We were experiencing a late-summer heat wave, and it was still in the mid-80s at kickoff. It looked like the whole town had turned out for our game. I could smell the fresh-cut grass as I stretched. This was what I loved, game day. I knew this was just a practice game, but I was excited to finally not have to hold back.
We warmed up as a team, and Tim, Yuri, Wolf, and Derek came up front to lead us. I invited Trent up because he was listed as the number-one quarterback. I figured that after tonight, Coach Hope would finally relent and let the players who played the best move into their positions.
To be honest, after sophomore year’s mess with the seniors and steroids, and junior year’s issues with hazing and Mike Herndon, I was pretty much over the drama. If Coach Hope was willing to face the Lincoln fans and explain why he was jerking our chains, let him. Jeff was documenting everything, and he was still writing articles for the local paper.
If it hadn’t been for Coach Mason, I might have been worried. He was spending most of his time with me. What he was teaching me was more valuable than messing with depth charts right now.
After we warmed up, we walked to the visitors locker room. I found it amusing that Coach Hope was taking this so seriously. He put Coach Mason and Moose in charge of us. The Orange, aka first, team had the rest of the coaching staff helping them.
Coach Mason and Moose were talking, so I pulled the team together. I took a moment to look each one of them in the eye.
“Before the game, I told myself that it didn’t matter where I was on the depth chart. Looking around, I think you all should be on the first team. For whatever reason, we’re like that Christmas show with all the broken and unwanted toys,” I said as Moose and Coach Mason came and stood beside me.
Coach Mason nodded for me to continue.
“This is our chance to show that they need to rethink their perceptions. You’re being given an opportunity to prove that you belong as starters. Lincoln Bulldogs are known for their fight. Lincoln Bulldogs are winners. Being a Lincoln Bulldog means something. This is where our run for the State Championship begins.
“Yes, this game doesn’t count in the record books, and our opponent is our teammates. But I don’t plan to lose. I want us to dominate. I want you to fire off the ball and show them that they made a mistake holding you back. Seize this opportunity. Take it in your bulldog jaws and don’t let go.
“Bring it in,” Coach Mason said, and we put our hands in the middle.
“Who are we?” I yelled.
“Bulldogs!” my teammates responded.
“Where are we?”
“Our House!”
“Let’s stroll on out there like we own this place,” Wolf said.
Someone started the chant ‘Our House’ as we walked out of the locker room. It was subdued at first and gradually got louder.
“Our House! Our House!”
We heard the band playing our school song as the Orange team ran onto the field. I stopped us at the edge of the building to give them their moment.
“Line up four across,” Wolf ordered.
I smiled. I liked how he was doing this. Once he had us organized, we began to move forward as a team. The crowd had started to calm down, and as the ringing of those damned cowbells subsided, they heard us chanting ‘Our House.’ When we reached the goal line, Tim and Wolf linked arms with me as we marched out. The crowd took up the chant.
“Our House! Our House!”
It was fun to see the first-teamers’ smiles drop off their faces. Several of them knew their days were numbered, and we were there to take what was ours.
I think Moose and Coach Mason appreciated that we walked. Coach Mason was in his 70s, and Moose was near retirement. They had us gather around on the visitors sideline.
“That was different,” Coach Mason said.
“Just remember, they’re your teammates, and we’ll need them when the season starts,” Moose said.
“That doesn’t mean to go easy on them; it means no cheap shots,” Coach Mason said.
The referee came over.
“We need someone for the coin toss.”
“David, go deal with that,” Moose said. “And David, get us the damn ball. I want to put seven on them right away.”
We won the coin toss and got the ball. For a practice game, they decide to skip kickoffs and punts to avoid injuries. We were starting on our 20 yard line. Right before we took the field, my stomach revolted. I stepped to the side, jerked my helmet off, and threw up. The Lincoln fans stood up and cheered. They knew that meant they were about to see something special. I was ready.
We already had the first three plays called. Coach Mason wanted us to go quick. I lined up under center with Bert at fullback and Jake at tailback. Wolf was lined up next to the tackle as my tight end. My half brother Phil was the wide receiver on Wolf’s side, and Roc was on the other.
“Down!”
Wolf stood up, stepped back, and motioned for Phil to move forward to take his spot on the line.
“Set!”
Wolf came in motion towards me. I watched to see how the defense reacted. When no one moved, I knew they were in their base zone defense. If the outside linebacker had followed Wolf, they would be in man-to-man. When Wolf reached me, he stopped and turned towards the line.
“Hut, HUT!”
Coach Mason’s plan was to make them respect the run. If they had to worry about that, then my play-action passing game would eat them up.
On the snap, Wolf shot through the hole and was met by their linebacker. Wolf was six-five and 235 pounds. He’d lost weight over the summer but hadn’t lost any of his strength. Their linebacker was five-eleven and 185 pounds. I give the kid credit for taking Wolf head-on; even I wouldn’t want to do that. Wolf put the kid on his butt and was looking for his next victim when Bert flew by him and crushed the safety. Jake was right on his tail and neatly stepped around them and was gone.
I jogged down to the other side of the field to play defense. Coach Hope had them run the same play against us. Don Crown was their tight end, and he shot through the hole to block me. I tossed him to the side, and Ed hit me. Ty was right behind him, and he juked to step around us. Unfortunately, he stepped towards Tim, who was there to clean up the play for only a three-yard gain.
On the next play, they ran the sweep to my side. Don was looking for a little payback and was waiting for me as I sprinted down the line to contain Ty. I gave him a head fake, and he lunged. I neatly stepped around him. Yuri had Ty running for his life. If I were him, I would have just run out of bounds and taken the small gain. Ty was an All-State running back for a reason. He stopped on a dime and cut back. I won’t repeat what Yuri said, but he was all smiles when I exploded into Ty.
“What the hell, Dawson?” Ty complained.
“Next time, just run out of bounds,” I said, and he gave me a look. “No, seriously. I know what you’re capable of. Sometimes it’s better to just take what the defense gives you.”
I knew he wouldn’t listen to my advice now, but after the game, he would think about it. I wanted Ty to play with me all year, not get hurt early in the season for a stupid reason.
It was now a passing down. I had planned to tell Trent about his tells—dropping his right foot and staring at the receiver he intended to throw to. But Tim had reminded me that Trent was going to be our opponent tonight. I’d fill him in Monday morning at our voluntary practice.
Tim saw it when Trent dropped his foot and looked at Ed. He raised his fist and looked at Yuri, who’d seen it as well. On the snap, Tim shot a gap to chase Trent down. I stepped back to cover the middle of the field. Don made a shallow cut and started to cross in front of me. Since he was within five yards of the line of scrimmage, I could touch him. I popped him in the shoulder pads and sent him sprawling.
Trent saw that Yuri had snuck out to help cover Ed, so he looked for his second option, Don. Tim was in his face, and I’m not sure what Trent was thinking. He tossed the ball toward where Don should have been. It was almost out of my reach, so I dove for the ball. I thought I got it, but the back judge ruled that I’d trapped it.