“All right, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’re only at midfield. They won’t expect this again, so let’s try it. If it doesn’t work, Denny, I’m gonna want you to stay open.”
“You got it, Trick.”
And so it went. We marched down that field like a conquering army and scored first. On the bench, with the defense taking the field, Harte nudged me.
“You’ve got this. I can see it in your face. You’re gonna win this today.”
I laughed. “I’m sure the Lonestars said the same to Luke Fontaine. And he actually played with you guys, so he knows how you operate.”
“You think Coach don’t know that? Once the Lonestars advanced, he pulled out every old play starting from ten years ago, and the team turned around before Luke was drafted. Milo told me there are still a few tricks up Coach’s sleeve.”
“I don’t doubt it.” I searched the sidelines for a moment and found Coach, pacing and shouting instructions, more intent than I’d ever seen him. When I heard the roar, I shifted my attention to the field to see that Fontaine had been sacked for a loss of twelve yards. It was now third and twenty. “But it’s still gonna be a hell of a fight.”
My prediction came true. At halftime we were ahead by a touchdown, 17-10, and Coach was giving us our instructions.
“Quicker off the snap. Break through those holes.” His eyes burned. “Eat their balls for dinner. This isn’t fourth-grade square dancing. It’s the fucking Super Bowl. Get up in theirfaces. Tear their asses up. We’re gonna win this because we are the Kings.”
“Yes, Coach,” we yelled.
It was foolish to think the Lonestars hadn’t received the same talk from their coach, and when we faced off in the third quarter, both lines were out for blood. I stepped back to make a pass and somehow ended up facedown in the turf. Furious at being sacked, I sprang up immediately and got our line together. The guys were pissed at themselves and at how the Lonestars were congratulating themselves.
Fuck that.Rio slipped past a tackle, and I laid that ball in his arms like a mama holding her newborn baby. He motored down the field like a fucking race car and scored. A forty-three-yard touchdown pass.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” I yelled along with the crowd’s wild cheering. They got even louder after we faked the kick for the extra point and threw for the two-point conversion, scoring on the surprise play.
“Yeah, yeah!” I screamed myself hoarse and hugged each and every guy on special teams as they returned to the sideline. “You guys are fucking beasts.”
Picking up on the energy, the defense went out on a mission and sacked Fontaine twice. On third and twenty-three, we knew he’d have to pass, and it was a beautiful thing to see his throw get intercepted and run to the Lonestars’ forty-yard line.
Back on the field, we dominated, and with only five minutes left in the fourth quarter, we led 30-14. I didn’t let up on the guys, knowing it wasn’t a win until the whistle blew.
“Play it safe. I’m not passing unless I have to, but make sure you superglue the fucking ball to your hands if you get it.”
“That’s right. I’m ready to taste that champagne, baby,” Rio said, and I shot him a look.
“No celebrating yet. We lose this, and I will personally beat your asses.”
We huddled for a moment, then joined hands. “One-two-three, the Kingdom is here!”
I took the snap and handed it to a wide receiver, who plowed through the Lonestars’ line and gained a couple of yards. In no rush, we took the full forty seconds allowed before the next play. That was the plan. Get tackled on the field so the clock kept running. We repeated and gained another two yards. It didn’t matter if we didn’t get close enough for a field goal.Mygoal was not to turn the ball over. The Lonestars knew that, and on this last play, with less than three minutes left, they sent everyone toward me to try and force a fumble. I had to scramble, but my guys were ready and blocked them, giving me the opportunity to run four yards and make the first down.
Tempers flared, and some pushing broke out between Rio and a Lonestars tackle. Benches emptied, and one of their tackles, a big moose, slapped Rio’s head. Flags were thrown, and I ran into the middle of it to talk to them.
“Stay cool. We’re almost there. Don’t wanna get tossed out right before we win this. Coach’ll have your dicks for dinner.”
Milo and Rio pushed past me but nodded.
The ref stood and made the call.
“Defense. Penalty, unsportsmanlike conduct. Fifteen-yard penalty. First down.”
The crowd booed, but I didn’t care. We had this game, and I wasn’t going to let some dumbass fight lose it for us.
“All we need is one more play. Troy, I’m gonna fake hand it to you. Run to the left, and I’m gonna go to the right.”
“You got it, Trick.”
“Let’s do this.”
