All There Is

6.Matt

Send Me an Angel // Real Life

Our offensive line is focused in the huddle. I block out the sound of the crowd and call the play. The rest of the line is ready, waiting, intense.

"Sweep on 3!" We break the huddle, but I grab the face mask of Jeff's helmet and pull him in. "Throwing long today. Stay open."

His head isn't in this game and the scoreboard shows it. Jeff hasn't had as much playing time as we both hoped. I have no idea what's going on with him, but he avoids coach's eyes more than I avoid my dad's.

"Got it."

We set the line of scrimmage. I plant myself under center and count off. "Sixteen, twenty-one, thirty-four, hike!" The ball is in my hands. I step back and line up my throw. Jeff is at the thirty and wide open. Maybe the only good thing about him being off his game is that the other team isn't paying him much attention today. I launch the ball with the perfect spin. I know it will land. If Jeff can just hold on to it, we'll double our yardage in one play.

I hold my breath, listening as Micah and Gio knock down the defenders aiming for Jeff now that they realize he's under the ball. The catch is a beauty. Jeff pulls it right in while twisting at the waist. And he holds on, turning back toward the goal line and pressing forward. Five yards, ten, then fifteen. At twenty yards past the point of reception, Jeff is knocked out of bounds by the safety.

But we covered more than half the field with this play. First down.

The score has us three points down, damn field goal, and this could pull out the win. One more play could make it happen.

"McKinley!" Coach calls me just as we get the line going.

Seriously? He's pulling me out now, right when we have momentum? A delay could ruin what we've just opened up. But I'm a freshman so I don't argue. I've never argued with my coach, not on any team. But this coach has been in a perpetual bad mood for the entire season, so I'm tempted.

"Yeah, Coach?" I'm hoping he's just changing a play and not benching me.

"Benson is going in." Reign Benson is a fifth-year senior. He jumps off the bench and takes position. The guy red shirted his freshman year, something I'm starting to wish I considered but it would have affected my scholarship standing so it never crossed my mind.

It's when I take the bench that I notice Jeff was also pulled. I throw him a look, suddenly wondering if the two bad moods are somehow related. Jeff glances at me but just shakes his head and waves away my attention. Fine, I'll play. I won't ask the big questions.

Yet.

But I'm not sitting on the sidelines silently much longer. This shit needs to get worked out because my plans don't include a scholarship for a losing team. I watch as Benson passes the ball to our second string running back. They complete the play without a penalty, thankfully, but only gain two yards. Eight more for a first down, thirteen and we'll score. Then if we just run down the clock, we'll have another win under our helmets.

'If' is such a loaded word. As I watch, that chance of 'if' dies off. One missed short pass, another quarterback sack with a five-yard loss, and finally the last nail in the coffin.

Fumble.

The other team runs the ball a total of ninety-one yards in three plays for a touchdown. They are able to run down the clock without our team gaining a yard. We don't even gain an inch.

Game over. We lose.

***

"Fuck!"

Helmets clatter against benches as the team settles in the locker room. Mine included. I'm pissed. I put my fucking heart on that field, and so did practically this entire team. Whatever flew up Coach's ass is what kept us from the W. We had the momentum, but he pulled the plug on anything that we had rallied for. If this had been my high school team, I would have spoken up. I had that kind of position in the locker room, no matter that I led with my asshole ego. Guys listened.