Page 65 of Scored

“Blackbeard,” Dad offered.

Vee reached for her wine glass and curled her legs under her as she sat at my side. Her gaze went to the television. “The Vikings are up. I thought after I heard you out here, Theo, that they’d be down.”

“They’re up by three,” he said. “It should have been seven.”

By the two-minute warning, we had another bottle of wine opened. The Seahawks were up by one, with a score of 24–23.

“This is why I like watching with the delay,” Mom said. “At this point, we can fast forward.”

Vee smiled, her head leaning on my shoulder.

“Are you tired?” I whispered.

Her gorgeous green eyes were open wide. “I’m exhausted. I’m also not moving until this game is over.”

“No matter the outcome,” Dad said, “the Vikings beat the spread. Oddsmakers had Seattle by fourteen.”

I spent the last week studying the Buffalo Bills. I hadn’t looked at the prognosticators’ predictions. “What was the spread on the Coopers?”

“Coopers by seven.”

“Well, damn,” I said. “We only won by three.”

“Hey,” Vee said, looking up at me, “we won. That’s all that matters.”

The Vikings’ kicker hit a fifty-eight-yard field goal to take the Vikings up by two. With a minute to go, one of the best teams in the NFL needed a field goal. Vee was no longer leaning against my shoulder. We were all staring intently at the television screen.

Zane was on the sidelines. The Vikings’ punter sent the ball to the four-yard line, where a group of Vikings surrounded it. We held our breath.

The ball didn’t go out of bounds.

This game was down to the Seahawks’ offense and the Vikings’ defense. Seattle had terrible field position. The referee spotted the ball at the Vikings’ five-yard line.

“Would you rather your team has the last offensive or defensive charge?” Vee asked.

“Offensive,” I answered without hesitation. Watching the defense as the final seconds tick away is maddening.

The Seahawks’ quarterback sent a long pass. Whistles blew and flags flew.

“Don’t call it,” Dad yelled.

Pass interference.

Shit. Seattle was now at their own forty-nine-yard line, and there was too much time left on the clock.

A shovel pass for a gain of three yards, and a running play for five yards had Seattle at third and two at the forty-one-yard line. My nerves were as taut as if I were watching the Coopers.

Minnesota used their last time-out.

On the sideline the cameras showed Seattle’s kicker practicing.

I wanted this win for Zane.

The two teams lined up, ball snapped, and Minnesota’s defense surged.

“They held them,” Mom yelled.

While I thought she was right, we watched as the officials measured with the chains. With six seconds on the clock, Seattle was six inches away from a first down. The Seahawks’ coach called a time-out.