Chapter 34
Fin
That defense positioned their edge rushers extremely wide on the field. That helped them in the backfield while making them vulnerable in the short game.
“Again,” Pratt yelled to Dennison. “This time, option C.”
The new plays were also designed with flexibility.
Our receivers and backs were all targets.
Every one of them had a job to do. As with all plays, these began with the formation.
Option A started with lining up in shotgun formation.
Our tight end, JD, went into motion across the formation, a fake handoff to our fullback, Treshawn Morgan, and an underhand pass to our man in motion.
Option B began with lining up in I-formation.
Our QB, Dennison, faked a toss to our running back, Dijon or Jamir, while pulling a backside guard to lead block, and then a shovel-pass to either our fullback, Treshawn, or our tight end, who initially pretended to block or pass protect, and quietly drifted out into the open, shallow area near the sidelines.
That meant a gain of short yardage and the ability to go out of bounds.
Option C, the one Pratt just called, was an offshoot of a play-action post. The offense lined up in I-formation.
Our receivers ran horizontally. After taking the snap, Dennison executed a sharp, exaggerated fake handoff to the running back, Dijon.
The running back tucked the imaginary ball to draw the defense’s linebackers and safeties.
As that was happening, our wide receivers ran deep down the field in crossing post routes within the poorly defended yards downfield.
Coach Pratt sent the call audibly. On Sunday, it would only come through Dennison’s or my helmet. Then it was up to the QB to relay it to the rest of the offense. “Brown right f-flex ghost 364 play-action.”
The ball was snapped to Dennison.
“Patel and Lewis,” Coach Pratt yelled. “You’re too slow. As soon as Spencer snaps the ball, you are running. Do it again.”
While I wasn’t involved in every play, by the time we returned to the locker room, I was worn out.
Closing my eyes under the shower’s spray, I saw the new plays.
I envisioned the field as if I were seeing it from Vee’s office.
Like her checkers in her office, the pieces of the offense moved the way the play was designed.
Vee made it to part of the morning practice.
She was balancing tonight’s fan-appreciation event with Sunday afternoon’s game.
The same as for the players, the behind-the-scenes work was a never-ending process.
Tonight, the inside of Crystal Light would be transformed into a county fair, complete with a Ferris wheel and sound stage where a well-known country-music performer would sing.
Entrance was free to season ticket holders with another thousand free tickets that were snapped up within minutes after the sale’s link went public.
I knew for a fact that Vee spent hours and hours to give every fan an experience like no other, while also securing their safety and well-being.
No doubt, she was already at Crystal Light.
I’d be on my own tonight. Last Friday’s event wasn’t as grand with the building of a Ferris wheel inside the stadium.
It also started earlier and ended by eight o’clock.
The crew then transformed the festive gathering into a football stadium for Saturday’s game.
Since this week’s game was on Sunday afternoon, tonight’s event wouldn’t kick off until seven and was scheduled to end at ten.
The workers at Crystal Light had all day tomorrow to tear down the fair-like atmosphere and return it to the home of the Coopers.
That meant that Vee wouldn’t be home until late.
Troy slapped my shoulder as I sat on the bench near my locker. “Tough practice.”
I scoffed. “This old man is exhausted.”
“Tomorrow will be less physical.”
“Just as mental. I swear to God, I’m running these damn plays in my dreams.”
Straddling the bench, he sat facing me with his shoulders slumped. “What do you think about changing up our game for the next game?”
“What do you think?”
He lowered his voice. “Part of me thinks it’s bullshit. We’ve won. Why change what works?”
I nodded. “I get that. Meeting the same team for the third time changes things.” When Troy didn’t respond, I went on.
“Before you were off the IR, Marcel Pickett was on the practice squad and one day in particular he kicked my ass. The bruising on my body wasn’t the worst of it.
While he was offering me a hand, he said he knew my tells.
I was like, what tells? I don’t fucking have tells. ”
“Did he explain?”
“I asked him. I also told him the truth. No one, not a coach or anyone in thirteen years of professional, five years of college, or before that ever said I had tells. Marcel played it off, saying he was running defense against me four days a week.”
Troy nodded. “Repetition.”
“Yeah. He was watching and the most shocking part was that he was right.” I shrugged.
“It’s kind of like that with the Texans.
It’s not every day for a month, but it is our third meeting.
During films, Coach Brown dissected Sam Anthony, Houston’s QB, for our defense.
The fucking Texans’ defensive coordinator has been doing the same thing, tearing apart your game and my game.
They can’t anticipate plays we’ve never run. ”
He sat taller, squaring his shoulders. “Thanks, man. I’ve been ruminating on this all week long.” He shook his head. “I should have talked to you sooner.”
“You’re going to kick ass on Sunday. You’ll also be running some of our regular plays. The trick is to read the defense and exploit their mistakes.”
“We made it this far last year to the championship round. It was the first time in a long time the Coopers were on the map. I fucking want to go farther this year. And then I thought I fucked up our chances when the damn injury sidelined me on game one.” His signature smile was back.
“I hated not playing, but you kept us in contention.” He stood.
“You know, sometimes you admire someone from afar and then you meet them, get to know them, and they’re assholes and you think of all the years you spent watching them and wanting to be them was wasted? ”
I nodded.
“Those years I spent watching you on Green Bay” —he shook his head— “not wasted, man. Not wasted.”
Swallowing the newly formed lump in my throat, I smiled. “And now I get to watch you take our team to the Super Bowl.”
“Fuck no.”
“We’re going to the Super Bowl.”
Troy laughed. “Not saying we’re not. I’m saying you’re going to watch the Coopers win the Super Bowl.”
“Hell yes.”
Back at home, before I warmed up leftovers from the other night’s dinner, I slipped my left arm into the sling. Without Vee here, I didn’t need two hands or two arms. And if I was honest, after today’s practice, my left shoulder was sore.
There were clips showing on a local channel about tonight’s fan event.
Vee’s beautiful face filled the screen as they showed her speaking to the people in attendance.
Watching her, I decided there was absolutely nothing that she couldn’t do.
At every turn, she made me proud. While I didn’t know him, I would bet if Reid Hubbard was watching, he too was proud.
It was only a little after eight when the door down the hall opened.
I stood and began walking that direction. Vee wasn’t supposed to be home until after ten. As soon as I saw her, my pulse tripled in speed as I hurried toward her. “What the fuck happened.”
She leaned into me.