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“That was scary.”
“It’s the only way we could bring this home.”
I’m not sure about this, but I’m not the coach and Rooster knows what he’s doing. I trust him, and the team trusts him.
“We’re as good as there,” Rooster replies. “We’re done as long as we can hold them.”
I look at the time, and he’s right. There’s not enough time left for them to do anything unless they make magic happen.
When they get the ball, I hold my breath. If they score now, we’re fucked six ways to Sunday. The receiver gets to the 50-yard line, and the guys are moving quick, trying to beat the clock. Their offense lines up and the quarterback sees his opening and throws. Out of nowhere, it ends up in Bernie’s hands. He intercepts.
“Intercepted!” Rooster shouts. “That’s it! That’s the game!”
The whole team runs to Bernie and jumps on him. Rooster shouts and laughs and I shake my head—I can’t believe we had a last-minute interception. That’s why I love this fucking game.
The boys finish out the clock.
When we finally make it back into the change rooms, Rooster stands in the middle of the group of sweaty, heaving players.
“I don’t have to tell you guys how badly you fucked up,” he says. “You did exactly what I told you not to do—you got cocky.”
The guys groan and slump like teenagers.
“But,” Rooster continues, “you brought it back like fucking champions!”
They all cheer and Rooster grins, looking at his team like they’re his kids, with so much pride he could burst.
“Bernie,” he says. “That interception was amazing. You came out of nowhere.”
Darrell and Mason grab Bernie and mess up his hair, clap him on the back, while the others applaud. I watch them with a grin, sticking to the side. I love being this close to the action. I hate that I can’t be the one to play the games, but I’m so fucking invested in this team, so invested in Rooster and what he’s doing, it’s not so bad that I couldn’t have been on that field with dirt in my mouth and players trampling my fingers.
“Go on, shower up; you guys smell like pigs,” Rooster says after he tells them again how happy he is with the win, and he turns to me.
“If we weren’t in the middle of the season, I would have taken them all out for drinks.”
“Pity. We’ll get them bottles of water.”
Rooster laughs. “Yeah, protein shakes or kale smoothies.”
I laugh.
“But that doesn’t mean we don’t get to go out and celebrate. We’re going out for a drink, buddy.”
I nod. “I’m down for that.”
After Rooster takes care of the last of his business, we leave and drive to the seedy pub we usually visit. Rooster and I sit in our usual spots at the bar and order beer.
“What a night,” Rooster says. “Fuck, I thought we were going to lose it this time, man.”
“Me too. They had us there for a moment. But you pulled us through.”
“The guys are so fucking dedicated, it brings tears to my eyes.”
I nod. “This is the greatest game ever played.”
Rooster nods. “You bet. Man, this is what I live for.”
I know how he feels. I am just as swept up by the win, the excitement, the success. But my mind drifts to Raven.
