QB Sneak

Chapter 4: Life Catches Up to Winston

In the locker room, I hung out around the back with the other reserve guys like Tucker Dunlap, the backup linebacker and Donnie Haywood, a second-string tight end.

"You know, Winston, you're gonna have to step up." Tucker reminded me.

"Yeah," Kaden Brewer, the reserve lineman interjected. "Alex is graduating this year. Might wanna take your job more seriously. You never know when you're gonna have to get in there." 

The guys were right. I motioned for Donnie and Maikel Oliver, a freshman runningback to take my side, but they both suddenly became very interested in their feet. I groaned and walked away, not wanting to think about next year. Halftime ended, and we emerged from the tunnel This time I was in the back, jogging out alone with a coach holding my helmet.

The third quarter began with Darius kneeling the kickoff in the endzone, starting us off at the 25 yard line. Alex handed off to Knox, who pounded it down 5 yards, before an incomplete pass and Quentin Farmer getting called for pass interference led to Evan Chandler punting it away. Then, Channing connected with Westbrook for 36 yards before connecting with Bryce Ennis for a sack. The hits came on coming until on 4th down at the Hawks own 32, the left tackle that Bryce was trying to evade slammed his helmet into Bryce's gut. Bryce crumpled to the ground. No flag. Channing and the offensive lineman exchanged fist bumps. This enraged us, so PJ Shoop, the punt returner, purposely trucked Connor when he was run out of bounds. That oughta knock some sense into him. Connor got back up, disgusted, and began chatting with his offensive lineman. I was too distracted by this to see Alex heave a long pass to Nate Catanzaro. Nate was a taller, slower wide reciever, but he managed to cover a decent amount of ground before the defender brought him down. This put us in position. Excited, I called the play to Alex. 

"34. 34." I shouted to Alex from the sideline. We were dialing up QB Sneak to try to punch it in. Reluctantly, Alex nodded. 

"Seeet! Alright, blue, motion!" Tad moved to the right side. DeeDee tapped his foot on the ground. "Seet, lets go!" Alex took the snap, danced around the pocket for a minute, and then took off. He didn't go far, however, as he took 3 steps before a defensive lineman speared him, making Alex's brain mush.

That was what it looked like, at least.

Alex laid sprawled out on the ground as Coach, the team managers, and I all sprinted out to his position. Panicked, Coach turned around.

"Paddock! Get outta here, and go warm up with Lovato or something!"

I almost thought he was joking. I had yet to take a game snap since preseason scrimmages. Chase Lovato, the emergency QB and special teams hitman poked me on the shoulder. I turned around, and he quickly tossed me a football, before backing up. I began tossing it, shaking off the rust. Chase tossed it back, and suddenly, throwing came back to me. As Alex was carted off the field, Coach motioned for me and Dee Dee as the crowd gave thunderous claps for Alex. I nervously trotted out onto the field as Kyle Shanks called signals for me.

"23." Kyle called. I checked my wristband with a cheat sheet inside. There it is. 

22: HB Power Rip

23: HB Dive Liz

24: HB Dive Rip

I came into the huddle and told the boys my play.

"Alright, HB dive Liz. Blake, take the handoff and smash through the tackle. On 2."

The Hawks adjusted their coverage accordingly. I called my signals. "Ready! Seeeet! Motion, 8! Motion, 8!" Nate Catanzaro moved across the line of scrimmage. "Hut, hut!" I caught the snap and was alarmed to see Knox barreling towards me. Panicking, I quickly swiped the ball upwards, and Knox brushed by me. Blake Gilbert, my target, came a few steps behind. I nearly swiped the ball away from him, too, but luckily he managed to get his hands up quick enough to take the ball and, using Knox as a meat shield, he dove through the offensive line. 

I was lucky enough to not get smeared into Winston grease on my first play. Nice.

The next play, however, wasn't so lucky.

"Seeet! Setgo!" I called. I hopped around in the pocket anxiously, waiting for DeeDee or Darius to get open. Then, I got blindsided by a defensive lineman and crumpled to the ground. Instantly my whole body was enveloped by pain. Alex took this kind of abuse on a daily basis? Props.

It wasn't until after the stands gave me an earful that I realized the ball was, unlike my previous assumptions, in the arms of a West Bridge linebacker who was chugging 25 yards away from me, with Jack Harter, Knox, and Chris Maroon trying to pull him down. It took me a minute to realize where I was, which was all alone, flat on my back, staring into those bright lights. It took me a couple more to realize I had fumbled, and I probably never would had it not been for Marcus Kidworth and Devin Servant, who gave me a round of sarcastic applause once I made my way back to the bench. Channing managed to capitalize by surfing over his offensive line to crash-land in the endzone. 

The next drive came up and, dreading it, I trotted back out for another day at work. This one started off slightly better with DeeDee and Knox marching us down to the red zone. I managed to hurl a few good passes to get us down there, so feeling proud, I set up 2nd down at the West Bridge 18 yard line. "Ready!" I shouted. Norman Bradley (Darius was taking a break) was about to run a slant across the vulnerable middle where  I would dump a pass to him and score. The snap came, I dropped back, and launched the pass to a sprinting Norman. 

The good news was that the ball landed in a pair of good gloves.

The bad news was that they weren't Norman's. 

A nickelback that had went unnoticed darted in front and snatched away the pigskin, intercepting it and zipping past the line before forcing Knox and I to team up and pull him to the ground. I never ever played defense, but I thought I did pretty good. Not that it mattered. 

With seconds to go, West Bridge punted, and the ball hit the ground as the clock hit zero. Ball game. I lowered my head and scampered inside as cheers erupted from West Bridge fans. Unsettlingly, there wasn't a word spoken to me as I walked in the locker room and changed out of my gear, throwing on my normal street clothes and cruising home in my Ford F-150.

I didn't have much to do once home, because both of my parents and siblings were sound asleep. I decided to put the TV on low when suddenly, Twitter dinged. I tried to muffle my phone as much as possible so as not to get a chewing-out, and it worked to an extent. Then it dinged again, and I decided to see what all the fuss was about, sinking into a beige recliner and chilling with the Simpsons as background noise.