Page 58 of Scored

“Yes, Coach.”

“Do you?”

Louder. “Yes, Coach.”

“Then go out there and get it.”

Back on the field, I stood near Coach Pratt as our kick return team caught the ball near the ten-yard line. Our kick returner made it all the way to the twenty-seven-yard line. I slapped Dennison’s shoulder pad as he ran out onto the field.

I heard Pratt’s call to Troy.

Our team was huddled.

With a clap, they dispersed to their positions.

The hometown crowd was quieter for our offense.

Spencer snapped the ball from shotgun formation; Dennison caught the snap and shuffled his feet. He sent the ball flying. It was a long pass. JD Downing was open. He turned as he hit his spot and caught the ball. He was wide open.

The crowd was on their feet as JD ran into the end zone.

“Touchdown, our Lex-ing-ton Coopers,” the Big Hurt roared.

Fireworks shot from the corners of the stadium.

Up on the jumbotron, I watched the replay. Dennison didn’t hesitate. He threw the perfect spiral. He and JD were hugging and jumping after the play. With the extra point, we were up 21–10.

The Bills scored a touchdown in the beginning of the fourth quarter. After their score, the Bills’ coach sent their offense back onto the field for a two-point conversion. It was a smart move. If they only scored one point, the score would be 21–17, a four-point differential. If they score two points, the score would be 21–18, a field goal away from a tie.

I held my breath as the Bills’ offense lined up.

Wilson handed the ball off to his fullback. Our defense came forward. Their fullback tucked the ball and ran a lateral route.

“The ball is out,” Pratt screamed.

Marcel Pickett scooped up the ball and started running. Garnet Warner blocked to Pickett’s side.

Big Hurt was calling the play in real time. “Pickett is at the fifty, the forty, the thirty…”

The entire stadium was on their feet.

“…the twenty, the ten. He’s in the end zone. A Lexington Coopers’ defensive two-point conversion.”

Everyone was slapping Pickett’s shoulders as he came back to the bench winded.

The score was 23–16.

I watched the replay on the big screen. The ball slipped from their fullback’s grasp. It was Pickett’s quick reaction that got us two points.

The Bills’ kicking team was on the field.

By the end of the game, the Bills scored one more field goal.

The Coopers won 23–19.

As the final seconds ticked off the clock, I searched for Vee. Clenching her clipboard, she stood, staring up at the jumbotron. Under the bright lights, her tears glistened on her cheeks. “We did it, baby,” I whispered.

Even though I hadn’t played one play during the game, I was elated with the win.