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“Stark! Take a breather. Carter, you’re in on the next play.”
I tried to keep the excitement out of my voice as I replied, “You sure, boss?”
“Don’t make me regret it, Carter.”
I put my helmet on. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”
I jogged out onto the field and joined the huddle. Dallas gave me an appraising glance.
“Welcome to the party. You want the ball?”
“Shit, skipper,” I replied. “I always want the ball.”
“Get your ass open, then.” He peeled open the playsheet on his wrist. “Red seventeen…”
On the next play, I couldn’t get open. The defender was all over me, so Dallas hurled the ball to Kincaid on an out route. But it was slightly overthrown, and the wide receiver couldn’t get his hands on the ball.
I glanced at the sideline. Coach was still watching, without any signal that he was swapping me out.
Dallas called a screen play next. We crowded the left side of the line as he tossed the ball to the running back, and I ran out ahead of him to make a block. By the time our running back was brought down, we had gained four yards.
Third down. We needed this play if we were going to establish any momentum in the second half. This time, I didn’t glance at the sideline. I didn’t want to give the coach a chance to think about putting Andrew back in.
On the next play, the Broncos suddenly rushed forward with a vicious six-man blitz. The goal was to keep Dallas from having any time to throw the ball. My route was a slant across the middle of the field, and Dallas quickly hurled the ball toward me while falling backward under the defensive blitz.
It was under-thrown, but I recognized it immediately and adjusted my route. I leaned forward, arms outstretched, fingers grasping desperately. Somehow, I was able to snag the football with my fingertips before it touched the ground.
I planted my feet and spun sideways, avoiding the tackle I knew was coming. That fooled the defender who was covering me, and his hand scraped across my shoulder pad without finding any purchase.
I turned upfield.
When spectators watch football on TV, a yellow line is superimposed on the image to show where the first down is. In real life, we didn’t have that on the field. But I was a veteran, so I instinctively knew how far I had to go. The thirty-two yard line was about six strides away from my current spot.
One step. The other defenders broke away from their coverage. Two steps. They collapsed toward me like a balloon deflating. Three steps and four steps, they were lowering their shoulders. I lowered mine as well, took one final step, and dove between two of them with the football extended out in front of me, like an offering being given to the football gods.
I took a rough hit from one of the defenders as our shoulders slammed together. A jolt ran through my muscles and I felt my spine momentarily compress. Then I was on the ground and the other players piled on top of me, like too much gravity weighing me down.
When the players all peeled off me and I rolled sideways, the ball was just over the line. The ref signaled that we had a first down.
I hopped up and pointed downfield, mimicking the ref’s signal. My shoulder ached, but I’d taken worse before.
“All right, all right, let’s go,” I said as I rejoined the huddle. “That’s right, boys. They can’t stop the Stallions when they stampede, baby.”
Double-D barked a laugh. “That sounds real cheesy.”
“Won’t be cheesy when we trample these Colorado fools.”
“Good to have you back,” Dallas said to me. It was a quick comment, but it held the weight of a lifetime of friendship and support. “Okay, this next play…”
We moved down the field, one play at a time. I caught a second pass, then a third. Coach took me out for the play after that, but then sent me back in once I’d caught my breath.
I felt like myself again. It was like I had weights tied around my ankles before, and now I was playing unburdened.
When we got down into the red zone, Dallas hit me on a stick route on the left side of the field. I dodged one tackle, took off toward the end zone, and dove for the pylon. When I rolled to a stop, the ref had both hands in the air to signal a touchdown.
“Yeah, buddy!” I said, hopping to my feet. A few teammates gathered around to see if I would run around or do some other celebration for the cameras.
My dad thinks you’re cocky, Taylor’s voice echoed in my head.
“Let’s act like we’ve been here before, boys!” I said, high-fiving teammates and sharing grins. “Besides, it looks like coach wants us to go for two. Let’s do it again.”
We lined up, and now the Broncos defenders double-teamed me with two defenders. That opened things up on the left side, though, and Dallas was able to hand the ball off to the running back who cruised into the end zone easily.
Now we were only down 18 - 21.
I ran back to the sideline, passing the cheerleaders on the way. I gave Taylor, the woman I loved, a beaming smile. Now that we didn’t have to hide it, she grinned back at me every bit as hard.
