Chapter 39
Fin
Holt sent the ball downfield and into the end zone, a touchback.
The Texans would have the ball on their own thirty-five-yard line.
Sam Anthony, the Texan’s QB, came out strong but so was our defense.
The Coopers shut down their long game. On third and six, their fullback broke through the defensive line, converting to their first first-down.
Each time the Texans’ offense went to the line, the Coopers’ fans were riotously loud. With the roof closed on Crystal Light Stadium, the roar was deafening. On Houston’s second run, third down, they were called for a false start. After the five-yard penalty, they were third and thirteen.
Anthony went with a no-huddle offense and sent the ball downfield. Tyler Wood tipped the ball. The crowd sighed as the ball landed on the ground. It was so close to an interception. Now Houston was at fourth and thirteen, still on their side of the field.
Time to punt.
“You’ve got this,” I said to Dennison as he and our offense ran onto the field.
A quick glance down the sideline and I found the heart of the Coopers. Vee had her headset on, and her clipboard clenched against her breasts. The sexy cowboy boots were visible beneath the hem of her straight long amber skirt.
Standing near Coach Pratt, I listened to his call. After all the work on the new plays, he called a tried-and-true one. The snap was good. Dennison faked a pass toward Lewis, our wide receiver, and handed off to Dijon, our running back. Dijon was stopped after a two-yard gain.
Pratt’s next call was one of the new ones. If it worked Dennison would have the options of Lewis far right, JD downfield center, or Patel far left. The offense lined up. The crowd, which had been so loud, was quiet.
The snap.
The fake.
Treshawn Morgan ran toward the sideline. The defense took the bait.
Dennison stepped back. His foot was set. JD was open in the center of the field. Dennison’s throw was like a bullet. JD caught the ball with no one around him and took off toward the end zone.
“Touchdown,” came from the PA system, “your Lexxx-ington Coopers.”
Fireworks exploded.
A quick glance and I smiled as Vee bounced on her toes.
Whistles and yellow flags came out.
I looked up at the replay.
“Decline,” Coach Tilson said.
The official appeared on the screen. “Prior to the snap, Texans’ defensive tackle No. 92 was offside. The Coopers declined the penalty. The play on the field stands. Coopers’ touchdown.”
Crystal Light Stadium was as loud as I ever heard it.
The offense lined up for the extra point. Pat Starks, our punter, kicked the football. It sailed between the uprights. The score was 7–0, Coopers.
By halftime the Coopers were up by eleven points: 14–3.
“No celebrating yet,” Tilson yelled in the locker room.
“This is another must-win game. The game’s not over until the buzzer sounds.
I want everyone’s head in the game. You’ve worked hard this past week learning, eating, and shitting the Texans.
It’s not over. Thirty more minutes. Don’t think about what’s next.
Concentrate on the team in front of you.
Our faithful fans deserve this in our stadium. Do you agree?”
“Yes, Coach.”
“Do you agree?”
“Yes, Coach.” Louder than before.
Since the Coopers deferred in the first half, we would be the team to receive the ball at the beginning of the second half.
Our kick return team went out onto the field.
The Houston placekicker sent the ball high.
Our player caught it near the fifteen-yard line and ran it to the twenty-two-yard line before being brought down.
Dennison would have the ball with seventy-eight yards to travel.
Houston made an adjustment to their defense for the second half, playing much tighter man-to-man than before.
They shut down the long game. Our offense moved forward at a painfully slow pace, two yards here, five yards there.
With the ball on the Texans’ six-yard line, we’d had the ball for over eight minutes. It was second and goal.
The snap.
Dennison stepped back.
A battle of wills raged with Houston’s coverage.
He tucked the ball and ran through a gap. Dennison didn’t stop until he was in the end zone and brought down by a Houston cornerback. The referees lifted their arms.
Touchdown.
Fireworks shot from the corners of the stadium.
After the extra point, the score was now 21–3.
Houston responded with a quick touchdown. It was a Hail Mary pass. Their play only took two minutes off the clock. Our offense was back out with five minutes to play in the third quarter.
The next two drives were scoreless.
Dennison led the charge at the beginning of the fourth quarter, with more short plays. The Coopers’ offense was exhausted, as was the Texans’ defense. We were stopped during a third down at Houston’s forty-two-yard line.
Coach Tilson sent Holt out onto the field.
The field goal attempt would be fifty-nine yards.
Holt had hit from that far before.
Statistically, the chance of hitting the field goal was around fifty-five to sixty percent.
The snap and placement.
The ball sailed through the air, hitting the inside of the right upright and bounced through the goal posts. It wasn’t pretty, but that didn’t matter. The kick was good. Along the sideline, the team jumped up and down. The Coopers were now ahead 23–10.
Our defense held the Texans to two first downs.
Pratt turned to me. “You’re going in, Graham.”
“Yes, Coach.”
In the huddle, I heard the play in my ears. “We have four minutes left,” I shouted. “Run the clock.”
The players nodded.
We lined up.
I called the play and set the cadence, “Regular Ace, Z-motion, Ride 36 Power. Set. Hut!”
Spencer snapped the ball. I handed it off to Dijon Ortiz for a gain of three yards. Six plays later, our offense was on Houston’s thirty-one-yard line. We were at second and three when the two-minute warning sounded.
Time-out.
On the sideline, I greedily gulped the water as it was squirted in my mouth.
Coach Pratt slapped my shoulder pads. “Great job, Graham. Dennison is back in.”
I nodded and removed my helmet.
When the final buzzer rang, Lexington won 30–17. Dennison took my run from the thirty-one-yard line for another touchdown.
Fireworks exploded.
The Big Hurt announced, “The Lexington Coopers are the AFC Champions.”
The crowd screamed.
Despite the game being over, the fans remained in their seats. It was time for the presentation of the Lamar Hunt Trophy.