Backing up the Beast

by Josh Anderson

  From your spot on the field, you can hear a few of the defensive players from the opposing Skyline High Jackals. They’re goofing around at first, but then the conversation turns serious.

  “I say we send a blitzer to roll into his knee. Take that prima donna down from his pedestal, and show those scouts they should really be looking at the Jackals D,” Jake Douglas says. He’s the Jackals’ team captain - an intimidating linebacker known to be as big of a jerk off the field as on.

  They’re talking about trying to hurt the Beast. They talk more about going after the same knee Bobby injured last season. The Beast had been lucky enough to avoid surgery after a big-time sack dislocated his kneecap last season. Another injury to the same knee could put his scholarship to Michigan in doubt.

  Even from a guy like Douglas, you can’t believe your ears. There’s an unspoken code that football players are supposed to follow that says you never try to injure someone. Injuries are part of the game, and everyone plays hard. But, trying to hurt a guy is supposed to be off limits.

  While an injury to the Beast would give you the opportunity to play, you don’t want to get your chance that way. You’ve got to do something, but what … ?

  GO TO PAGE 9. You tell Coach Dankert what you heard.

  GO TO PAGE 19. You tell the Beast instead, and let him handle it himself.

  You turn out of bounds, and nearly slam into a huge jug of Gatorade.

  “Sweet run, man!” one of the senior linebackers yells, slapping your helmet as you run back onto the field.

  Two plays later, you throw a perfect pass to your best buddy Dane on a crossing pattern and tie the game at 7-7. The next two drives for each team result in no scoring. But, late in the second quarter, your defense allows a field goal. You’re down, 10-7.

  You’ve got 40 seconds to try to score before the half. You hand off to your halfback – a risky play with so little time left - and he makes an amazing 36-yard run to the Jackals’ 27-yard line.

  By the time you race up to the line and spike the ball to stop the clock, there are only 14 seconds left in the first half.

  There’s time for one pass toward the end zone to try for a touchdown. If you don’t complete the pass, Coach will bring on the field goal unit to try to tie it before halftime. You run over to Dankert on the sideline to ask for the play.

  “Pistol Bunch 324 Z,” he tells you.

  You know it’s a passing play, but it must be one of the ones toward the back of the playbook because you don’t know it. Suddenly, you wish you’d given up the sleep and studied more last night. You freeze and just look at Coach, afraid for a second that he can read your mind.

  “Got it?” he asks.

  GO TO PAGE 15. You come clean and decide it’s better to be honest with Coach and tell him you don’t know the play.

  GO TO PAGE 32. You head out to the huddle and hope for the best.

  You decide against calling a timeout. When you attempt the handoff, the football slips from your grip. It hits the ground and bounces back toward your end zone. You turn around just in time to see Jake Douglas scoop up the ball and head down the field.

  There’s nothing anyone can do except watch as Douglas scores, and the Jackals celebrate.

  You get the ball back with two minutes left. The Jackals drop into a prevent defense, and you can’t complete a single pass. Your drive falls short and the game ends. You played very well, but it’s hard to feel good after a loss.

  On your way to meet Sara in the parking lot after the game, a man walks up to you. “Scotty, you have a second?” he asks. “I’m Thom Bravo, quarterbacks coach at Northern University.”

  You nod, trying to play it cool. It’s the first time a college scout has talked to you. “I just wanted to ask if you’ve given any thought to where you might play college football?” Bravo asks. “I’m asking unofficially, of course. We’re not allowed to talk for another couple years.”

  “I haven’t,” you tell him, which is mostly true, except for those times when you let your imagination run wild, thinking about where your golden arm might lead you one day.

  “Well, just keep us in mind when you start to think about schools,” he says. “We can talk more officially another time. For now, let’s keep this chat between the two of us.”

  You can’t believe your ears, and it’s honestly too much for you to think about tonight. This guy risked a major violation just to give you a hint that Northern was interested in you.

  You head out into the crisp night air and can’t believe the day you’ve had. And, to think, this was only the first game of your freshman season!

  THE END

  You see how desperate Coach is to rally up a few more guys to help search for Bobby. You step forward and join the small group standing next to Coach, but you’re the last player to do so.

  For the first time since you’ve known him, you feel bad for the Beast. It’s never been so clear to you that the team doesn’t idolize their star quarterback quite the same way the rest of the town does.

  The Beast has been cold and distant to you, but you assumed it was because you’re a freshman and he just isn’t interested in being a mentor. But what you’re seeing makes you realize that he must treat the rest of the guys the same way.

  It’s disappointing to hand a big opportunity to start over to Juan Garcia, but you had to follow your conscience. If you were missing, you hope more than three guys would care enough to miss kickoff.

  Dankert quickly talks game strategy with Coach Cox, then hands him his clipboard and leads you and the other volunteers off toward the immense parking lot next to Jack Hanson Memorial Field.

  “We checked his car already,” Coach says. “But, let’s split up and walk up and down all the aisles of the parking lot. Maybe he’s in someone else’s car.”

  “What would he be doing in someone else’s car?” Brooklyn Dogar asks.

  “Use your imagination, Brainiac,” Oliver Pembratt answers.

  You laugh, but can’t actually imagine the Beast missing part of a game just to make out in some girl’s car.

  You start walking down one of the aisles in the parking lot, looking into the windows of the cars on both sides. When you reach the end of one aisle, you start on another, then another. About 15 minutes after you start, everyone meets up again. You all confirm to each other that you’ve had no luck.

  Coach Dankert sends a text to Coach Cox. Cox writes back that Bobby still hasn’t shown up at the field. Now that the Beast is officially late for kickoff, Coach’s demeanor seems different. He looks very concerned.

  You’re all standing in a circle, waiting for Coach to decide what to do next when you first hear the sirens. You watch as two police cars pull into the parking lot with their flashers on. Then, another two. And, finally three more.

  You stand back with the other players watching as Coach approaches a tall, female officer, the first cop to get out of one of the vehicles.

  He talks to her for a couple of minutes and walks over to another police car. The officer opens the door and helps Bobby out of the back seat. He’s still in his uniform with no shoes.

  You watch as Bobby hugs Coach Dankert. You can see that the Beast is crying. He looks over at you guys, and everyone looks away, embarrassed to have caught him at such an emotional moment. You wonder what’s going on.

  Coach hands Bobby his telephone, and then walks over to the group. “Let’s get back to the field, guys. Bobby’s gonna be okay.” He doesn’t say it, but Coach makes clear that he’s not going to share what happened right now.

  “Is he gonna play tonight?” Pembratt asks.

  “Don’t know,” Coach said. “It’s up to him.”

  You make it back to the field late in the first quarter. The Crocs are down 21-0 to the Jackals. Juan Garcia has already thrown an interception and fumbled a handoff.

  You stand near Dankert on the sideline as he speaks quietly to Coach Cox. You learn a little bit about what happened to Bobby. Dankert tells Cox that
Bobby had walked back to the locker room to change out his cleats, but was stopped on the way by a couple of former Jackals players. The guys thought it would be funny to force Bobby into their car and drive him around long enough for him miss the game. What they won’t find so funny, Dankert tells Cox, is being charged with kidnapping. If they hadn’t been pulled over for speeding, Bobby would still be on their little joyride right now.

  As you eavesdrop on the conversation, the Crocs defense stops the Jackals on third down and forces a punt. Dankert looks in your direction, and signals for you to come closer.

  “Coming along with me today to look for your teammate,” Dankert says. “That’s the kind of thing a leader does.”

  “Thanks,” you tell him. “I was just worried about Bobby. That’s all.”

  “Like I said, you proved yourself a leader. Now, get out there and try to get us back into this game.”

  You do manage to pull the Crocs closer over the next two quarters. While you don’t play perfectly, you lead several nice drives, and only have to punt the ball back to the Jackals twice.

  You get the ball back after a Jackals punt with about six minutes left in the fourth quarter. You’re only down 38-34. If you can drive for a touchdown here, you can make the best of a very strange night. You’d also leave a very good memory in Coach’s head, even if the Beast comes back next week and you don’t see the field again all season.

  It takes four and a half minutes and ten plays to get to the Jackals’ 30-yard line. There are 90 seconds left in the game and you need a touchdown. Down four points, a field goal won’t help.

  On first down, you try a draw play to your halfback, Norm Henderson. Two Jackals stuff him at the line for no gain.

  On second down, your tight end, Liam Tormey, drops a perfect pass on a crossing pattern. It would’ve brought you 11 yards closer and been good for a first down.

  You’re in what people call “four-down territory.” No matter what happens here on third, you’re going to have to go for it on fourth down.

  You jog to the sideline to get the play. Coach Dankert calls a deep pass out of the shotgun formation with four receivers. You wish he’d call something a little shorter, giving you the chance at a first down. He explains that he wants to win it right here, when the defense still might expect you to try a short pass.

  You give the play to the huddle, and then line up. You take the hike from your center and drop back. Brooklyn Dogar’s completely blanketed by two defensive backs as he streaks down the left side of the field. Dane is covered tightly, streaking down the right side.

  There’s a small window to throw the ball up for Liam Tormey in single coverage, but he just dropped an easy pass which causes you to hesitate. By the time you bring your arm back to throw, you see the Jackals free safety heading toward Tormey.

  Out of the corner of your eye, you see Leo Ralphie, your fullback, open in the flat about three yards out. The pass might not get a first down, but you’d get another chance on fourth down.

  You look once more downfield and think you just might have a chance to hit Tormey as he crosses into the end zone …

  GO TO PAGE 21. You toss the ball long to Tormey, hoping the ball will get to him before the free safety can try to intercept it.

  GO TO PAGE 45. You dump the ball off to your fullback, a few yards out, even though it will likely result in fourth down.

  You decide to try to avoid a fight. “You know, maybe I heard wrong, Bobby,” you say. It just isn’t worth the possible repercussions to tell the truth. It’s the offensive line’s job to protect the quarterback, and yours is one of the best lines in the state.

  “Did you hear somethin’ or not, Fresh?” Beast asks.

  “Yo, Beast,” Jake Douglas says, “why are you listening to this freshman? I’ve known you since we were kids. We are gonna beat you, but we’re gonna do it the right way - on the field. Whatever this kid thought he might’ve heard, he got it wrong.”

  Then, your jaw practically hits the floor when Jake Douglas gives the Beast a man hug, and tells him, “Good luck tonight, bro.”

  You put your head down and walk back over to Dane.

  “What was that about?” he asks you.

  “Nothing,” you answer.

  Before the game, Coach Dankert tells you he wants you standing right next to him during the game. “Bobby stood next to me for a whole year before he ever took a snap. I need my quarterback to think like a coach.”

  The Crocs offensive line absolutely dominates. Jake Douglas and the Jackals defense never get within three feet of the Beast. Bobby throws four touchdown passes to lead the Crocs to a 45-7 victory.

  After the game, you meet up with your dad in the parking lot.

  “How’d it go?” he asks.

  “All right,” you say. “It was pretty cool standing next to Coach and learning why he was calling the plays that he did. Not as cool as being on the field, but it did make the playbook come to life.”

  “You’ll be ready when your time comes,” your dad says.

  “I’m hungry,” you tell him. “Let’s go eat.” You don’t even need to discuss where you’re going to eat. Ever since pee-wee football, you and Dad go for burgers at Meat Palace after every game, win or lose.

  Your dad smiles at you and gives a little wink. “I don’t want to get in the way of any other plans you might have, Mr. QB2,” he says.

  “Other plans?” you say. “We always go to—“

  Your dad gestures with his head to something behind you.

  You turn around and Sara is standing there. Her long blond hair is pulled back into a ponytail. “Um, hey Scotty,” she says. “A few of us were gonna go to Jemma’s Diner for food or whatever, and then maybe watch a movie at my house…. You wanna come?”

  You look back at your dad, who nods. “Just get home safe,” he says, smiling.

  You throw your shoulder pads and helmet into your Dad’s trunk, and walk over to Sara.

  “You looked really cute out there tonight,” she whispers into your ear. “So cute, I didn’t even want to watch the game.”

  “Does that count as a compliment, since you don’t even like football?” you ask.

  “I think you should take it as a compliment,” she says, grabbing your hand and weaving her fingers into yours.

  As you walk off into the evening, you smile. You think to yourself that this just might be the night you finally get up the guts to go for that kiss.

  THE END

  You start to unzip Pollock’s bag. Before you can slide the zipper more than an inch or two, you feel a hand on your shoulder.

  “Can I help you, kid?” Sam Pollock asks you, picking up the bag and pulling it to his side.

  You turn around and find yourself completely tongue-tied.

  “Hey, you’re the backup quarterback, huh? I’ve heard really good things about you,” he says.

  “I’m, uh, I’m really sorry,” you say. “I was—”

  The Beast moves next to you. “I asked him to grab something for me,” Bobby says. “He didn’t know that I changed lockers.”

  Pollock smiles. “Don’t worry about it, guys. Honest mistake.”

  “Yeah, an honest mistake,” says the Beast. “We were looking for my cleat wrench.” Cleat wrenches are used to remove cleats from the bottom of football shoes. “You haven’t seen a cleat wrench anywhere, have you Mr. Pollock?” Bobby asks him.

  There’s an uncomfortable silence as Pollock and the Beast stare at each other for a long moment. Before anyone can say another word, Coach Dankert walks up to the group.

  “Sharing war stories with the guys?” Coach asks Pollock.

  “Sure am,” says Pollock. “But, uh, I’ve actually got to get out of here. I just remembered I have an, uh, appointment.”

  Just like that, Pollock turns and leaves the locker room.

  “That’s odd,” Coach says. “The halftime ceremony has been planned for months.”

  Before Coach walks away, the Beast stops him.


  “Hey Coach, the whole thing with my cleats? Turns out Reardon didn’t have anything to do with it. Just a misunderstanding.”

  “Is that so?” Dankert asks. “All right then. Glad to hear it.”

  The Beast winks at you and walks over to his locker to get ready for the second half.

  THE END