Page 96
Cal is so impressive every day, but the center is one of the most crucial positions in football. My brother is great and all, but Calvin does twice the amount of work and rarely gets noticed, unless he screws up or there’s a weaker replacement.
Not only do you have to communicate to the line and snap the ball to the QB, but you also then need to quickly move to the block position and protect the line. It’s a very difficult position, and Cal has been accurate and amazing with his snaps and protection all game.
I take a sip of soda and laugh into my cup.
Who am I, and when did I learn so much about football?
Listen. I love my brother, and yes, I did cheer for him when he was younger and watched his games, but I didn’t always pay attention, and I often didn’t know what was going on. That was his thing with our dad. Not mine.
When we got a little older and were no longer forced to watch his games, I rarely did. And when I did, well, I was a little confused. However, somewhere in the last few years, I’ve become a self-proclaimed football expert.
I’m not sure when or why that happened, but I know much more than I even realized. Cal is also a great teacher. I love listening to him talk about anything really, but especially when it’s something he’s passionate about.
I blush at the thought, because one of those things may, in fact, be me.
My eyes drift to him on the field. His head is down low as he snaps the ball with precision to Quinn Banks.
Quinn pumps twice, but then ends up throwing down the side, out of bounds.
The next play, a blitz comes, catching the QB off guard, but he throws a shovel pass to a running back, and they break away.
He’s on the twenty-yard line. Fifteen. Now ten, breaking a tackle. He runs past the five, and he’s almost in, but he slips in the snow, losing his grip, and falls just short at the one-yard line with a defender on top.
One yard to go with a minute left and a full set of downs.
Quinn hands the ball off to a running back, but he loses a yard pushing the guys back to the two-yard line.
The guys line up. Calvin bends down, and my eyes focus on him. Damn. Even from the stands, his form is impressive. Everything about him is impressive, actually.
Calvin snaps the ball to Quinn, and he throws it to the corner of the end zone to Myles Jones, but he’s double covered, and the play is broken up.
It’s now third and goal with a few seconds left on the clock. The players huddle up to discuss the play, then break to line up. Calvin once again snaps the football to Quinn, and he glances to his right but doesn’t like what he sees. He looks, then throws left to an open player in the end zone. The player catches, then cradles the ball with two large hands, curling his body around the ball like it’s a feeble newborn baby.
The ref throws his hands straight up in the air to indicate the touchdown and the crowd goes wild.
Wait.
Is the guy wrapped around the football my brother?
My eyes shoot to the jumbotron where there’s a highlight of the touchdown and the number sixty-nine jersey.
Sebastian just scored?
I thought I knew how football worked, but maybe I don’t because I didn’t realize a lineman could score, but I guess I’m wrong.
I throw my hands up and scream extra loud.
“THICC SIX, BABY!” one of Annie’s brothers yells as he’s high-fiving the crowd.
A short second later, the football sails through the uprights to add another point to the score as the clock expires. Seven to six. Revolutionaries win!
The crowd erupts in chaos, throwing snow and cheering throughout the stadium.
We make our way down to the field, albeit very slowly. It’s chaotic and a crush, but we finally find a player we recognize.
My eyes catch on Calvin’s, and I’m greeted with the biggest smile. We make our way toward each other until we are face to face. He hesitates for a second, then throws up his hand, and I slap my hand with his.
“Congratulations!” I lean in and shout into his ear.
