.

  I run over to Anton. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t respond, and when he finally opens his eyes, he looks like he doesn’t know where he is. But he reaches for me, and I help him sit up.

  “You okay?” I ask him.

  “Did we win?”

  I laugh at this and say, “Yeah, man. We won. We’re going on to the playoffs.”

  “We won?” He asks again as I help him stand up. He’s wobbly and leans on me.

  “Yeah,” I say. I feel like I’m talking to a little kid. Our team runs down the field and sweeps us up. Then we are all mobbed by the fans from the student section rushing onto the field. Suddenly Ciara is standing in front of me. Her arms loop around my neck, and she’s hugging me and saying, “Nice job, Malcolm Busby. Nice game!”

  Chapter 19

  In the locker room Anton looks pale, but he’s smiling.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask.

  “Like I got run over by a truck.”

  He lies down on the bench, but the other guys from our team pull him back up. They make him celebrate. They jostle him around. He’s usually the one leading the celebration party in the locker room, but now he’s flopping around like a rag doll, trying to break loose so he can sit back down.

  “Playoffs! Playoffs!” the team starts to chant.

  “The pack is back!” someone else yells.

  Anton sits back down on the bench. He drinks from his water bottle.

  “You’re acting like we lost!” Junior scowls at him.

  “Just worn out,” Anton says. “Celebrating inside.”

  He puts a fist against his heart.

  Junior laughs.

  We keep celebrating and Coach doesn’t even try to give a speech; he just writes across the white board in bright red letters: playoffs. be ready. next friday night. this is our year. Anton tries to smile and howl with the rest of us, but I can see he’s in pain. I find him some more aspirin and get him some water. I take a couple of pills too—my shoulder is killing me.

  The shower makes me feel a little bit better, but when I get out, I find Anton still in his uniform, sitting on the bench. Most of our team is already changed and heading out to Pizza Barn.

  “You want me to bring you home?” I ask Anton.

  “Nah,” he says. “Free pizza tonight.”

  Herb Cozzette, the owner of Pizza Barn, promised to feed our team and fans for free if we made it into the playoffs this year.

  “Hurry up, then,” I say to Anton.

  By the time he’s finally showered and dressed, we are the last ones out of the locker room, and Coach is waiting outside to lock up.

  “Boys,” he says to us. “You made me proud tonight. You worked hard. You didn’t give up.” Then he looks at Anton. “How are you feeling? I’ve been told you took a hit right at the end. Nothing we can do about it now, but I want to make sure you are okay.”

  “I’ll be good in the morning,” Anton says, forcing a smile. “No big deal.”

  “You rest up. Take it easy this weekend.”

  Anton nods at this.

  When we get to his truck, he hands me his keys again and crawls into the passenger side. As he closes his eyes he mumbles, “Just when the headache was finally gone, I get smacked in the head again. Ellison Green is lucky he graduates this year. He’d get taken out by our team if we ever played him again.”

  I feel bad for not stopping Green, and I can tell this second hit was a hard one. Anton’s face is a dull gray color. His words are slightly slurred. I’m a little worried about him.

  Chapter 20

  We are the last ones to arrive. There’s a bonfire burning in the parking lot, and music blaring from the speakers of someone’s car. It has been years since the Wolves have made it to the playoffs, but we’ve finally done it again.

  I hear people talking about us making it to state, and I know it’s a long shot, but I feel like anything is possible after tonight’s game. We pulled out a win against one of the best Northern teams in the state. We beat the Titans. And I hope Ellison Green is crying into his pillow somewhere.

  Herb is standing up on a picnic table. A huge grin on his face. “Busby, number 50, and Anton, number 12, get on up here! Where have you been? We’ve been waiting for you to arrive.”

  Anton and I look at each other, but we don’t say anything as we head over to the table. Anton is a little wobbly getting up. I try to hide my concern from everybody else, but Herb notices.

  “My pizza will cure him i
n no time,” Herb whispers to us. “He needs to get his strength back.”

  When we are both on top of the table, Herb’s wife hands him two pizzas with our numbers written out in pepperoni.

  “I’m proud of these kids,” Herb says, and the crowd quiets down. “I’m proud of this team,” and then he looks at Anton and everyone waits for him to say something, but he just stands there completely silent for a minute.

  “Thank you,” he finally says, shaking Herb’s hand. “Thank you everyone for coming out to tonight’s game.” Then he nods at me.

  “Busby! Busby! Busby!” the crowd chants.

  For the second time today, I watch Anton leave a crowd primed for a speech. He steps down from the table and hands his pizza to Junior before disappearing into the crowd. He leaves me just standing there.

  “Uhh, thank you for coming out and supporting us.” My voice is quiet and unsure. I don’t think I like being the spokesperson for the team. Anton definitely does a better job.

  “Louder,” someone yells.

  So I look at that crowd, I look at my teammates and think what would Anton do? I immediately know the answer. I tilt my head back and yell at the top of my lungs: “The Wolves live on!”

  The crowd lets out a howl and I howl too. I hope the town hears our voices rise up in the night air. The Warren Wolves aren’t going to be stopped. We are still strong.

  Feeling like I’ve done my job, I start to get down, but Coach climbs up on the table and makes me stay. “I have the game ball right here.” The crowd claps. “And tonight’s game ball goes to Busby. He played defense and offense. He was out on the field leading this team. He got us our first touchdown. And got us fired up! So this is for you.”

  He hands me the ball and I hold it up.

  “Busby! Busby!” the crowd chants again. And I want to keep winning. I want to keep playing. I want our team to make it all the way to state.