by Pat Flynn
The Shooters have the ball on their own ten-yard line, so ninety yards stands between glory and grief, but it’s going to take a miracle with no Austin Eaton. He was knocked unconscious when three defensive linemen speared him headfirst into the ground in a sickening tackle. Whether or not it was deliberate is impossible to say, but don’t be surprised if Hope supporters don’t forget or forgive for a very long time. So, with the score 17–14 to the Armadillos, the players are coming back onto the field, and both sets of fans rise to cheer on their boys for one last do-or-die drive.
The players take position, Wilson in the shotgun. He gets the snap and drops back into the pocket. Denham defense breaks through! Wilson throws hurriedly and it’s … complete! Thomas pulls in a high ball and steps out of bounds on the 21. First down, Shooters.
Listen to that Shooter crowd. They haven’t given up yet, though this will be the comeback of the century if Hope can pull it off.
Hurry up offense, Wilson in the shotgun, here’s the snap. Wilson fakes to his running back and throws. Garcia has it! He’s at the thirty, forty, he’s gotta get out of bounds to stop the clock. He does! Garcia makes it all the way to the forty-five before taking it out with nineteen seconds remaining. Oh my Lord, this is getting hard to watch!
Look at those Armadillo coaches yellin’. They sure ain’t happy with their all-star defense, but two great passes under pressure by Sam Wilson have lit this game right up.
Shooters in the huddle. The offense clap hands and they’re out. There’s the snap and Wilson rolls right. Throws long for Thomas who’s double-teamed. Could be an interception! Thomas jumps, and … brings it down at the Denham twenty-yard line! First down, Shooters, but the clock’s still ticking. Wilson sprints to the line. Nine, eight, seven … they might not get another play! Linemen in position, but what’s this? Thomas still hasn’t gotten up. The referee blows his whistle with … two seconds on the clock! Whoa, that was close.
So one more play. The Denham fans aren’t happy with the injury time-out, I’m sure you can hear it for yourself. I’ve been watching Malivai Thomas play football for three years and have never seen him fake an injury. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen him get an injury, he’s always been too fast. They’re bringing out the stretcher as we take a look at the instant replay and … oh dear, it looks nasty. His knee twisted and buckled underneath him when he landed.
Surely Hope will send their field-goal team in now to tie up the game. No! It looks like they’re going for the win! One play to go, a touchdown needed. And what’s this? Austin Eaton has run onto the field! Out like a light in the second quarter, he’s back from the dead and in the quarterbacking position! Wilson is to his right in The Line Formation, then Garcia and then Billy-Joe Powers.
Here’s the snap. Eaton laterals the ball to Wilson, who runs and fakes a lateral to Garcia. Wilson turns inside and laterals back to Eaton, who’s got some space on the left.
Eaton’s not running! Oh my God, what’s happening! Defense converges and … Eaton throws! Eaton throws! He throws forward to Wilson, who catches the ball on the ten, now at the five … TOUCHDOWN, SHOOTERS! Someone’s taught this Aussie kid to throw like an American and it’s won a town a championship. Oh my Lord, I’ve never seen anything like it! Eaton and Wilson are hugging. Fans are bursting onto the field and pandemonium has broken out. They’re starting to tear down the goalposts and it’s ugly but beautiful at the same time …
Coach Hayes switched off the radio, drank his last mouthful of antacid, and smiled. Wilson and the Australian working together to bring a famous victory for Hope? Who would have thought it possible?
Maybe, just maybe, he’d underestimated today’s America. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.
Three Shooters were carried off the field that night.
One was Sam, who’d always dreamed of this, although in his dream it was different. In it he threw a touchdown-winning pass, raised his arms in the air, and was carried off by his dad.
Instead, his dad was trapped up east on business. Jay Wilson had arranged for his ex-wife to send a tape of the game, but only if the Shooters won.
Sam had caught a wobbly pass on a trick play by an Australian, a play that Sam had worked out that very morning as they ran through their last practice of The Line Formation. “What if Austin learns how to pass?” he’d said.
“I know how to pass,” said Ozzie.
“No, I mean really pass.”
Malivai and Jose nodded. “They wouldn’t know what hit ’em,” Jose had said.
And so in ten minutes Sam had taught Ozzie how to throw the pigskin—to spread his fingers over the laces and flick his wrist and get a spiral humming.
In many ways Ozzie was the real hero, Sam knew that. Ozzie had got that pass away with linemen bearing down like a pack of wolves who’d already knocked him out once and now wanted to finish the job. All Sam had done was catch the ball and run ten yards into the end zone without tripping over grass.
This wasn’t what Sam had dreamed, not at all.
It was better.
Suddenly, Sam asked to be put down. There was something he needed to do. “Where is she?” he yelled.
“Who?” someone asked.
“The homecoming queen.”
From out of the crowd she appeared, and Sam said something that he couldn’t remember saying and meaning before in his life.
“I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” repeated Sam. “I’ve been an asshole.”
“Say it again.”
“I’m an asshole.”
“No, the other part.”
He put a hand out. “I’m sorry.”
It was only then that Unity went to him.
Ozzie was carried off as well, though he knew he wouldn’t remember much, even as it happened. A fog was spreading through his mind now that his body had done its job. He’d been concussed before and it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Sometimes it even gave you more, rather than less, clarity. You saw inside yourself and you weren’t scared anymore. Maybe that’s why it was so dangerous. Once you stop being scared on a football field you’re asking for trouble. Before he’d come to in the dressing room—courtesy of smelling salts from the doc—he’d had a sense that he almost knew who he was and what he wanted out of this strange journey called life. He wanted to stay there, actually, but the doc was clapping and Coach McCulloch was yapping and Ozzie knew he had a job to do. Maybe tonight, when the blackness came again, he’d remember. That’d be real good. And then tomorrow he’d call Jess and write to Pop and things would be all right.
The third Shooter carried off was Malivai. He didn’t have dozens of hands underneath his legs and back, just two trainers carrying the front and back of the stretcher. The doc had already prodded and poked and looked into his eyes and said, “It looks like the ACL,” and Malivai knew that the gift that let him run faster than fire was gone. God had taken it back and He must have a reason, though it wasn’t apparent to Malivai right then, not when the papers for his college scholarship were sitting on his desk at home, unsigned.
chapter 31
The next morning Ozzie was home in Yuranigh. He could hear birds singing and cows bellowing. Pop’d be up already, of course, and there’d be a cuppa and porridge waiting. But Ozzie woke up for real when he heard a phone ringing.
Alison brought it in. “It’s from Australia.”
“Hey,” said Jess.
“G’day,” said Ozzie. “To hear you it’s so … good.” As well as still being half-asleep, Ozzie had mild concussion.
“I’ve missed you.”
Ozzie wanted to say something, but nothing came into his head.
“Listen.” Jess hesitated. “Pop’s in hospital. Mrs. Allan was going to ring but I wanted to do it. He’s okay, just tired, we think. I just wanted you to know.”
“What happened?”
“He passed out—fixing fences. Johnno found him. The doctor reckons it was probably heatstro
ke, but they’re keeping him in to make sure.”
A pause. “I should come home, eh?”
“No. He’s gonna be fine. If there’s any news I’ll call you straightaway.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. Look, tell me how you’re doing? Do you like America?”
“Yeah. It’s real good.”
“You figured out what you want to do next year?”
Ozzie paused. “Not yet. Though this college over here wants me to play for ’em. They’re even talking about a scholarship. Pretty funny, eh?”
She didn’t laugh. “That’s probably who’s been ringing, then.”
“What?”
“Some Yankee fella has rung up Wazza, asking about you. You gonna go?”
“Nah. Course not.”
A longer pause.
“I’d better get going,” she finally said. “You look after yourself.”
“Jess, I …” He didn’t know what else to say.
“See ya, Ozzie.”
The first song of the homecoming dance was dedicated to one couple, the queen and her king. Unity and Sam were whistled at as they approached the floor to a slow love song. They held each other tight and swayed, while others looked on jealously, wishing it were them.
Halfway through the song the DJ called the rest of the Queen’s Court onto the floor, so Ozzie and Angela, Jose and Braidie, and Tex and Leesa joined in. Angela’s painted smile barely disguised her disappointment. “If I didn’t come from Denham I think I would’ve won,” she said to Ozzie. “Unity’s lived here all her life so maybe the committee was … predisposed.”
Ozzie didn’t really understand what she meant, but he still had a headache so he didn’t bother asking for an explanation. The music sped up and he started spinning and twisting Angela, trying to get her mind off losing. But it wasn’t long before she disappeared, and Ozzie went over to Malivai, moved the crutches off the seat beside him, and sat down.
“How is it?” Ozzie asked, nodding at Mal’s knee.
Malivai shook his head. He looked about as happy as Angela.
“You know,” said Ozzie, “there’s this famous footy player back home who broke his arm, not once or twice but four times. The last time he smacked straight into the goalposts. Bang! They had to put a steel rod in it and everything. Anyway, he went on to play for Australia, a real legend he was. And if he can do it … ”
“Thanks, man,” said Malivai.
They clasped hands. “Keep your chin up, mate.”
Unity suddenly appeared and grabbed Ozzie. “Come on, twinkle toes. My turn!”
Ozzie had been dragged to enough old-time dances by his grandfather to know a thing or two about moving to music. A Buddy Holly song was playing and Ozzie led a laughing Unity through the four-step. A slow song was next and Ozzie tried to slip away, but Unity pulled him back to the floor. “You’re not getting out of it that easy.”
She held him close and Ozzie could feel people watching. The homecoming queen with the guy who’d thrown the winning pass; it was a good story. Ozzie could feel Unity’s back through her soft dress and he wondered if there could be a happy ending. Angela was a stunner, but Unity, she was beautiful. A part of him wished they could go back to the water tower together, maybe even tonight.
Suddenly, someone tapped him on the back. Ozzie turned around and saw Sam, who wasn’t smiling. Ozzie let go of Unity. If a fight had to happen, it had to happen. He couldn’t really blame Sam, either. If Ozzie saw another bloke holding Jess so close, he’d probably want to beat the hell out of him.
Those around stopped dancing and watched as Sam grabbed Ozzie around the shoulders.
Ozzie tried to move but couldn’t. God, he’s strong, he thought.
Sam lifted Ozzie in the air and held him there.
Ozzie tensed his muscles, waiting to be thrown halfway across the room.
Instead Sam yelled, “Yee-hah! We goddamn did it!”
Pandemonium broke out on the dance floor—people hollering and screaming, all celebrating the win of the season, the win of a lifetime. Someone ran in, yelling “They found it! They found it!” and Coach McCulloch entered with the district trophy in his hands. Everybody rushed over to touch it, and in the excitement Sam dropped Ozzie onto the floor.
Before Ozzie’s head was stomped on—which was the last thing he needed—Jose helped him up. “We did it, amigo. We really did it.”
chapter 32
The Hope Times broke the bad news. Because it was a three-way tie between Hope, Denham, and the Booth Bears, and only the top two teams were allowed to represent the district in the state play-offs, one team would have to be eliminated. By a coin toss.
The toss was to be held at an undisclosed location, with a coin being thrown by each head coach. If there were two heads and one tail, the team with the tail would be eliminated. If two tails and one head landed, the head would be eliminated. If all three coins were heads or tails, the coins would be tossed again. This was one contest where you didn’t want to be the odd head or tail out.
The location would be kept a secret to stop thousands of fans congregating and possibly fighting when things didn’t go their way. There was one thing for sure, the newspaper said, “there’s going to be one brokenhearted West Texas town.”
Hope began preparing the best way it knew. Prayer groups were organized, and a special coin was chosen and blessed.
The day before the big event, Miss Simms showed up in history and asked for Ozzie to be excused. She took him to see Principal Fraser, who looked up from his giant desk and waved Ozzie in. Coach McCulloch was leaning against a bookshelf that had hardly any books but plenty of photos—photos of Mr. Fraser hunting, Mr. Fraser fishing, and Mr. Fraser with a football team, this year’s team, in fact. The first team of district champions while he was principal.
“Austin, how are you, boy?” said Mr. Fraser.
“Good.”
“Great game last Friday.”
“Thanks.”
“How’s the head?”
“All right.”
Mr. Fraser looked at Coach McCulloch, then back at Ozzie. “Austin, there’s a few rumors doing the rounds, which isn’t surprising at this time of year. People get awful strange around play-off time, hey, Coach?”
Ozzie hardly noticed the way Mr. Fraser said tahhme anymore.
Coach didn’t say anything.
“Anyway,” continued Mr. Fraser, “the Denham principal called me this morning, and although what he said is probably crazy I need to check it out. Okay?”
Ozzie nodded, though he didn’t know what was going on.
Coach McCulloch suddenly stood up straight.
“Okay,” said Mr. Fraser, “let me start by giving you some background information. All high-school and college sports in this country are amateur. Do you know what amateur means, Austin?”
“Not professional, right? Like Rugby Union used to be.”
“Well, I’m not sure about rugby, but you’re correct. It means that players can’t get paid for their athletic endeavors. They may get certain expenses covered, like a travel allowance, but there are strict rules, and if they’re broken, the player and the team he plays for get into a lot of trouble. Do you understand this?”
Ozzie nodded.
“Now, the Denham football coach has heard from some of their players that you were paid to play rugby in Australia …”
Ozzie went to speak but Mr. Fraser cut him off. “I strongly suggest you don’t say anything until I’m finished, okay?”
Coach McCulloch had turned white.
Ozzie nodded.
He was just going to say that he played Rugby League, not rugby.
“Anyway, I told the Denham principal that you played for your high-school team in …” Mr. Fraser looked at a sheet of paper. “… Yuranigh. And that you weren’t paid any money whatsoever to play there. Is this correct?”
Ozzie nodded.
“You’ll need to answer, son,” said Mr. Fraser.
>
“Yeah, it is.”
“And any other football that you might have played was simply an unorganized competition, like a fun pickup game, for instance.”
Ozzie grimaced. “I did play for a club, as well.”
“I wasn’t aware of that.” Mr. Fraser pulled at his tie. “Okay, let me say this. If, in those club games, any money was given to you to play, then not only would you be ineligible to play further high-school or college football, but the whole team would be penalized severely. Do you understand?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, so tell me, Austin, and I need you to be completely honest here, have you ever made any money from playing football?”
There was a pause.
Coach McCulloch started thinking about what it would be like to go back into the classroom, because no one would hire a football coach who’d been caught cheating.
Mr. Fraser pulled at his tie some more.
Ozzie finally answered. “Nah.” It was true, too. The $150 he got per game all went to his grandfather, and his bonus for making the Grand Final went to a Mexican policeman.
Coach McCulloch breathed out and Mr. Fraser closed his eyes, then spoke again.
“Austin, it’s very important that you tell no one about our discussion here today. Understand?”
Ozzie nodded.
Mr. Fraser had Miss Simms hand deliver a confidential memo to the Denham principal. “An investigation by school authorities finds there is no evidence to suggest that any Hope player has ever received money in a professional sporting capacity. Coin toss should go ahead as planned.”
An hour later the Denham principal called. “Sorry, Frase,” he said. “But we’re gonna play hardball on this.”
“Goddamn it, Chase!” said Mr. Fraser. “Can’t you handle a licking once every fifteen years?”
“Only when that licking’s a fair one,” said Chase Biggs. “We’ve set up a meeting. Tonight at seven in the mayor’s chambers.”