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The second quarter started with the sun in her eyes, so she fought hard to keep her eye on the wideouts, to watch the play develop. Felix caught a ball on the line, and she ruled it in. The Admirals threw a challenge flag, but the replay, caught on Yannick’s tablet, kept her rule.
The Vikings pushed down to the twenty, and then on fourth down, Coach Clay decided to rile the crowd—which she could admit seemed larger than usual—and go for it. He called time out when his attempt to entice the line offsides didn’t work.
She ran into the bench along with Arne and grabbed her water bottle.
“Watch for the fake,” Arne said.
Yep. The Vikings loved the fake punt, what with their punter a former QB for some German team.
She took the field, spotted Hud off the line, and sure enough, the center snapped it back, not to the punter but to Toby, who scrambled out of the pocket and zinged it to Hud, running hard for the end zone.
No defender, and he had a clear grab pulling it in, tucking it—
The cornerback came out of nowhere, even as she was calling the touchdown, and like a bull, came in full speed at Hud.
He hit him broadside, jerked him up, and then slammed him so hard she thought her own bones broken with the impact.
Then she just stood there, stunned.
Arne threw out his flag. “Unnecessary roughness!”
She glanced at him, back at Hud, who rolled to his back, breathing hard as his teammates came up to congratulate him, to help him up.
Hud glanced at her, something of question in his eyes, but she turned away and ran to Yannick.
He glanced at her. “Did you not see it?”
Yes, she’d seen it. But had let it sit in her brain, tossing it around, second guessing herself.
She simply didn’t trust her own instincts.
“Stay on your game. We don’t need any mistakes, Marshall.”
She nodded, took her position even as Hudson left the field. He was getting water and having a chat with the trainer as he eased himself onto the bench.
Maybe they wouldn’t be having dinner.
The Vikings booted in their extra point. She signaled that it was good, then lined up on the Vikings’ line for the kick.
It sailed into the end zone, touchback, and the Admirals took the field.
The game turned gnarly as the Admirals tore their way through the line, grubbing for every yard, and turtled their way up the field, eating up most of the second quarter.
They settled for a field goal as the teams headed into the locker room at the half.
Hud seemed to be limping a little.
She tried not to look and followed her crew into their office. She dropped her water bottle off in the basket outside the door for the trainer to fill, then went inside.
Yannick had taken off his white hat, threw it on the table. Hands on his hips, breathing hard.
She slid into her chair.
“Marshall. Please tell me that you have gone blind in the last two hours. Because I cannot figure out why you haven’t called one offensive pass interference or even an unnecessary roughness call on your favorite player.”
“My favorite—”
“Hudson Bly.” He leaned onto the table, sweat running down his angular face. “Are you trying to get him killed?”
