Chapter 6
The offense repositioned themselves on the other side of the field, preparing for their drive to the goal. The song 'Hell's Bells' by ACDC came on over the loudspeakers. Will heard the clear echo bouncing throughout the stadium. Will squirted water in his mouth, listening to the coach's new strategy for the second quarter. Against Miller, a change of tactics almost seemed essential if they wanted any chance at stealing the win. Meadow Ridge relied mainly on the running backs; hence the reason Will was considered the best in the state. In this case however, Halt's throw could rival any touchdown pass from Peyton Manning. Halt rarely has the opportunity to pass, so being able to identify one in a split second would be slightly more difficult. Will listened to the play that the coach was making for the first two downs. They were called back to the field and they quickly organized their huddle.
"I 20 bootleg," Halt announced quietly. "I 20 bootleg on two, ready break!" The huddle broke and the offense made their way to the line of scrimmage for the second time. Halt twisted his head around, checking to see if his formation was correct. Will crouched down, watching the defense, praying that they would take the bait.
"Down, 180, 180 set go!" Halt yelled. The offense did not dare move an inch, but Will saw the nose guard lurch forward slightly. The whistle sounded and the bright yellow flag was thrown again. The Miller coaches were screaming angrily, frustrated at their constant mistakes.
"Flag on the play against Miller," the commentator informed the spectators. The referee turned and faced upward into the stands while the offense and the defense moved forward five yards.
"Offsides: #56 on the defense, 5 yard penalty, remains first down," the referee called. Miller's players began scolding each other, their gruff voices emitting the words: "Watch the ball!" Halt listened for the coach's call and reformed the huddle.
"I 20 bootleg," he repeated. "I 20 bootleg on go, on go ready break!" Will crouched down once again, wishing that they could run something different. Halt squatted down beneath the center.
"Down, 180, 180, set go!" Halt yelled, taking the snap. Will watched the nose guard falter slightly, probably expecting a second signal. Will rushed forward and took the ball from Halt as he leapt overtop the nose guard's back. From what he could recall, Will never remembered touching the ground with his feet when the play ended. The middle linebacker lowered his body and slammed into Will, sending him a yard backwards.
"Number 23 of the Eagles, Will Treaty on the run," the commentator began. "Stopped by number 52, Eric Svengal for a short loss." He lay sprawled his back, trying to gather his thoughts. He could hear Miller's defense celebrating. Halt offered his hand to Will. Will took it and pulled himself to his feet. Halt clapped him on the chest and turned away to receive the coach's call. Halt called for the huddle again. Will shook his head, trying to relieve the slight pain in his neck.
"26 kickout," he said quickly. "26 kickout on go, on go ready break!" The offense reformed on the line; the defense scrambled about, calling strengths and coverage. Will replaced his mouthpiece back into his mouth. He bit down hard, sedating his nerves.
"Down! 180, 180 set go!" Halt yelled. He pitched the ball out to Will whose feet were moving so fast that they were nothing but a blur. He dodged a diving defensive end, a corner, and a linebacker. What Will did not notice was the very large safety, the captain that had tried to break his hand earlier. The safety crouched down and drove his entire body into Will's knee. Will fell over him face first into the ground. His knee was padded, but it felt it had just been hit hard by a hammer.
"Number 23 of the Eagles, Will Treaty on the run," the commentator repeated. "Tackled by number 28 of the Knights, Sean Ferris!" Will pushed himself painfully back onto his feet. His knee throbbed under his weight; Will ran back the huddle, biting his mouthpiece to ignore the pain in his leg. Halt stood waiting for him examining Will's demeanor. He stood awkwardly; Halt knew that Will had been hurt. He discarded it; Will would get up from being hit by a speeding car to impress Alyss.
"I 20 kickout," Halt said. "I 20 kickout on go, on go ready break!" Will ran painfully to his spot behind Halt. This was a passing play, but Will had to become a blocker. With his leg in this state, he was absolutely useless.
"Down, 180,180 set go!" Halt growled. He faked a run to Will who sprinted up the middle and engaged the oncoming linebacker. Will's knee felt like jell-o; he was no match for this brutal monster who sent him skittering towards the side. His heart sank as he watched the linebacker sprinted towards Halt. Surprisingly, Halt had a few tricks up his sleeve. He whipped around the diving linebacker and lobbed the ball into the air, reminiscent of the Miller quarterback. Will sat up painfully and saw the corner and Malcolm racing to the ball, trying to judge where it was to land. To Will's amazement, Malcolm reached it first. He leapt up like a ballerina and snatched the ball away from the invisible hands that carried it through the air. He dodged the corner and the massive safety that tried to maim Will. He stopped in the end zone and dropped the ball.
"Touchdown Meadow Ridge!" the commentator announced brightly. The home section of the stadium erupted in another wave of cheers. Halt helped Will to his feet and celebrated meekly, aiding Will to return to the sideline. Coach Duncan regarded Will and Halt and sat Will down on the bench.
"What happened?" he asked frantically. Malcolm and Crowley made their way over beside Halt. He squeezed Will's knee who screamed out in agony. Will thought of Alyss who had paid her way to see him play, to see him score like only an NFL running back could. He thought of how weak he was appearing to her and to the rest of the spectators. Will waved the coach away and stood painfully back to his feet.
"I'll be fine!" he muttered through gritted teeth. A loud kick emanated from their end of the field. The ball soared into Knight's territory. Will staggered slightly, trying to ignore the pain in his knee and see what was going on in the game. Yes, they were already ahead by fourteen points, but it was only the second quarter. Miller was more than capable of coming back and stealing the win. But as long as their defense remained solid, they might be able to hold onto this lead. Will observed as George was plowed unexpectedly from the side unlike Horace who plowed through a blocker as if he weighed next to nothing. He then reached the point that he wanted; face to face with the ball carrier. He leveled himself, dancing in front of the carrier, allowing him no space to run. He tried to fake a run to the left and go outside of Horace, but Horace had known that maneuver all too well. Horace drove him down, nearly denting the ground. The rest of the defense clamored about, strapping on their helmets and making their way onto the field. They drew strength from Horace's success; they drew strength from Horace's aggressiveness. Horace was their leader, their general in other words. He could hold them together regardless of how close the offense was to scoring. Coach Chubbs called out a play to Horace. Horace's loud growls could be heard from the top most seats of the stadium as the huddle broke and made their way to the line of scrimmage. Miller met them, a renewed sense of confidence of which source was unknown. The defensive and offense lines crouched down, staring murderously at one another. George mimicked the receiver across from him while Horace and the linebackers squatted down, watching from behind the defensive line.
"Down! Wide 80, wide 80, set go!" The Miller quarterback called. He faked a run to the running back. Horace did not take the bait this time. He swatted the running back aside, sending him stumbling forward onto his stomach. Horace rampaged up the middle, hoping, praying to stop the quarterback's opportunity to throw. Unfortunately, he was just a step too late. The ball escaped the quarterback's fingers just out of Horace's reach. The ball spiraled through the air towards the receiver of which George was to cover. Will's heart soared; he knew that George was going to shatter this play in a spot that Miller was so desperately desire. Startlingly, he felt a hand in his face mask, shoving him down. He gazed upward, watching the receiver take the ball into his hands and sprint the final twenty yards. George raised his arms in disbelief at the referee just as Coach Duncan was, expecting a flag to be thrown. Will saw the blatant double penalty; he wondered himself why the referees would ignore something that was so serious and so obvious.
"Come on!" George yelled frustrated at the referee who did not dare hurl his flag at the ground. The stands booed at the referee's discount.
"Touchdown Miller!" the commentator boomed, a hint of reluctance clear in his voice. It was the visiting section's turn to cheer. They made their voices heard, like they were trying to sound as loud as the home section. Miller's kicking unit punted the ball through the uprights, adding an extra point to their total. "The extra point is good!" Will's heart sank. So much for a solid defense the rest of the game. After that play, George might just fall apart or maybe grow reckless. Will strapped on his helmet and ran painfully after Halt and Malcolm onto the field. He jumped about, trying to push the pain out of his leg. Miller's kicker heaved the ball down the field with an echoing kick. The ball soared to Will's side of the field. In a split second, Will's mind had been sent to another world, a world where there was no pain, no injured knees. A world where only the fittest would survive. Will jumped into the air as he were standing on springs and felt the ball soar into his grasp. Will came down and took off like a freshly shot bullet. He dodged desperate defenders; he felt as if he no longer had control of his feet. He must have picked up fifty yards easily. He could see the end zone, at least forty yards away. A renewed sense of pride filled his chest, but had quickly faded. What Will did not expect was what had hit him from behind. He felt a brawny body drive itself into the back of his knee. His right leg bent from the unexpected hit and Will felt himself turned over on his stomach, covering the ball as if it were a baby endangered. Multiple padded bodies piled themselves on top of Will, trying to dislodge the ball. Whistles were blowing from every direction. Will felt the pressure on his back slowly relieve as Miller's football players were removed. He saw a yellow flag on the ground next to him.
"Kick by number 18 of the Knights, Martin Bartell. Returned for a gain of fifty for the Eagles by number 23, Will Treaty!" the commentator called. "Flag on the play against the kicking team!" Boos from the visiting side of the stadium could be heard. Will no longer felt his knee. It felt as if he didn't have a knee. It was an effort trying to get back to his feet on his own, an even greater effort trying to stand. The referees discussed at the fifty yard line for a few minutes and then the head turned around to face the commentator's box.
"Personal Foul: Unnecessary Roughness, number 18 of the kicking team, fifteen yard penalty, first down!" the referee announced. Will could hear the cheering from the home section of the stadium, unlike the displeasure of the visiting team. He limped painfully to the huddle where Halt was listening to the call from Coach Duncan. He turned back to the awaiting offense.
"I 20 kickout reverse!" he growled emphatically. "I 20 kickout reverse, on two, ready, break!" Will felt thankful for that call; it would give him a few seconds to rest. Penalties were certainly an excellent weapon against Miller if they wanted any chance to defeat them. Will crouched down, watching Horace reach underneath the center, awaiting the snap.
"Down! 180…180 set go!" he barked. The offense did not dare move an inch, or at least on their own. Nearly the entire defensive line had grown overexcited and jumped, knocking a couple lineman backwards. Whistles were blowing from every direction and flags were soaring through the air. The referee picked up the ball and moved the ball five yards forward. Miller's defense was probably at its breaking point where their tempers were not ones to be tested.
"Flag on the play against the defense!" the commentator boomed through the microphone. The referee walked to middle of the field and turned to face the spectators.
"Offsides: #57 of the defense, five yard penalty, remains first down!" the referee announced. The sound of Miller's coaches screaming 'watch the ball!' could probably be heard from the home section of the stadium. Halt recalled the offense, listening for the call.
"I 20 kickout reverse!" he repeated. Will's heart sank. He would have to run in the direction of the massive safety. "I 20 kickout reverse, on go, on go, ready break!" The offense met the defense on the line, squatting down into their positions. Will crouched down, ready to take the ball. Halt reached down, awaiting the snap.
"Down! 180…180 set go!" Will watched horrified as the ball slipped from Halt's grasp. The entire offensive line dove forward, trying to surprise the defense for Halt to secure the ball. The whistle blew from behind them. Will was beginning not to like their chances. Miller was starting to have a mental effect on them. Pretty soon, they would be able to bend it to their advantage. Will walked back to the huddle, unbelieving of what had just taken place. Coach Duncan told Halt to forget about it and called the next play to him. The guilt had not yet faded from his face. Will heard a new breath next to him. He turned and saw the tall form of Horace standing next to him. His heart rejoiced at the sight of this behemoth; Horace was a full back at rare times, but he was the best that they had. Apparently, this was a desperate enough time that they had called for him. Halt knew exactly what to call.
"I 20 bootleg," Halt informed them. "I 20 bootleg, on go, on go, ready break!" Horace crouched down in front of Will and behind Halt. The entire stadium went silent, as if this sight had stolen their breaths away.
"Down! 180...180 set go!" Halt growled. This time, he received the snap and faked the run to Horace, shoving the ball into Will's grasp instead. Will ran behind Horace's cover, watching him run through the middle linebacker as if he were made of paper. Will saw the first down marker out of the corner of his eye. He focused his attention ahead of him. Horace and Will faced the two safeties. Horace engaged the smaller of the two, leaving Will to dance with the massive one. Will darted off to one side, nearly throwing off his balance. Unfortunately, the safety dove at caught Will in the already agonized knee. Will fell forward once again; his knee was throbbing heavily; each throb was slightly more painful than the last. Will bit his lip in an attempt to keep from screaming out.
"Number 23 of the Eagles, Will Treaty on the run!" the commentator announced. "Tackled by number 28 of the defense, Sean Ferris!" Will extended his knee and almost immediately let out a lacerated wail. He rolled himself over and pushed himself painfully back to his feet. He limped back the huddle, ignoring the looks the rest of the offense was giving him. Doubts were running through Horace's and Halt's minds; maybe this wouldn't be the year they would defeat Miller. Coach Duncan conversed with Coach Arald and called out a play to Halt.
"I 40 bootleg," he told them, a slight growl in his tone. "I 40 bootleg on go, on go, ready break!" Paroxysm shot through Will's leg as he crouched down; Will discarded it as he thought of Alyss in the stands.
"Down! 180…180 set go!" Halt growled, taking the ball from the center. He shoved the ball into Horace's grasp. Will ran behind Horace, his head whipping around rapidly, hoping that no one would blind side him. Horace pitched the ball backwards towards Will. The ball bobbled in his arms when opportunity presented itself to the middle linebacker, who drove his body into Will's thigh. Will watched helplessly as the ball soared out of reach. By some miracle, the ball had rolled just inside the sidelines. Will heaved a breath of relief and pain. He pulled himself back to his feet and staggered slightly. The referee picked up the ball and placed it on Miller's 40 yard line.
"Number 51 of the Eagles, Horace Altman on the run, pitched back to number 23 Will Treaty for a gain of twenty!" the commentator announced. "Tackled by number 52 Eric Svengal of the Knights!" But even with Horace at full back, it would take time, time that they didn't have to reach the end zone. Coach Duncan yelled a play out to Halt. Will could see desperation building inside him. This was almost like a stepping stone on the road to a state championship.
"I 80 reverse!" he growled. "I 80 reverse on go, on go ready break!" Will gulped at the sound of the play. He would get the opportunity to shine in front of Alyss, but with the state his knee was in, it would be more like an opportunity to play the fool. Nevertheless, Will crouched down behind Halt.
"Down! 180…180 set go!" Halt bellowed, taking the snap. He pitched the ball out to Will who staggered slightly in his bound. He slowly forgot about the searing pain in his leg as he sprinted down the sideline. He dodged the outside linebacker and the smaller safety and sprinted into the end zone.
"TOUCHDOWN EAGLES!" the commentator boomed over the screaming crowd. It felt as if the pain had magically subsided as Will made his way back over to the bench. He pointed off in Alyss' direction just as George had done with Ashley. He was close enough to the stands that he could see her perfect smile project itself in his direction. He felt clops on his back as he made his way over to the water cooler. Horace hugged him tightly; Halt patted Will on the shoulder. The feeling of cold water splashing over their heated, sweat drenched faces was as if someone had removed the heavy burdens they were carrying. Will snuck a look back at Alyss who was staring at him admirably. Crowley's thunderous kick emanated from the end zone and the stands erupted in another wave of excitement. The scoreboard now read 28 – 14 Eagles. Crowley, Horace, and George strapped their helmets back on and sprinted back onto the field. Halt whipped his wet hair around, spraying Will.
"So when are you going to ask her?" he asked Will. Will regarded him.
"Ask who?" he asked. Halt shot him a look of disbelief.
"This is the girl you've liked since we were freshman and you ask who?" Halt scolded.
"Oh! Well, I uh," Will began. He hadn't really thought about since the game against Miller had drawn nearer. Halt slapped a hand over his face in disbelief.
"You don't know?" he blurted out. Will regarded, a strange expression visible on his face.
"Why are you worried about me?" he asked. "You're against me in this thing!" Halt sighed deeply. It looked as if the next thing he said was paining him.
"Will to be honest, as we spent more time together, I kind of saw how stupid I was being," Halt began. A joke pieced itself together in Will's head, one that Will found it too hard to resist.
"You're not going to tell me you like me are you?" he asked him, a broad grin spreading on his face. Halt glared at him, but amusement slowly crept onto his face.
"Shut up," he muttered. "Look, I don't care about beating you anymore. You're my friend and I want you to be happy." Will couldn't believe what he was hearing. Halt had given in, he was letting Will have Alyss.
"Wow thanks!" Will thanked appreciatively.
"Which brings us back to my original question," Halt went on. "When are you going to ask her?" Will shrugged. He thought of Alyss' pool party. The fact that he didn't have a gift for her summoned guilt into his chest. But then again…
"Well, her birthday is tomorrow and she invited me and my friends," Will pointed out. He looked at Halt. There was no pleading or hopeful look upon his face, but Will saw it only fit that he repay Halt by asking him to come. "Why don't you come with us tomorrow?" Halt pondered on it and shrugged.
"Eh, why not?" Halt accepted, appreciation forming in his face.
"Hey, would it be crazy if I told her on tomorrow?" Will asked curiously. Halt pursed his lips and shook his head. Halt was similar, if not, just like Will when it came to stealing the hearts of girls.
"Of course not!" he replied. "In fact, it will probably be sweet to her if you told her tomorrow anyways." Will smiled at his friend and clapped on the back. Crowley's kick echoed throughout the stadium like a gun shot. The kicking unit followed as the ball soared through the air like a bird and into the awaiting arms of the receiver. They had obviously devised a new strategy, one that was working very well. Horace was blocked the massive safety and what looked to be their middle linebacker while George had entangled himself amongst the arms of the nose guard. The runner darted through the gaps in between the battling players and into the end zone. The visiting section sounded like a bomb that had just exploded. The receiving team celebrated with one another, diving on top of the runner as they brought their score up an extra six.
"TOUCHDOWN KNIGHTS!" the commentator boomed. The kicking unit brought about the same success, driving an extra point onto the board through the uprights. Will's spirits soared as the horn sounded, signaling the end of the first half. The scoreboard read 28 – 21 Eagles. Horace and Will led the team back through the gate into the locker room. The Eagles' spectators would not dare silence their cheers; the commentator's voice was drowned out by their volume.
"That's the end of the first half with Miller at 21, Meadow Ridge at 28. Please visit the concession stand for some pizza and other available delicacies while watching the halftime show presented by the cheerleaders!" the commentator announced. Enthusiastic feminine yells could be heard on both sides of the field; Will noticed Alyss rushing over to the rail to get a last glimpse of him before he went into the locker room. He looked up at her and directed a wave. Alyss' cheeks flushed a deep shade of red as she waved back him. Horace regarded him and shoved him slightly. Will's heart never felt so light in his life; a victory over Miller and being with Alyss would be a fantasy he never thought would be fulfilled.
"Tell her you clueless ballerina!" Horace mused. Will felt his mouth twist in amusement. Will pulled open the locker room door with vigor, leaving himself to his motivational head banging music and his private, fantasies he wished to turn to reality.