Chapter 37
Fin
“This is prime-time television,” Coach Tilson said before the game. “This is where the Coopers belong. Our season isn’t ending tonight. Let’s make Lexington proud. We’re going to be on prime time from now until the Super Bowl. Do you agree?”
“We agree,” the team chanted.
“Do you agree?”
“We agree.” Our reply echoed in the locker room.
“Who is going to win?” he asked.
“The Coopers,” we yelled.
“Who?”
“The Coopers.”
“You’re the Coopers,” Tilson screamed. “You’ve got this.”
“We’ve got this, Coach.”
The entry onto the field was less dramatic for the visiting team. There was no tunnel fog or flashing lights. Yet high above in NRG Stadium were pockets of amber who cheered as we were announced. The fireworks were reserved for the home team.
The stadium erupted in explosives and cheers as the Texans came onto the field.
The usual progression occurred.
The Texans won the coin flip and chose to defer.
I slapped Troy’s shoulder pads. “You’ve got this.”
His dark stare showed the intensity in his mindset.
“Front row to greatness,” I said.
Troy nodded before he and the offense ran onto the field. I didn’t have headphones like Vee and Coach Pratt. Instead, I stood near the offensive coordinator to hear his play calling. His first call was for play action.
Spencer snapped the ball. Troy faked a pass to Jamir and stepped back. The Texans’ defense was zone as Kylon Lewis and JD Downing ran their routes. Troy stepped back and threw a beautiful spiral. JD caught the ball and was stopped. It was a gain of four yards.
“Their defense is tight,” I said to myself as I turned to catch a glimpse of Vee on the sideline. She was wearing a different amber outfit. This time her skirt wasn’t flowing but long and straight. Those sexy boots were visible.
I turned back to the field.
Troy was going with a no-huddle offense.
Our center, Spencer, snapped the ball.
Whistles blew.
“Defensive offside,” the official called. “Five-yard penalty. Replay second down.”
We needed one yard for a first down.
I clenched my jaw as Troy faked a pass to our running back and ran forward. Treshawn pushed from behind.
“Lexington first down.”
The Texans’ defense shut down our long plays, and our offense used up precious time on the clock. It was a grueling game of short plays. Exhaustion showed on both sides of the ball.
With three minutes left in the fourth quarter, we were up 14—13. Our defense had Houston at third and fourteen after a delay of game call on the Texans.
I held my breath as the Texans’ quarterback sent a Hail Mary pass downfield.
Their tight end caught the ball and dropped it.
Pickett scooped the ball from the ground and ran it down the field into the Texans’ end zone.
Whistles blew.
The call on the field was Houston fumble and Lexington touchdown. Twenty to thirteen showed on the scoreboard.
The Texans’ coach threw his challenge flag.
Our team paced the sidelines as the officials reviewed the play. In general, it was difficult to overturn the call on the field. My eyes went up to the jumbotron. At question was if the Texans’ tight end secured the ball and made a football move. They showed the play over and over in slow motion.
Finally, the head official stepped forward and activated his microphone. “After careful review, the Houston tight end did not have possession of the ball. The call is a fumble. Houston ball at the Houston forty-two-yard line. Fourth and fourteen. The Texans will not be charged a time-out.”
The score was back to 14–13.
The Texans had to punt.
While it would have been great to have the cushion, if we received the touchdown, the ball would be back with the Texans’ offense. Now our offense had the ball. We just needed to use clock.
As the Houston kicker went out onto the field, Coach Pratt turned to me. “Graham, you’re in. Dennison is exhausted and you can do this. Use the clock. I don’t give a fuck if we score. Run out the clock. We need at least two first downs.”
Securing my helmet, I ran onto the field and into our huddle. “Short plays. We can do it. First downs.” Everyone nodded. I called the play coming in my helmet. “Gun right – quick slant.”
We lined up in split-back formation. I set the cadence. “Set, hut.”
Spencer snapped the ball. I handed it off to Jamir Bennett who ran for five yards.
The next few plays moved us down the field.
After our first down, Houston used their last time-out.
“Go long,” Pratt said in my helmet. “They’re not expecting it. Their defense is too tight.”
In the huddle, I called the play. “Gun king trips right tear 52 sway all go special X-shallow cross H-wide.”
We lined up in I formation. Their defense adjusted.
“Set, hut.”
Spencer snapped the ball. I took four steps back, reading my progressions. JD was open downfield. I pushed away the thought of the interception earlier this year. As I moved my arm forward, the unexpected force of a truck hit me, propelling me to the field’s surface.
A white flash singed the inside of my eyelids and my ears filled with static.