by Cassie Cole
It would only be amazing if it worked.
“Damn, Roberta!” Aly said. “What did you tell him at halftime to make him risk his knee?”
I frowned as San Antonio’s offense took the field. “It wasn’t him I talked to.”
Nicky Tarkenton huddled up with the team and called a play. His demeanor as he took his position behind the center was strange. Like he was trying hard to be aloof—or he wasn’t really present.
He handed the ball off to their running back for the first play—a gain of two yards. On the second play, he threw a bad pass that bounced uselessly in the turf. Then on third-and-long, he dropped back and scanned for a deep pass. One of the Appleton defenders spun around the San Antonio player and threw himself into Nicky, sacking him in the back and ending the drive.
I screamed so loud my voice cracked.
The third quarter was a game of attrition. Nicky was clearly rattled, and struggled to get into the same groove he had in the first half. I would have loved to believe it was because of my halftime talk, but the Appleton defense was doing a great job smothering him. Lots of three-man blitzes, coming around the outside. Tons of pressure on Nicky to the point that he could never get comfortable.
We gave up a deep run on one drive, which resulted in a San Antonio field goal.
APPLETON ST: 17
SAN ANTONIO: 34
But we answered right back with a long drive featuring mostly passes from Danny, who wanted to avoid running plays to preserve as much clock as possible since we were losing. Finally he dumped it off to the tight end on the left side for a touchdown.
APPLETON ST: 24
SAN ANTONIO: 34
Aside from that, there was a long period of dominant defenses from both sides. Neither team scored for a long time, and we battled back and forth with punts. It was good to see from a defensive standpoint… But it also sucked because we needed points. A stalemate for the rest of the game meant a San Antonio win.
Finally we got a break—Nicky made a mistake and threw an interception. The crowd leaped to their feet as the defender ran back the ball to mid-field.
“Finally!” Aly cheered.
Danny threw three straight passes to Lance, each one more surgical than the last, resulting in a touchdown that made the crowd lose its mind. Aly and I celebrated with pulls from her flask as we did the math on the score…
…But then Feña missed the extra point, causing us and everyone around us to groan.
APPLETON ST: 30
SAN ANTONIO: 34
“We’re within a possession,” I said optimistically. “We have a chance. Just need to hold them here.”
But then Nicky Tarkenton finally shook off his nerves and returned to his normal self.
He spent most of the fourth quarter marching down the field, a few yards at a time. The clock wound down slowly and painfully. Nicky began handing the ball off to the running back to chew up as much time as possible. They got all the way down to the red zone before finally being stopped by the Appleton defense, forcing them to kick a field goal.
APPLETON ST: 30
SAN ANTONIO: 37
Lance’s kick-off return after that wasn’t great—he caught the ball, tried to juke out an opposing player, but the guy was ready for it and tackled him straight in the chest. Not a great start to the drive, and with bad field position.
“Just over four minutes left on the clock for Appleton,” the announcer said. “Is there magic left in the tank…”
Danny received the ball from the shotgun formation, pump-faked to Lance, then hurled it to a different wide receiver on the right side. They rushed to the line and began another play without pausing to huddle, and Danny threw a button-hook pass to Lance on the left. He tried to get out of bounds but was tackled right inside, keeping the clock churning down.
But Danny was in prime form, now. All the rust was shaken off. He methodically led the Appleton team down the field a few yards at a time, to the adoring cheers of the crowd. They marched all the way down to the two-yard line before calling a time-out.
“Give it to Lance!” Aly screamed. “Pass it to the big guy!”
“It’s the two-yard line,” I told her. “They have to run it here.”
“Screw that! Pass it to Lance!”
When they broke from the time-out and lined up, the running back was waiting behind Danny. The ball was hiked, and sure enough he turned and handed it off to the running back, who ran sideways to try to get around to the sideline edge of the end zone. Most of the defenders turned to follow.
Danny was rolling out after the hand-off. But he wasn’t just slowing to a stop.
“Oh shit! Danny’s still got the ball!”
The crowd screamed and roared as Danny ran out in the opposite direction as the rest of the team. The end zone was completely open ahead of him. He wasn’t fast on his iffy knee but he didn’t need to be. He was six yards away, then five, then four…
One defender came flying in like a heat-seeking missile. I held my breath.
Danny leaped into the end zone, and the defender jumped too. They collided in mid-air, sending Danny’s body helicoptering through the air.
And into the end zone. The ref raised his hands to signal a touchdown.
“Touchdown Appleton! The lame quarterback Danny Armstrong ran it in himself!”
APPLETON ST: 36
SAN ANTONIO: 37
“We’re an extra point away from tying the game!” I shouted. “I can’t believe it!”
Everyone in the stands jumped up and down so hard that I thought the stadium might collapse. I wouldn’t have cared if it did. I would have died happy.
But then the players cleared on the field, revealing a single player still on the ground.
Danny.
“Oh no.”
53
Fernando
Our excited cheering cut off abruptly when we saw Danny splayed out on the ground.
Oh no.
Danny planted a hand underneath himself and pushed into a seated position. He bent one leg at the knee, flexing it as a test. I saw him wince behind his helmet.
Two big guards lifted him up and helped him off the field. He walked with a limp, but he did walk.
Coach Mueller bombarded him with questions when they got him to the bench. “What’s wrong! What is it! Did the knee get re-injured? I can’t believe I ever let you go out there!”
“I think I’m okay.” Danny tried to stand, but the knee instantly buckled, sitting him back down. “Shit. Maybe not.”
“Christ, you shouldn’t have gone out there. It’s my job to keep you healthy, and I stood by and did nothing…”
Coach Mueller looked up at me. “What are you doing, Martinez? Get out there and kick the extra point!”
Danny grabbed Coach by the arm. His face was covered with sweat, but his eyes were calm. “Let’s go for two. There’s only a minute left in the game. We can take the win right now.”
“Absolutely not,” Coach said. “Not with your knee injured.”
“I’m fine!” Danny flexed it. “Just give me a minute.”
“You’ve done enough. Martinez? Get out there.”
I put on my helmet and jogged out with the rest of the kicking team. All I could think about was the extra point I’d missed earlier in the game, sailing too far right. I tried to calm myself down as I stepped up behind the place holder. Extra points were easy. Routine.
But this one, with the game on the line, was anything but routine.
The ball was snapped. I strode forward, smoothly kicking the bottom of the football. It soared through the air, but it was wobbly. That made it curve to the right…
It still went through the uprights, although barely.
I sighed with relief and pumped a fist.
“Martinez makes the extra point, and this game is all tied up!”
APPLETON ST: 37
SAN ANTONIO: 37
I jogged off the field to a gauntlet of helmet smacks and encouraging wo
rds.
“I’m fine,” Danny was saying to Coach. He was up on his feet now, walking back and forth. “Full range of movement. It was my thigh that got hit, not my knee.”
“I can’t let you go back out there,” Coach insisted. “Absolutely not. Your career is on the line, Danny!”
“Fuck my career!” he snapped. He ran a hand through his sweaty blond hair and stared daggers at Coach. “I don’t care about my career right now. I care about winning this game.”
“Which is why I’m making the decision for you. Sit down.”
“At least let me take the snap!” Danny tried. “I’ll hand the ball off every time. But it will keep them afraid of the deep ball.”
“I don’t trust you to stick with that plan,” Coach grumbled.
The crowd cheered, and we all looked back to the field. Our defense had held San Antonio to a three-and-out, and they were punting the ball. There was only 0:21 left on the clock.
Coach grabbed Lance by the jersey and pulled him close. “Don’t try anything heroic. Call for a fair catch, Mark will take a knee, and we’re going to overtime.”
“Don’t worry about me Coach,” Lance said with a perfect smile.
A smile I knew well.
What are you going to do, Lance?
San Antonio punted the ball. Lance started to raise his hand to call for a fair catch, but then abruptly lowered it and caught the ball.
“What the…” Coach growled.
Lance spun out to the right, avoiding two vicious tackles. He tucked the ball under his arm and quickly accelerated to a full sprint, running out to the sideline while his blockers got situated.
“Holy shit!” Danny said. “Holy shit! Go! Go! Go!”
Lance weaved and juked through the black and silver jerseys, past midfield and into San Antonio territory. He had one more defender to get past… but they threw a shoulder into him, knocking him to the ground.
Coach ran out onto the field. “Time out! Time out!”
I glanced at the clock. 0:03 remaining. By the time I looked back, Coach was bearing down on me.
“Alright, Martinez,” he said. “Think you can make this field goal?”
The ball on the 40, plus the distance to hike it back to the placeholder and the depth of the field goal itself… It would be a 57-yard field goal. Several yards farther than I’d ever made before, even in practice.
“I think so,” I said, but what I meant was: Probably not.
“If you’re short,” Coach warned, “they’ll have a chance to catch it and run it back, like what Auburn did against Alabama a few years back. So I’ll ask again: can you make it?”
Danny was at my side instantly. “He’s got this.”
“I didn’t ask you.”
“I have got this,” I said, imbued with courage from Danny’s confidence. “I will make it.”
“Alright,” Coach said. “Let’s see if all those secret squats and deadlifts finally pay off.”
I gave a start. “You knew?”
He made an annoyed noise. “Of course I fucking knew, Martinez. Nothing goes on in my gym without me knowing.” He slapped me on the shoulder. “Now go win us the game.”
Danny confidently nodded. “You’ve got this.”
Lance gave me finger guns. “Field goal? Me gusta. Missed field goal? No me gusta.”
I chuckled at the lighthearted teasing as I jogged onto the field, but the distraction only lasted a moment. There was a buzz in the stadium that instantly made my nerves tingle: excitement and nervousness from the crowd as they realized what the stakes were. If I made this kick, we won the game. If I missed it, we went into overtime.
I took my position behind the place holder. The yellow field goal looked much farther away than normal, even though it was just a few yards difference than the kick I made earlier in the game. The crowd buzz quickly grew to a deafening roar as the referees took their positions. A single San Antonio player jogged back and stood in the end zone to catch the ball in case I kicked it too short.
Sweat rolled down my temples. Even though it was a cool November night, suddenly my helmet felt sweltering. The stadium was so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. The pressure of the situation had a physical presence, like a weight pressing down on me from above. It made me want to be anywhere but here.
I tried to calm myself down by thinking of relaxing thoughts. Comforting thoughts. Playing with my sisters back in Santiago at Christmas. My mother’s Paella. Snowboarding in the Andes.
Roberta.
The smallest thought of her calmed me more than all the other things. I imagined her lips against mine, and her soft skin underneath my fingertips. The way she pressed herself against my body when I held her close. The flowery smell of her hair from the shampoo she used.
The crippling pressure disappeared.
The ball was snapped and caught by the holder. I glided forward as if my body weighed nothing. One step, two steps, planting my left foot and swinging my right back, and then down. Down in a vicious kick as hard as I could, using all the muscles in my body and legs, twisting and turning and kicking in one continuous motion.
A hundred thousand pairs of eyes watched the ball soar through the air.
54
Roberta
The moment Feña’s foot made contact with the ball, I was out of my seat and rushing down the bleachers. I didn’t need to watch it to know what would happen. I had faith in him.
I reached the bottom of the stairs as the ball crossed through the uprights. I knew the exact moment because the entire stadium lost its mind in a chorus of screaming cheers.
“The field goal is good! It’s good! Appleton scores as time expires to win the game! I can’t believe what I just saw!”
The numbers on the scoreboard changed right as the clock hit 0:00:
APPLETON ST: 40
SAN ANTONIO: 37
I slid past the usher down the stairs to the field itself. All along the field, students followed suit to storm the field and celebrate with the players in a rush of bodies. My feet pounded on the grass as I sprinted out onto the field, where the entire Appleton team had gathered to celebrate with Feña, lifting him into the air like the groom in a Jewish wedding.
“Babs!” Lance said to my left. He grinned like an idiot as he grabbed me by the waist and lifted me, swirling me around excitedly. “We did it!”
I held his hand as the throng of humanity surrounded us and blocked us in. Danny waved from 20 feet to the right, unable to get to us, but his grin was enough to make me happy. Everything was chaos: players, and coaches, and referees, and security guards, and fans were all intermingled together on the field. San Antonio players tried to reach the Appleton players to shake hands and say good game.
One San Antonio player had different words on his mind.
“You fucking cunt.”
I found Nicky Tarkenton’s snarling face to my left. His two linemen goons were with him, shoving students out of the way so they could reach us.
“What’s the matter?” I shouted at him. “Guilty conscience distracted you too much?”
“You lied about everything.” A girl squealed as Nicky shoved her out of the way on his path to me. “There aren’t any cops coming to get us. You know nothing. It was all mind games.”
“Must be a weak mind if that’s all it takes,” Lance said next to me. He was positioning himself to block them.
“We knew that already,” Danny said as he reached me. He slid into place next to Lance, creating a barrier to protect me.
Nicky cackled maniacally. “Our biggest mistake wasn’t injuring that knee properly when we had the chance. Matt, why don’t you finish the job?”
The crowd was pressing tight all around as Nicky and the thugs neared us. There was nowhere for us to run.
“Danny, no!” I screamed. “Get back!”
Lance waved to someone. “Jamal! We need some backup!”
But there was no way the other Appleton players would get here in time.
Nicky and his two linemen were almost here, and there was death shining in their eyes.
And then, the crowd miraculously parted to our left.
“Appleton Police!” a uniformed officer shouted. “Nicholas Tarkenton, would you mind coming with us?”
Watching the color drain out of Nicky’s face was the most satisfying thing I’d ever seen in my life.
“What, uh, is the matter officer?” he stammered.
The two police officers blocked their path. “We’d like to take you to the station and ask you a few questions. We’ll explain more when we get there.”
“Yeah, uh, sure,” Nicky said. “I’d be happy to—”
Abruptly, Nicky turned and started fleeing in the opposite direction. It wasn’t very effective thanks to the crowd blocking his path, but he still shoved people out of the way and tried squirming across the field away from the police, who quickly began giving chase.
Lance put an arm around me and pointed up at the scoreboard. “We can watch the show from here.”
On the big screen, a camera was focused on Nicky as he tried to retreat through the crowd. He reached the end and then started sprinting across the open field, causing the fans in the stands to start cheering for the unexpected show.
An Appleton student came running at him from the side, sticking out his leg to trip the quarterback. Nicky fell on his face and slid 10 yards on the grass, and by the time he tried to get up, the police were falling on him and grabbing his arms.
“Best sack he took all day,” Danny said with a beaming smile.
“Roberta!” shouted a familiar accented voice. I saw Feña shoving through the crowd to the left. “Did you see me!”
I embraced him and squeezed him tight. “It was amazing! That kick would have been good even from 60 yards!”
Other Appleton students were slapping Feña on the helmet and cheering at him, making it tough for me to talk to him. Feña grabbed my hand and pulled me through the crowd until we reached the edge where we could finally breathe. Only then did he take off his helmet and let it drop to the ground.