Kennedy
Holy shit. This homecoming game is no joke. The stadium’s packed, and I’m pretty sure the announcer said it’s a record crowd, but it’s nearly impossible to hear anything over the roar of the fans. It’s one of Waverly’s famous whiteout games and the stadium is awash in, well, white. I don’t think there’s an Ohio fan to be found, and the band is bringing down the house with something peppy and upbeat as the offense drives down the field.
Reid’s on his game and the O-line is playing well, but we’re down by three and it’s starting to look like this thing might go down to the wire. My stomach churns with nervous energy and there’s a real possibility I might hurl. I can’t stop thinking about the week six game and the forty-six-yard field goal I missed.
That cannot happen today. It would put Waverly’s shot at the national title in jeopardy, but even more importantly, I’d probably be tarred and feathered by the fans before I could escape the stadium. I have zero interest in killing the homecoming spirit that’s taken over the entire town. Hell, Wildcat Nation.
So, yeah. I’m only half watching the game as I practice kicking into the net. My leg is loose and my form is good. Conditions are optimal. What more could I ask for?
Besides a gimme?
Pfft. No such thing as a gimme in football. Even a twenty yarder can be blocked.
I steal a glance at the scoreboard. Reid’s third and long. If he doesn’t convert on this drive, Jackson will be calling for me. I close my eyes and draw a deep breath, doing my best to push out the noise of the crowd. Turns out, it’s impossible.
I give up and turn my attention to the field just in time to see Reid get sacked at the twenty-two.
“Carter! You’re up!” Jackson bellows, adjusting the visor on his hat, a sure sign he’s sweating this kick. He always fidgets when he’s nervous.
Thanks for the vote of confidence, dude.
“You’ve got this,” he says as I slide past him. “No wind. Get it up quick!”
I give him a curt nod and jog onto the field. The stadium noise begins to die down as I walk off my steps and line my body up with the upright.
Thirty-nine yards.
Just thirty-nine yards and I can haul ass back to the sideline and lose myself in the anonymity of the team. Piece of cake.
The ball is snapped, but it’s short. James has to reach for it and loses his footing.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Panic beats a staccato rhythm through my veins as he struggles to plant the ball. There’s no time. Laces out or not, I’ve got to move if we want to have any shot of making this thing. I take one short step, followed by two longer ones and swing my foot, the cleat connecting with a loud thwump as the ball takes flight. I watch it sail through the air, not daring to breathe. It’s leaning right, but I didn’t totally shank it. There’s a chance… Yes!
Tie game. I punch my fist in the air as the refs raise their arms to signal a field goal. The crowd goes nuts, the screaming and stomping so loud it’s a wonder the ancient stadium doesn’t come crashing down around us.
I jog over to James and praise his solid recovery. The guy’s got crazy fast hands and he totally saved my ass out there. No way I could’ve salvaged that ball if our positions were reversed. He blushes a bit, but I can tell he’s pleased with the compliment.
When I return to the sideline, I’m met with high fives, fist bumps, and a few slaps on the ass, which I interpret to mean good work. I grab a drink of water and settle in to watch some more football. Ohio’s three and out deep in their own territory. I do a mental happy dance when they’re forced to punt and before I know it, Reid’s back on the field.
The game goes on like this for a while, neither side scoring, but both delivering a lot of blows. I see more blood, sweat, and grass stains than usual with neither team yielding ground. The clock’s running out. Only two minutes to go when Waverly gets the ball back and now I’m hovering on the sideline with the rest of the team, hoping, praying, cheering for Reid and the offense to find the end zone.
Reid completes a pass to Coop for a first down but he’s tackled almost immediately. They run the ball on the next play, followed by another pass. Then it’s first and goal and I’m biting my damn nails as the play clock runs down.
Ohio’s defense rallies and they crush our offense.
Same result on second and goal.
Reid passes on the next play, but Coop is tackled short of the goal line. It’s forth and inches now with only seconds to go and I swear I’m going to crawl out of my skin. The stadium has once again reached fever pitch. I don’t know how Reid could possibly call a play over this kind of noise.
Not that it matters. Everyone knows it’s going to be a running play.
And it is. Ohio defense piles up on the center, but Reid tucks the ball under his arm and punches it through to score the game-winning touchdown.
Up until this point, it’s been the crowd going wild, but when Reid puts up six points, the team goes crazy on the sideline. The clock’s run out and the extra point isn’t required, so the team rushes the field. Someone grabs my arm, sweeping me up in the frenzy. The team gathers near the end zone, congratulating Reid and celebrating a much needed victory
