Chapter 23
Randy
My knees bounce repeatedly, my cleats digging into the grass. My helmet rests in my lap, my hand gripping it so tight my knuckles have turned bone white. The lights above are bright, the crowd almost deafening as their team's quarterback lines up five yards behind center.
Snap.
He drops back and lets it fly. His pass is high, long, and on track as it spirals through the air. The catch is clean as their slot receiver runs it in for a touchdown. My head drops as they take the lead.
Coach is yelling something from the sideline as a hand drops to my shoulder. “Let’s go, QB. Time to answer back,” Robert, the offensive coordinator, says.
I nod, more determined than ever as their team kicker gets the point after touchdown.
I throw my helmet on and look back to where Christian watches.
He stands, rocking slightly back and forth, giving me a rapid, determined head nod.
He knows my football better than anyone.
He knows what I need to do to get this job done.
Our teammates are good, but damn if I don’t want him on the field with me right now.
My mom sits a few seats down, her fingers entwined, thumbs resting on her chin like in prayer.
The whole stadium is nervous as the clock ticks down late in the fourth quarter.
I turn my head away from the crowd and jog to the center, lined up with my fellow teammates. Their safeties are creeping up. Linebackers shifting.
I call the cadence.
Ball snaps.
And everything goes quiet.
I search for my options, but their yellow jerseys are everywhere.
Their defensive end gains ground, and my options are growing slimmer by the second.
With just moments to spare before I’m tackled, the ball spirals from my grip.
It’s not my best throw, but it’ll do as my body is slammed to the ground.
My eyes trail the ball downfield along with everyone else in the stadium. Just as Devon jumps to catch the pass, it’s whacked away by the opposition. My head drops briefly, then I stand and shout at my team. “Bring it in!”
We huddle together, going over our next play—but things aren’t meshing. We’re not in sync, and it’s frustrating the fuck out of me. “Boys, we need this. I need you all to work hard these next few minutes. Our whole season is going to come down to this. Right here, right now. This moment!”
I turn back to the line, my team lining up head-to-head with theirs. Heart pounding. The crowd’s a blur. The stadium lights beaming down and adding to the intensity of this moment.
My eyes scan the field as I call the cadence once again.
Ball snaps.
Devon cuts in for the reverse. The defense bites hard. Our slot receiver sells the screen. Their safeties shift, and that’s when I see it. The window. The one we weren’t supposed to get.
I plant, twist, and let it fly. The ball spirals through the air, slicing through the noise, the pressure, the doubt. It’s not textbook—but it’s fast, and it’s deep.
Jaxson, our wideout, breaks free, hands outstretched, but he's hit hard from the side. The final pass hits the turf. Incomplete.
The buzzer sounds, and the stadium erupts—but not for us. Their sideline floods the field, helmets flying, players screaming, fans losing their minds.
I can only just stand there, watching their team celebrate in victory. Helmet in hand. Cleats rooted in the turf. The lights feel colder now. My chest tight, like the air’s been sucked out of me.
Jaxson crouches, hands on his knees, head down. It’s as far as he could push his way up after the tackle.
I look to the bench—every players’ head is down, lost like me, frustrated by the outcome and the fact that we were so close.
I glance to Christian, I know he is devastated, but the look he gives me is nothing but admiration. He knows I played my heart out. He knows I left everything on the field, like I always do.
Coach is yelling something about a good game and how there’s always next season, but it’s just background static.
I walk off slowly, shoulder pads heavy, sweat cooling on my skin. The locker room is quiet when we get there. No one speaks. Just the sound of cleats on concrete and gear hitting the floor. I sit on the bench, elbows on knees, staring at the ground.
We lost. We won’t be in the championship game.
But in the back of my mind I have this weird feeling that I’ve lost something more and can’t quite place what that is.