Our defense nearly intercepted a long pass. I held my breath waiting for a pass interference call. While the receiver clearly wanted one, the officials didn’t comply. The Raiders were third and six. My nails carved half-moons into my palms as I clenched my fists.
The ball was snapped.
Johnson, one of our cornerbacks, ran around the line of scrimmage for a sack.
Raiders’ time of possession was only two minutes. They had no choice but to punt.
My smile couldn’t be restrained when I saw Fin putting on his helmet. He was back in the game. By halftime we were up 10–3. I wasn’t ready to celebrate quite yet.
The Raiders came out of halftime with a boulder on their shoulders. They had first possession, which resulted in another field goal. The score was now 10–6. Fin continued as quarterback. Hearing the play call in my headset, I realized I was watching not just Fin, but anticipating who he would give the ball to, and if it would be a handoff or a pass play.
In the fourth quarter, we had the ball in the red zone, with a first and goal from the four-yard line. The Raiders’ defense was solid. They stopped us on the first, second, and third downs. Drew called for the kicking team to go out onto the field.
Fin shouted at the offense. I couldn’t hear, but from what I could see, he was telling them to stay. I could only hear Drew’s voice. I squinted my eyes at the tirade he was screaming at Fin.
Fin huddled the offense.
Drew withdrew the kicking team.
Our offense lined up. The Raiders’ defense was tight.
Fin handed the ball to Bennett. The defense swarmed.
The official’s arms went up, indicating a touchdown, but I didn’t understand how. Bennett had been stopped.
“Oh my God.” It was a quarterback scramble.
Fin hadn’t handed the ball off.
Bennett’s fake deserved an Oscar nomination. I looked up at the jumbotron to see Fin tucking the ball and running wide around the line of scrimmage. The Coopers’ players on the sideline and field were celebrating.
The extra point attempt was blocked. The Coopers were up 16–6 with less than five minutes remaining. The Raiders had possession of the ball. Their quarterback’s passes were on point. In less than two minutes, with multiple first downs they were to our four-yard line.
Coach Brown sent in Wood, our 6 feet, 1 inch and 210-pound nickelback. In my ear, Brown was screaming at Lester, the Coopers’ linebacker. I checked my play sheet, not as familiar with defense as offense. Our defensive coordinator was calling for a 5-man rush.
The ball was snapped.
Our defense lunged forward. Wood found the gap and tackled Williams. The Raiders’ quarterback was sacked again. They were now second and goal on the eleven-yard line. The Raiders’ offense lined up again with no-huddle offense. Williams handed off the ball. Their fullback ran nearly to the goal line. It was more progress than Brown wanted.
The call was third and inches.
There was time for one more play before the two-minute warning.
The Raiders’ scored.
At the two-minute warning, we were still ahead, but only by three points. A touchdown would beat us. A field goal would tie.
Fin and the offense were back on the field. I didn’t take a full breath until the final buzzer. While each team had a possession during the final two minutes, neither team scored. The final score was 16–13; Coopers won. Not only was it a win, but the Coopers scored sixteen points against a team that on average only gave up 4.4 points a game.
“Great game,” I said to the players as they headed into the locker room.
“Thanks, Ms. Maeve.”
When I turned toward the field, I watched Fin with his helmet in hand, speaking with a reporter. A smile tugged at my lips. His hair was a mess, and he had a few scratches and bruises from the battle, but in my opinion, he was still the most handsome man on the field and beyond.
“Ms. Hubbard.”
I turned to find a camera in my face. I lifted my hand and tucked my face down. “Speak to the players. They won the game.”
