I spin around just in time to see it, then jump on Miller in pure excitement. Coach walks up behind us and says, “Relax. We need more points.”
After a decent punt from Kansas City, we start on our 20-yard line. First play: Miller throws a 20-yard dart through the middle to Jack Sawyer, who’s tackled immediately. Second play: handoff to me. I bounce outside to the right and pick up 10 yards. We’re rolling, with strong motivation. I can feel the momentum.
The next play is another handoff, where I rush up the middle for 20 more yards. We’re unstoppable.
Then comes an amazing fake handoff, which Miller fools the entire defense. Briggs is wide open on the right side, catches the ball at the 15, and trots his way into the end zone completely untouched. We all pile onto him, screaming. Briggs does some ridiculous dance moves and makes a fool of himself, but I’m here for it. It’s his touchdown celebration, he should act as absurd as he wants.
We jog off the field while our kicker puts us up 7–0.
On the sideline, I rush up to Marcus, tap his ass, and say, “Get another safety for us, thanks babe.”
He smirks and winks. “Anything for you, boo.”
The rest of the half flies by in a blur. By the time the second quarter game clock hits zero, we’re up 17–0. We have full control of the game. I look up and see Nate and the others celebrating, with beer flying everywhere.
We head into the locker room, jumping and hollering, until Coach raises a hand. “Relax. We’re up 17, not 100, we need more,” he says, tone sharp. He launches into a ten-minute speech about staying focused and never giving up. It feels like forever before we finally head back out, ready to receive the ball.
Kansas City’s kicker shanks it out-of-bounds, free yards for us, and we start at our 40-yard line.
Miller glances at me and flashes a signal, which I know will be another fake handoff. I nod, acknowledging the plan. He calls "break", then hikes the ball. He fakes a handoff to me and fires a screen pass right back in my direction. I pull it to my chest, cut left, shake two defenders, and stiff-arm a third. I finally go down after I sprint for a 30-yard gain. Feeling bruised but ecstatic, I pop up and jog back to the huddle without a care in the world.
The next play is another handoff to me, where I make a quick cut to the right and charge ahead for 15 more yards. I’m completely winded and trot off for a breather.
Coach pats my helmet and says, “You’re killing it out there. Get some oxygen, we’ve got this.”
I grin. “Put me back in the next play.”
He nods. “You got it.”
The next play, Miller fakes a handoff to the backup running back, then tosses the ball backward to Briggs, who lobs it deep to a wide-open Miller in the end zone. Miller dives, catches it just before the goal line, and rolls in untouched.
The crowd loses it, and I look over and see Nate going wild.
Our kicker nails the extra point, putting us up 24–0. We’re putting on a clinic.
Miller sprints to the sideline with the rest of the offense. I smack his ass and yell, “Are we going to shut this fucking team out?! Let’s fucking go!”
I catch Coach giving me a sharp side-eye, not loving the jinx. And maybe he’s right to worry, but not this time. The rest of the game flies by without any competition. The fourth-quarter game clock strikes zero, and it's over. We win. 30–0, a complete shutout.
The crowd is deafening, with fans jumping and screaming. The team floods the field and piles on top of each other, celebrating the Hawks’ first playoff win in nearly ten years.
I finished the game with over 150 yards from scrimmage, which is a fantastic stat. My legs are dead, but my adrenaline’s still soaring. Next week’s game won’t be easy, as we face the number two seed. They are a better team, on paper, but I am more confident than ever. I’m just soaking in the moment.
In the locker room, everyone’s still amped. Miller shouts, “Drinks on me later!”
Marcus jumps in, “Nah, dude, drinks on me!”
I cut in. “Fine. Marcus, drinks are on you!” We all burst out laughing.
I change quickly, with pure excitement to see Nate, whom I arranged to meet near the lockers. As soon as I step out, I spot him leaning on a nearby wall. I rush forward and kiss him hard, wet on the lips.
“Babe,” he says breathlessly. “Congratulations. You won…and the contract?! We need to celebrate.”
I nod, grinning. “We’re all heading out after this. You down for some late afternoon drinking?”
He smirks. “Hell yes. Can the others come?”
“Obviously,” I say. “Go tell them. I’ll meet you guys out front, we’ve got a private table waiting. Pretty sure Miller reserved it.”
