10. Chapter 9
Chapter 9
SHYLOH
The roar was so loud that it canceled out any other noise that tried to gain my attention. Playing here, in our home stadium, was not just playing a game. It was an experience . Some would say a spiritual one.
I may have been biased, but we have the best fans in the entire league: the loudest, kindest, and most loyal fans to date. The moment my foot touches the field, the stadium is silenced with only the sound of the announcer reaching my ears. They were so good that they were only loud when our defense was on the field, which is the perfect way to distract your competitors .
The two-minute warning was over in the final quarter of the game. We were down by one point; all we needed was to get into field goal range, and it would be game over. We’d take the win.
“We’re gonna run the I-Right 26 with full intent to get to Jordy. If he isn’t open, get open… like always.”
We broke the huddle and moved into our positions. I checked the line, making sure that we were clear to run the play. We only needed five more yards to get into the range we needed. We could do it. I believed in my guys.
My eyes trailed over their names, their numbers, ensuring everything was perfect, all within twenty-five seconds.
The ball was snapped.
I locked eyes with Jordy Hughes and let it fly.
My eyes only tracked the ball for a brief moment before everything went black.
“Mi Corazon, get over here right now,” my mother yelled at me. I was standing in the street with the other neighborhood kids tossing the football around.
“But Ma! It’s not dark yet,” I yelled back. That only infuriated her more.
“Shyloh Rey Mendoza, you get your ass over here right now before I grab you by the ear!”
Oh.
“Sorry guys, I gotta go but… see you tomorrow?”
The guys smile and nod. “Yeah! See you, Shy.”
I walked over to my mother, who had both hands on her hips with a permanent scowl etched on her face. “What did I say to you about talking back?”
“I know,” I groan. “I know, Ma—I just wanted to play a little more.”
Her face softened as she looked down at me. I was only twelve. We had moved around the country at least five times since I was born. My dad was an admiral in the Navy, and we were constantly moving for him. I was the only child, and it was just me and my ma most of the time.
“You know your dad will be home soon; we need to get you cleaned up.”
My dad was returning from his deployment today, and I didn’t know if I was happy or sad. Mostly, I think I was anxious. He was a great dad; I only wished he were around more.
My parents were childhood sweethearts who both decided to chase after the American dream. Ma must be America’s number one fan because no matter how much my dad or others complain about it, she stood right there, defending its honor any chance she got. I guess that’s why I felt the way I did too, following in her footsteps.
My dream was to become an NFL quarterback. Be able to take care of my family, maybe even own a yacht. That’d be cool.
“Shy!” I heard my ma yell at me again while she stood by the front door.
“Yeah! I’ll be there in a second!” I replied. Something felt off. Something was wrong.
“Shy!” I heard my ma again, but her voice sounded different.
That’s when the pain surged through me.
Reality hit me like a ton of bricks. I was lying flat on my back, staring up at the lights in the ceiling of the stadium. I was unable to move.
Why couldn’t I move?
I felt the warmth of tears streaming down the side of my face as I looked into our athletic trainer’s eyes. I was silently pleading with him, but what was I pleading for?
“Shy, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay,” he kept repeating it over and over.
“Can you move your foot for me?” he asked. I tried but, he just stared at me. This was bad .
The entire stadium was silent. It was so quiet I could have made out the trainer’s heartbeat if I focused enough.
“We’re gonna put this brace around your neck and put you on the stretcher. There’s an ambulance at the entrance that is making its way to us. We’ll load you in and take you to the hospital. Is there someone we can call to meet you there?” the coach asked me gently.
I closed my eyes. My family wasn’t here at the stadium and the only other family I had was standing around me. My teammates.
“Um—Becca Dawson and Lenna Hughes. Please,” I asked him through broken sobs. I didn’t know what happened.
“Did he catch it?” I asked.
The trainer helped the paramedic strap me into the neck brace before he looked down at me with a slight twinkle in his eyes. “Yes. He scored. ”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Our defense could hold them, and we would be in the playoffs. We’d make it to the championship, and everything would be perfect.
The stretcher sounded below me as they cranked me to the entrance of the ambulance. I wanted to reach my hand up to give the stadium a thumbs up, but I couldn’t move. I tried again and nothing.
Shit .
The trainer helped push me into the ambulance. “I let them know you requested Becca and Lenna. They will meet you there,” he said.
“Thank you… I’m sorry, what's your name again?” I asked him, wanting to remember this man who wasn’t just doing his job, but saving me.
“I’m Denny. I’ll be checking in on you Mr. Mendoza,” he replied.
I blinked, looking around at the paramedics who were busy preparing me for the ride to the hospital. I couldn’t feel my fingers. I couldn’t feel my toes. The only thing I could feel was the pain in my heart, the ache of waiting to know what had happened to me.