Emergency Quarterback

by Rich Wallace

  Palisades kept things interesting for half a game, going into the locker room with an 8—6 lead. But the Hudson City defense clamped down in the second half, Jason sprinted fifty-one yards for a touchdown on a quarterback keeper, and Miguel bulled through for a fourteen-yard scoring run and then added the two-point conversion. Final score: Hudson City 20, Palisades 8.

  The announcement that Hoboken had scored a narrow win over Bayonne that same evening left a simple scenario. Whoever won the Hudson City vs. Hoboken game on the final Saturday would walk away with the EJJFL title.

  “It’ll be like a bowl game!” Anthony said as the Hornets got off the bus after the ride home from Palisades.

  Jason raised his fist and shook it. “Like the Super Bowl. Winner take all.”

  “Hoboken has a dynasty going,” Miguel said. “They seem to win the league every year.”

  “Time to end it,” Jason added. “Dynasties are made to be broken.”

  “Overthrown, you mean,” Anthony said.

  “Whatever.”

  Wade slipped past them in a hurry. He hadn’t played at all, barely moving from the bench, where he’d sat with his helmet on. He hadn’t budged when the Hornets had scored, and had nothing to say when the game ended in victory.

  Jason started to say something. A simple, sarcastic “Nice game, Wade” would have been enough, but he caught himself and stayed quiet. , Why stoop to that level?

  Miguel smacked Jason on the back. “Your buddy there must have splinters in his butt from all that bench time,” he said with a laugh.

  Jason shrugged. “Yeah, well, he earned them. Too much mouth on him.”

  “He’s history, man. You proved that tonight.”

  Jason nodded slowly. As much as he disliked Wade, he couldn’t help feeling sorry for him, too. Sitting on the bench for an entire game must be agonizing. Especially knowing that you’d blown a huge opportunity to be the starter.

  Tuesday afternoon Jason sat waiting for the bell to ring, ending the social studies class. The teacher had just handed back the tests from the day before. Jason had not done well.

  “Let’s see,” said Anthony, reaching across the aisle for Jason’s paper. “A C-minus? When was the last time you got less than a B on anything?”

  Jason rolled his eyes. “Been a while,” he said.

  “Didn’t you study?”

  Jason turned in his seat to face his friend. “I thought I did.” He took the paper back and stared at it. “Guess nothing sunk in. Everything I try to think about turns into one subject this week: Hoboken.”

  Anthony shook his head. He showed Jason his own paper, which was marked with an A. “We’ll beat Hoboken, Jason. Stop worrying.”

  “They beat Bayonne last week,” Jason said. “Bayonne clobbered us.”

  “Bayonne did not clobber us, Fiorelli. Get over that. Like my ma always tells me when I think I can’t accomplish something, ‘Disavow yourself of that notion.’”

  Jason smiled. “Wish we could just play the game tonight and be done with it. I can’t wait four more days.”

  “You can wait. You better wait. The game’s not till Saturday. And we got another social studies test on Friday.”

  It was nearly dark as Jason and Wade stood face-to-face on the practice field Thursday, sizing each other up, but listening to Coach Podesta go over the strategy. Jason rubbed the toe of his cleats into the soft dirt and scratched at a tiny zit on his jaw.

  The other players had left the field for home after a bruising workout. Coach had kept some key members of the offense behind for a few minutes as he went over a new play, but even they were gone now. Only the two quarterbacks remained—the two biggest rivals on the team.

  “Saturday night is going to be brutal,” Coach said. “Hoboken is big and strong—like Bayonne, but quicker. It’ll be the kind of game where two teams just slug each other around the field, and one big play can mean the difference between a championship and a major disappointment.”

  Jason looked across the field toward the parking lot, where Anthony and Miguel were talking. He could hear them laughing—they always seemed loose. He was that way, too; at least he had been. These past few weeks had been tough—the shock of losing Vinnie to injury, the fumble and interception against Bayonne, the pressure of becoming the starting QB against Palisades. Now, with the biggest game of his life staring him in the face, Jason was a bundle of nerves. He wanted to be that guy he’d been—joking, making wisecracks, succeeding while having fun.

  “I don’t know if we’ll even get to run this play,” Coach was saying, “or need to. But you two have to be ready if we do. It takes two quarterbacks. You need to work together.”

  Wade picked up the football and tossed it from hand to hand. “Just put the ball in my hands,” he said. “I know what to do with it.”

  Coach stuck his hands in his pockets and frowned. “You know what to do with it? Show me. Run the play.”

  Jason took the ball and mimed the action of lining up behind an invisible center. The crescent moon was up early, shining just above the horizon. Jason pulled back the ball and dropped into passing position, and he and Wade ran the play just as Coach had instructed them to.

  “Not bad,” Coach said. “Let’s do it a few more times.”

  They stayed at it until it was too dark to continue, successfully making the play more often than not. Of course, there were no defenders on the field.

  “It’s a great play when it works,” Coach said. “Not too complicated, but effective. The key here is you two guys”—he grabbed both of their face masks and held tight—“being in sync. That will make all the difference.”

  They walked off the field together, and Coach got into his pickup truck and drove off. Anthony and Miguel were gone. Jason and Wade stood alone in the parking lot.

  Jason cleared his throat. “Moon’s out,” he said, stating the obvious.

  Wade nodded but looked away. “Supposed to be clear on Saturday. Not too cold.”

  “I heard.”

  Wade let out his breath in a long, audible exhalation. He wiped his nose with his sleeve and took a step toward the street. “You staying here all night?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Let’s go then.”

  They walked up toward the Boulevard, not talking. Jason felt uneasy; he still didn’t like Wade, but he no longer felt as if a fight could break out at any time. Either way, Jason had the upper hand. He was the starter now; Wade had only this one surprise play that might not even get called. But Jason was glad Wade had that. At least he might be able to contribute.

  The streets were busy. It was that in-between time, with New York City commuters arriving home on buses, lots of cars on the Boulevard, kids hurrying home for dinner, and shoppers picking up bread and milk at the grocery store or takeout pizza or Chinese food. All the streetlights were on and everybody seemed to be on the move.

  “You ever win a championship before?” Wade asked.

  “A few,” Jason replied. They were standing alongside the corner grocery store at Ninth and the Boulevard. “Basketball last year. Some Y leagues.”

  Wade took his helmet and placed it over a parking meter, so it looked like a very skinny player. That made him smile. He snapped the chin guard to secure it. “I never won anything yet,” Wade said. “Four years of Little League, three years of junior football, and two basketball seasons. Never even a second place.”

  Jason shrugged. “Nobody can do it alone.”

  “I know. But if Coach gives me another chance on Saturday like he says he might, I’ll show’em.”

  “It’s not about showing anybody anything,” Jason said. It annoyed him that Wade didn’t get it, that winning in team sports like football or basketball demanded team spirit and cooperation. But he felt for him, too. Years of playing with Vinnie and Miguel and the others had taught Jason a lot about teamwork. He couldn’t really blame Wade for not having learned those things. But if the opportunity arose on Saturday to use the new play,
he didn’t want Wade’s need for individual attention to mess up the whole thing.

  “It’s not about showing off or showing up or showing anything,” Jason said again. “When we put the team first, we all win.”

  Wade nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced. “Easy for you to say.” He went into a boxing stance and threw a few punches at his helmet, which was still hanging on the parking meter. “All I know is I shoulda been in there all season. Coach never had enough confidence in me just because we lost a lot last year. That’s why he went with Vinnie.”

  Jason folded his arms and shook his head. “Vinnie’s a great quarterback,” he said. “We haven’t been the same since he got hurt.”

  “That’s ’cause Coach made the wrong choice again. He yanked me after half a game against Bayonne. And I hadn’t even done anything wrong.”

  “Hadn’t done much right, either, you gotta admit that.”

  “Look what happened when he put you in.”

  “I ain’t forgotten,” Jason said. “Believe me.”

  Wade took his helmet off the meter and watched as a police car went by. Its lights were flashing, but the siren was not going. “You thirsty or anything?” he asked, not making eye contact.

  “Yeah.”

  “Come on.” Wade led the way into the grocery store. He took a Coke out of a cooler near the checkout and walked over to pay. Jason got one of his own. For a second he’d thought Wade might be buying, but apparently not. They paid separately and left the store.

  “Which way you headed?” Wade asked.

  “That way,” Jason replied, pointing uptown.

  “I’m going the other way. See you later.”

  “Right.” Jason walked away, taking a gulp of soda. What was that all about? he wondered. Wade was strange. It was almost as if he wanted to be friendly but didn’t quite know how. He always managed to say something stuck-up or selfish.

  What would happen if Coach told them to run the new play late in a close game? Would Wade try to prove he was a hero, or would he just perform the task he’d been assigned?

  He’d have to wait and see. Maybe they’d be so far ahead that it wouldn’t even matter. But that wasn’t very likely against Hoboken. The most likely scenario was a tight, tough game that went down to the final seconds.

  To himself, Jason seemed to be as different from Wade as two kids could be. But maybe the coach believed differently. He seemed to think that combining their talents might be the best way to win Saturday’s game.

  9

  Who’s Invincible?

  Warming up on Saturday night, they all seemed to feel it. This notion of Hoboken as a nearly unbeatable force. As if Hudson City’s first-place position in the standings—by the slimmest of margins—was all just a sham. That after tonight, Hoboken would retake its rightful place at the top.

  Calvin was staring off into the distance as he stretched his legs near the sideline. Lamont kept looking over at the Hoboken players. “Wow, those boys are large,” he said a couple of times.

  Jason stepped away from the backs and receivers, walking over to Vinnie DiMarco. Vinnie was in uniform tonight, but his wrist was still in a cast and Coach Podesta had said there was no way he would play. He’d let him suit up simply because it was the final game of the season.

  “Things seem strange to you?” Jason asked.

  “Like what?”

  “Everybody seems worried. Or doomed. You feel it?”

  Vinnie shrugged and glanced over at the team. “They’re quieter than usual, I guess. Probably nervous.”

  “Or scared stiff.”

  Hudson City was 6—1, and Hoboken stood at 5—1—1. Everybody knew what was at stake.

  “I don’t think those guys are scared,” Vinnie said, pointing toward Anthony and Sergio and some other linemen, who were doing a blocking drill and banging into each other hard.

  “Or him.” Vinnie indicated Miguel, running a full-speed sprint near the end zone.

  Jason fiddled with his chinstrap and looked up at the bleachers, which were rapidly filling with spectators. “Maybe it’s just me,” he said.

  Vinnie put his hand on Jason’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine as soon as the game starts,” he said. “You’re just feeling the pressure.”

  “Sure wish you were playing quarterback,” Jason said. “I’d much rather catch the ball than throw it.”

  Miguel received the opening kickoff and returned it to the Hudson City thirty-five. Jason trotted onto the field, feeling like he might throw up from nervousness. Hoboken’s defensive players were big and furious.

  He took a deep breath and called the first play, a simple handoff to Jared between the center and right guard—Sergio and Anthony.

  Hoboken had its linebackers packed tight behind the line, ready to exert a lot of pressure. Coach had warned that they were tough to pass against, constantly blitzing.

  But Anthony and Sergio bolted forward and opened a hole, and Jared ran through for nearly seven yards. He bounced up quickly and ran back to the huddle.

  “Nice blocking,” Jason said.

  “All night,” Anthony said. “We’ll own these guys.”

  Jason called for a quarterback keeper, right through the same hole. He faked a handoff to Miguel and darted for the spot. But this time the hole was plugged by a linebacker. Jason was stopped cold.

  Third and three. He called for a short pass play—Calvin in the flat or Lamont over the middle. But he never even got the pass off. As soon as he dropped back, a lineman was all over him. Six-yard loss. Fourth and nine.

  But Vinnie was right. The nervousness Jason had felt before the game was gone. He’d been hit hard twice, but nothing bad had happened. These guys were tough, but they weren’t invincible.

  The Hudson City defense held tight as well, and the Hornets managed a couple of first downs the next time they had the ball. Things were going fine. Hoboken scored on a short drive after a long punt return, but Hudson City was very much in the game.

  Late in the second quarter, with a third down and six coming up from the Hornets’ forty, Jason was surprised to see Wade running toward the huddle. He grabbed Miguel’s arm and said, “I’m in for you.” Turning to Jason, he said, “Coach wants us to run the lateral.”

  Jason kneeled in the huddle and said, “Wade’s at tailback. It’s a simple lateral to him to the right. Receivers should run the routes they do on play eighty-three, but this is a running play. On two.”

  At the snap Jason dropped back as if to pass, but turned to his right and pitched the ball to Wade. Wade cut behind Anderson at tackle and ripped into the secondary, gaining eleven yards before being brought down.

  Wade leaped up and shook his fist. Hudson City was inside Hoboken territory for the first time all night.

  Less than a minute remained before halftime. Jason ran a quarterback sweep for a few yards, then completed a short pass to Lamont. A long pass to Calvin fell incomplete, so it was fourth down with just a few seconds left.

  Wade came back onto the field. “The lateral again,” he said to Jason.

  Jason nodded. He knew this was a setup. Coach wanted Hoboken to expect the lateral anytime Wade came into the backfield. Wade gained about seven yards this time, but the clock ran out as he was tackled.

  Halftime score: Hoboken 7, Hudson City 0.

  “We may need you after all,” Jason said to Vinnie as they jogged toward the locker room.

  “How?”

  “Low-scoring game like this one, an extra point could be huge. Think you could kick one?”

  “I know I could,” Vinnie said. “Coach said no way, but maybe...”

  They stopped running as they reached the path to the lockers. “You know,” Jason said, “if we tie these guys, we win the championship. We’d have more wins than they do.”

  “That’s true,” Vinnie said. “Win or tie, it’s ours. They need a win to get the title.”

  “We have to get into the end zone first, but that’d be something, huh? A championship-
winning extra point from the guy with the broken wrist.”

  Vinnie shook his head, but he had to smile. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come down to that. Get us a couple of touchdowns and be done with it.”

  Both defensive units were outstanding in the second half. Jason ran for a first down and later passed for another, but the Hornets didn’t get close to the end zone.

  Anthony and Sergio led the Hudson City defense, which kept Hoboken in check. Both teams’ punters got a lot of work. The clock showed less than four minutes to go in the fourth quarter as Jason took the field for perhaps the final time, still trailing 7—0.

  Anthony punched Jason lightly on the arm. The big lineman was covered with sweat and dirt, and his lips were damp and bloody. “You’re the man, Fiorelli,” he said. “We’ve worked too hard not to win this thing. Do something special.”

  “Help me out then,” Jason said. “Quarterback draw. Right behind you.”

  The Hornets had the ball just short of midfield, but they’d gained very little yardage this half. Jason looked from face to face before breaking the huddle—Anthony, Sergio, and Anderson had been in on nearly every play of the game. They were exhausted. But each of them looked as fired-up as ever.

  Jason took the snap, dropped back a step, faked the ball to Miguel, and dodged through the hole behind Anthony. He broke one tackle and surged forward, finally being brought down at the Hoboken forty-six.

  “Nice one!” Sergio shouted.

  “These guys are tired,” Anthony said as they huddled up again. “We can wear them down. Plenty of time. Keep running.”

  A handoff to Jared went for a first down, and then Miguel broke loose for twelve more yards. They’d reached the thirty. The clock showed 2:47.

  Jason felt a new rush of excitement. They were moving the ball. He called his own number again, this time following Anderson ahead for a five-yard gain.

  “Yeah!” Jason said in the huddle. “Right in their faces. I’m taking it again. Just drive ’em out of the way.”