Chapter 10
Elle
The air is crisp, a symphony of sounds, music, cheers, and general ruckus surrounds Sadie and I as we finish our mocktails. We’re pre-gaming in the parking lot of the Wolves home stadium affectionately called The Den. I’m in Archer’s jersey and Sadie is in her beloved Phantoms jersey.
We decided to drink mocktails today since it’s Sunday and we have school the next day. No one wants to teach elementary school hungover. I watch only what can be called a chaotic game of corn hole being played by some tailgaters next to us.
I’ve never been more anxious for a game, and the combination of smells has me wanting to gag. It smells like weed and barbecue. I sip more of my mocktail hoping the carbonation settles my stomach.
I didn’t tell Archer that we would be in the stands today.
I planned on letting him know after the game.
Just in case the game went south, not that I don’t believe in Archer, I have full faith in him, I just didn’t want to risk jinxing it.
I’m a big believer in jinxes, especially when it comes to football.
Just like my dad. I still wear my charm bracelet every time I go to a home football game.
Sadie tosses her mocktail and looks at me. “Ready to go in, the game starts in about twenty minutes.”
“Absolutely.” I finish the last of my mock mojito and walk arm and arm with Sadie to our seats.
My stomach manages to settle as soon as we get to the seats.
I don’t know if it’s being away from the smells or the mint from the mojito finally working its magic but I’m able to relax enough that I decide to risk the jinx.
I send Archer a picture of me in his jersey in my seat at The Den.
I don’t have more than a few minutes before the announcer’s voice comes through the loudspeakers.
The Wolves former player Samuel Garcia’s voice booms through the loudspeaker building the hype, announcing the players, but I can’t really hear his words over the roar of the crowd.
The Wolves burst through the tunnel to Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes, a sea of orange and gray helmets shining under the October sun. I jump to my feet and cheer with the crowd. Letting the energy of the stadium revitalize me.
The flag bearers step forward, holding the massive American flag as the anthem starts to play, and I quickly move my hand to my heart.
The crowd stands, hats off, heads bowed in respect.
I hear the singer’s voice echoing through the stadium.
Her voice is clear and concise and as soon as she finishes that final note, I hear the rumble of jets quickly approaching.
Fighter jets scream past overhead in perfect formation, their engines reverberating in my chest.
Ah, America. Before I can spare any more thoughts to the screaming fighter jets — the whistle blows, and the game begins.
Then-Freshman Year
Elle
“Fuck! No!” The guy next to me groans. Miles Gray, our first-string quarterback, is carted off the field with an apparent concussion.
It’s the fourth quarter with 2 minutes left in the game.
The air is thick with disappointment at the risk of losing our chance at the playoffs this year.
The uneasiness does not dissipate as I hear the coach frantically adjusting the plays and formation.
I nervously twist my good luck charm bracelet.
The bracelet my dad bought me for Christmas years ago.
Over the years we have filled it with charms together, my newest addition is my university’s logo.
I’ve worn it to every home game I’ve attended and we’ve won. I hope it doesn’t fail me now.
After what seems like an eternity I see our second-string quarterback jog onto the field.
I squint through my sunglasses, and I see the name Bell emblazoned across the back.
Archer. My Archer, my first friend I’ve made at uni, is going out of the field for the first time in his collegiate career.
The crowd is nervous and I don’t want him to feel like they’re expecting him to fail.
I make a decision, risking looking like a fool, hoping my runner’s lungs are good for something; I scream at the top of my lungs.
“Let’s go Bell!” My cheer does exactly what I wanted it to do.
The atmosphere shifts, no longer anxious and apprehensive, it shifts to hopeful, hopeful that Archer can keep the playoff dreams alive.
The whistle blows, and the team is back on the line.
From what I can tell Archer is doing his best to survey the defense.
The ball is snapped and Archer moves. He spots one of our receivers breaking free down the sideline.
He doesn’t hesitate. He cocks his arm back, and with a flick of his wrist, the ball is gone; flying through the air.
The ball sails through the air, and then the receiver catches the ball at the 15-yard line. He spins, avoiding a tackle and sprints toward the end zone. The noise of the crowd is near deafening as our receiver dives into the endzone.
Touchdown.
The stadium erupts, everyone is on their feet. The sea of blue and gold standing and celebrating that we have made it to the playoffs for the first time in fifteen years.
Now-Elle
I don’t think I’ve ever been wound so tight.
Archer is playing better than he has all seasons, but we’re still down by three, and I want him to win.
They’re coming off two losses, the morale boost would be season changing.
He’s told me all the progress he’s made on and off the field.
Logging extra hours in the weight and training rooms, his additional sessions with Dr. Mondary.
It needs to show how far he’s come. Not just for himself but for his team and this city.
Sadie, even though she’s in her beloved Phantoms’ colors, has been rooting for the Wolves as well. She grabs my arm and my attention snaps back to the field.
I see the pocket start to collapse, and my stomach twists.
Archer looks downfield—no open receivers. The rush is coming from every direction, and I hold my breath as he ducks a defender’s grasp. Archer tucks the ball under his arm and takes off.
He’s weaving down the sideline. He ducks out of the grasp of a Phantoms’ defender. I’m screaming for him to keep going. He dodges a Phantoms’ safety. My heart races as Archer sprints toward the end zone, the gap between him and the defenders growing.
He has a chance. The end zone is so close now.
He doesn’t falter; he fights through the exhaustion he must be feeling at the end of the fourth quarter.
Oh my God. He’s going to make it. I don’t hear the screaming of the crowd as Archer races to the end zone.
Blood pounds in my ears as he crosses that line.
Touchdown!
The stadium explodes. Sadie and I are clutching each other jumping up and down. Screaming and hugging. The kicker goes in for the additional point. The ball flies through the goalposts.
Wolves win!
Something warm and wet rolls down my cheeks. I’m crying. Happy tears. I’m crying happy tears. Archer has tangible evidence and proof all his hard work is paying off. And I am so damn proud of him.