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CHAPTER NINE
PHOENIX
The roar of the crowd and the rush that only football gave me saturated every cell of my being. I lived for the game, even from the sidelines, I stood by Coach, analyzing every move on the field.
We took the field, coming off an interception, which resulted in the other team scoring. When we’d gotten the ball back, McAffrey had been sacked twice for leaving the pocket and taking too damn long to throw the ball when at least one wide receiver had been open. And we were back again, after the other team scored. The stadium’s volume came in thunderous waves. They were with us and against us.
My fingers curled in anticipation as the offensive line got into position. The center snapped the ball to McAffrey. He backed up, looking, looking, looking. He hesitated too long. Tension rippled through me. The tight end was open. Downfield, Cole broke away enough to snatch the ball out of the air.
McAffrey’s arm went back, his sight on Cole. I stepped a half foot forward as a defensive guard broke through our left guard. The ball tipped from McAffrey’s fingertips as he was sacked. Our right tackle lunged for it.
A roar tore through the opposing team’s fans, contrasting with the groan from our sideline. McAffrey was shaken. He stood with the help of the right tackle. They lined back up, and I held my breath as the center snapped the ball. McAffrey dropped back, spotted Cole and launched it, only for the ball to fall short and right into the hands of the other team’s cornerback. Fortunately, the guy dropped it.
A collective boo rumbled through the audience like a well-fired weapon, chipping away what remained of McAffrey’s confidence.
It was fourth down, and I cringed when the defensive line took a two-gap lineup. McAffrey would go down, again. A low chant started somewhere in the crowd, gradually building in volume until I could make it out.
“Phoenix, Phoenix, Phoenix.” It both pained me and pumped me up. I wanted to be on that field.
The crowd’s voice grew in strength, setting a rhythm, and before the snap, Coach called a time out. I tightened the strap on my helmet, already knowing what he would do. It was fourth and eight. We needed a first down and to get back in the game.
Coach turned and yelled, “Get in there and fix this mess.”
I sprinted onto the field, replacing a dejected McAffrey as the echo of the announcer rose above the crowd’s cheers. “And it’s Bennett coming in after several weeks out due to a hand injury.”
We didn’t waste time. I called the play, and we lined up. The center snapped the ball. The familiar feeling of the laces in my right hand made me block out everything but the play. I backed up, feeling where the defenders were as I swept the field. They were hungry, coming off the QB sack and near interception.
I had less than a second, found my target, then launched the ball. Damon tore down the field, looking up at the right moment.
He plucked it from the air in a two-finger catch before pulling it into his chest and running for another twelve yards before he was tackled.
First down. We had another four plays. We wouldn’t need them. Damon had gotten us within twenty yards of the end zone. We lined up, and the center snapped the ball. Cole jetted downfield.
I threw a rocket to him. He pivoted, caught it, and curled it into his chest just as we’d practiced hundreds of times. Damon kept pace, blocking two defensive players while Cole ran into the end zone. The crowd was on their feet after that. It was pandemonium.
It was my job. My future.I can’t give this up. Somehow, I would have to work with the new tutor my advisor had sent over.
Shane was on defense, as the coach was trying a new position for him and occasionally Damon. He and Damon were beasts. They could block all day long and also had the speed and finesse to run the ball.
After a good extra-point kick, our defense held the field, and when it was my turn to go back in, I put everything aside other than the game. Playing on the university’s field was amazing. By the time we wrapped up the game with a solid win of twenty to seventeen, I felt like I could tackle anything in life.
Then I glanced to where Riley and Skylar were and spotted Aspen. My gaze locked on her, and everyone else disappeared. The forward momentum of my teammates was the only thing that made me continue walking. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkled, and she glowed. She was even more beautiful than ever before, if that was possible.
“Phoenix.” A deep, rough voice cut through the intimate connection between Aspen and me, and I whipped my gaze to where the sound had come from. Not even ten feet from where the team headed to the locker room, Grandad leaned against the wall with a knowing smirk on his weathered face.
“Grandad!” The euphoria from the game carried into my voice, and I was glad that he’d made it.
“Phoenix.” He slapped me on the back as I paused next to him. “Great game. I’m here to take you boys out to dinner. Tell your brother.”
I agreed then headed to get showered and meet up with him, and some of the post-game thrill ebbed when I didn’t immediately find Shane.
Coach walked into the locker room, and a hush settled over us as we gave him our attention.
“Today ended in victory. We win as a team, and we lose as a team. Don’t focus on the bad, the missed catches, tackles, or fumbles.” Coach looked in quick succession at McAffrey, Jones, Davenport, and a few others. “Brush those off and do better next time.” Then he briefly glanced at me then Cole and Shane, whom I spotted behind Davenport. “Help your teammates to grow and be the best they can be. And focus on the effort we put out on that field today. That’s what defines and unites us as a well-oiled team.”
A deafening roar sounded as he finished, bringing with it a wave of adrenaline and comradery.
“All right, get changed and have a good night. I’ll see you all at practice.”
