Chapter 50
Fin
Standing near Coach Pratt, I listened to his play calls. The first one was one of the newer plays. They were only used in the championship game and therefore were more difficult for the Eagles’ coaches to have studied.
Our offense lined up in shotgun formation with an empty backfield. This forced the Eagles’ defense to adjust their setup and compelled their linebackers to defend against our fast receivers. Dennison received the snap. He stepped back and passed to Ramel Patel who ran for a gain of seven yards.
In the next series of long and short plays, Dennison moved the chains three times. The Coopers were now on the Eagles’ twenty-yard line with second and three. The Eagles completely covered the receivers. Dennison tucked the ball and ran ahead, sliding for a first down.
The Coopers’ fans cheered.
I didn’t believe that everyone in SoFi Stadium wearing amber began this season as a Coopers’ fan.
The media made us out to be a Cinderella story.
A small-market team that made it to the big game.
A team that succeeded through injury and tragedy.
The Coopers were the little engine that could, and Vee was the face appearing on all the sports programs.
The first drive of the game ended with seven points on the scoreboard for the Coopers. By the end of the first quarter, we were tied seven all. When the minutes ticked down to halftime, our scores had doubled. Dennison had the ball on Philadelphia’s thirty-two-yard line for second and eight.
Whistles blew.
“Illegal motion, offense, No. 67, Jordon. Five-yard penalty. Still second down.”
That put us on the thirty-seven-yard line.
Pratt called an RPO.
Spencer snapped the ball to Dennison.
JD’s footwork got him open. The ball sailed through the air. JD caught it on the twenty-eight-yard line and ran toward the end zone. A defender brought him down on the two-yard line. With only seconds left to play, Coach Tilson called a time-out.
“Put your helmet on, Graham. You’re going in.”
I did as I was told.
Pratt spoke to Troy and me. “We don’t have time for more than one play. I could put the kicking team in, but instead, Graham is going in for a quarterback draw.”
Troy patted my shoulder pad. “You’ve got this.”
“I do, Coach.”
I ran onto the field and into the huddle.
We lined up to look like I was going to pass.
After the snap, I faked a handoff to Treshawn Morgan and dropped back.
The defensive linemen rushed forward, giving me a path straight up the middle.
With the ball tucked, my legs were running before I had truly considered any other options. I was brought down with a vicious hit.
I assessed my location.
End zone.
Fireworks exploded.
“You scored” came through my helmet.
JD offered me a hand. As I got to my feet, he patted my shoulder pad. “You fucking scored in the Super Bowl in SoFi.” His smile was ear to ear.
I did.
With the extra point, we went into the locker room ahead 21–14.
While out on the field, a spectacular halftime show was being performed; in the locker room, it was talk of shutting down the Eagles’ offense and outsmarting their defense. They had already been called for one late hit. There was a questionable roughing the passer that wasn’t called.
“It’s going to get more physical out there,” Coach Tilson said.
“If this stays a close game, tempers will flare. Do not be sucked into their mindset. The Coopers are a fucking great team. We can win fairly. If someone comes at you, let the refereeing team take care of it. They’re the NFL’s best out there. ”
Coach Garcia, our QB coach, showed Troy, Josh, and I aerial photographs of Dennison’s plays. He pointed out where receivers were open, yet Troy sent the ball in another direction. We were winning. He wanted whichever one of us would be playing to check all of our progressions.
The third quarter began with the Eagles receiving. We held them to four and out. They punted. Late in the third quarter, a Philadelphia defensive end lunged at Dennison. The ball was clearly out of his hand.
Whistles blew.
Flags flew.
The pass had been incomplete.
After a conference with the other referees, the official came on the jumbotron. “Eagles, No. 97, Montague, illegal hit of the Coopers’ quarterback Dennison. Fifteen-yard penalty, automatic first down.”
The score was still 21–14 at the beginning of the fourth quarter.
Our defense misread the Philly offense, allowing them to score. Philadelphia went for two points and we stopped them. The score was now 21–20.
Dennison had a long drive, making it into the Eagles’ red zone and eating over six minutes on the clock. On second and goal, he handed the ball off to Jamir Bennett who ran eight yards into the end zone. The extra point was good.
Coopers 28–20.
With five minutes left in the game, the Eagles scored. Again, they tried for the two-point conversion. This time, they made it.
We were tied at twenty-eight.
Dennison stepped back for a long pass. The ball was in the air. The Eagles’ defender was draped all over our wide receiver, Kylon Lewis. The pass was incomplete.
Whistles.
Flags.
“Pass interference,” the official said. “No. 22, Philadelphia. The ball will be put on the Eagles’ twelve-yard line, automatic first down Lexington.”
Tensions were high. The Eagles’ defense was tight.
Dennison handed the ball to Dijon Ortiz who barreled ahead for five yards. We were now at the two-minute warning, with second and five, at the Eagles’ seven-yard line. Our offense came to the sideline for water. Coach Pratt huddled with the offense.
Back on the field, the Coopers made four yards’ progress with a pass to Patel. He caught the ball and was stopped immediately at the three-yard line. Third and one at the Eagles’ three-yard line. Dennison utilized a no-huddle offense.
We lined up.
Whistles.
Flags.
“Encroachment,” the official said into the camera. “No. 75, defense. Half the distance to the goal. The penalty results in a Lexington first down.”
First down and goal at the one-and-a-half-yard line.
Dennison lined up under center. Spencer snapped the ball. Bennett and Morgan lined up behind Dennison and pushed him forward. The referees’ arms went into the air and fireworks exploded.
Touchdown Coopers.
After the extra point, the score was now 35–28, Coopers, with a minute and thirty seconds left on the clock.
Philadelphia’s quarterback moved the Eagles down the field with too much efficiency. On second and ten, at our forty-yard line, their wide receiver moved forward.
The crowd gasped and screamed.
The ball was out and on the ground.
Malik Johnson scooped it up and ran in the other direction.
“Go, go,” I chanted. I peered over to Vee. The heels of her cowboy boots were bouncing.
Malik made it to the fifty, the forty, the thirty, the twenty, the ten. He peered over his shoulder, but the closest player was five yards back. Malik crossed into the end zone and dramatically spiked the ball. Our sideline went wild.
“Touchdown, Coopers.”
Fireworks exploded.
We lined up for the extra point when the PA announcer said, “The play on the field was a fumble and fumble recovery for a touchdown. This play is under automatic review.”
There was no question that Malik scored. The booth was reviewing whether the play before that was a fumble.
We stared at the jumbotron.
The Eagles’ wide receiver clearly had possession of the ball. It was our defensive tackle Warner who knocked the ball loose. Players scrambled, but it was Malik who scooped it up.
After a painstakingly long review, the official announced the decision. “The call on the field stands. Lexington Coopers’ touchdown.”
The extra point was good.
42–28, Coopers.
Philadelphia would receive the ball with eighteen seconds left on the clock.
Our defense was fired up.
The Eagles had one Hail Mary opportunity.
The ball was snapped.
Eric Rhodes, our defensive end, broke free, sacking the QB.
The buzzer sounded and amber and white confetti fell from the rafters.
Everyone was celebrating. Troy and I hugged. I looked around. Finding my objective, I ran to Vee. Hugging her waist, I lifted her from the ground.
Dropping her clipboard, she reached for my shoulder pads. “We won. We won the Super Bowl.” Tears fell from her emerald eyes.
I leaned forward and kissed her and lifted her in my arms. On national fucking television.
My Vee didn’t back away. She kissed me back.
“I love you, Vee Hubbard.”
“I love you.”
People were screaming and running onto the field. Behind us, Coach Tilson was drenched in orange Gatorade.
“I know you have a trophy to accept,” I said as I set Vee back on her feet. I reached for her hand and dropped to one knee. “I love you. When you’re done on that stage, would you consider marrying me?”
Vee’s eyes opened wide as her family ran onto the field.
“Oh my God,” Leigh said, bringing her fingers to her lips.
Vee leaned down and kissed me. “I will definitely consider it.” Her eyes sparkled. “Let’s go get the trophy.”