Coach called the same play. I warned Mike, but he saw what had happened last time.
“Down, Set ... HUT!”
I was surprised when Bloomington took the bait again. This time Mike was able to get by the less-experienced replacement safeties and scored. We were crawling back into this game. We were now down 24–14.
We traded scores the rest of the third period. When the fourth period started we were down 38–28. The crowd was getting their money’s worth. I’d been sacked five times, but hadn’t let that stop us. I was feeling it, though. Moose had pulled me from the defense because I was limping. On one of the sacks I had rolled my ankle, but I didn’t think it was anything serious.
Bloomington was in the middle of one of their time-eater drives when we caught a break. They fumbled the ball, and Tim fell on it.
“This was what we needed. Let’s get this done,” I told the guys in the huddle.
Before we came out, Coach Diamond told me to run the hurry-up, so we had three plays called. Wolf was back in the game. We switched from having a twins backfield to moving Ed to the slot, and Jake was the lone back with me in the shotgun.
“Down, Set ... HUT!”
They had figured out that Bill was my favorite target, so they were keeping a close eye on him, but he wasn’t my favorite because he could be shut down. He was bracketed by two defenders as he went upfield. He did a jab step and cut over the middle. I had the ball on a rope to him as soon as he made his cut. We picked up nine yards. We caught Bloomington napping as we ran to the line of scrimmage.
“Down!”
We went on first sound to further confound them. We had run the same play, and when Bill made his cut I pump-faked and turned to the other side to find Jeff streaking up the sideline, with a cornerback in step. I threw one of those high arcing rainbow passes that dropped into Jeff’s hands. The corner pushed him out of bounds for a thirty-eight yard gain.
We were now on their 31 yard line. We sprinted to the ball. The line judge had to wait for the chains to get in place and then signaled that time would start on the snap. I checked and they were in cover two. I called an audible that would have Wolf run a deep skinny post that would split the safeties.
“Green, Green! Y Strong! Y Strong!” I called, making sure everyone heard the call.
“Down, Set ... HUT!”
On the snap, our offensive line failed again. It looked like a jailbreak. I was tempted to throw the ball away but saw Wolf was going to be in position to make a play. I threw it early and took a little off it so that he would have a chance. As soon as I let the ball go I was hit by three defenders. I heard the crowd erupt. I crawled out of the pile to see Wolf had scored. We were now within a field goal at 38–35.
That score held late into the fourth quarter. The clock was within two minutes, and Bloomington was doing their best to run it out. We ended up using our three timeouts and got the ball back on our own 18 yard line with 58 seconds left. This reminded me of the drill I’d run at the USC camp.
“One last chance, boys. Let’s win this!” I said. “Remember, we have no timeouts. If the ball’s in bounds or not a first down, the clock’ll be running. Hustle every chance you get.”
We had four plays called. We had practiced them in sequence all week long, so everyone knew what they had to do.
“Down, Set ... HUT!”
On the snap, Bloomington sent everyone after me. We had anticipated this and ran a screen for Jake. I was running for my life when I released the ball. You could see the ‘Uh Oh’ looks from the Bloomington players. Jake gathered it in, and Jim and Wolf led the way. Jake broke free and scored. My excitement was tempered by the yellow flag on the ground. Tim had held one of their linebackers.
We were now on the 9 yard line with only 42 seconds play. We switched to an empty backfield.
“Down, Set ... HUT!”
I hit Jeff on a nifty down-and-out for fifteen yards. He got out of bounds to stop the clock. We ran up to the line of scrimmage, which was now on our 24 yard line. I took a moment to see what they were in. They were now in their nickel package. Bloomington would be playing the sidelines hard.
“Down, Set ... HUT!”
Bill made a nice break for the sideline, but I caught Ed out of the corner of my eye. He was running a post and I couldn’t resist. He caught it and was brought down on the 50 yard line. We had 13 seconds left when I lined us up and spiked the ball.
Coach Hope sent in the next play with Bert taking Ed’s spot.
“Coach said to throw it to the middle of the field and then spike it.”
Was he nuts? I lined us up and called out the snap count.
“Down, Set ... HUT!”
Bloomington had replaced their linebackers with defensive backs. They were guarding against the deep ball and the sidelines. Their line got a nice push, and the pocket was going to collapse. I dumped the ball off to Bert and he picked up a nice gain to get us to the 35 yard line. We ran up and spiked the ball with only 2 seconds left. I was confused when the coaches seemed to be arguing on the sideline. I was even more confused when they sent out the field goal team.
Our kicker was money inside the 25 yard line. From here, he had about a one in ten chance. It also caught Bloomington by surprise. They hurried off their defense and got their field goal defense set up. Mike was the holder and he set the team. I held my breath, as did everyone in the stadium.
The ball was snapped and Mike put the ball down, but he pulled it back up like he was Lucy in the Charlie Brown comics. Wolf had pushed the outside defender wide and then turned for Mike to throw him the ball. There was no one within five yards of him. The race was on, and at the 5 yard line, one of the defenders caught him. Wolf staggered and stumbled. He put one hand down to get him into the end zone to win the game 41–38.
This was one of those moments when you realize you might be good enough to win it all. Poor Wolf was buried under a dog pile. It took a while to get it together enough to go shake Bloomington’s hands. Ted wished me luck the rest of the season and promised to look me up in the playoffs.
I WAS KEEPING MY PROMISE to Paige and having my ankle and all my new bruises looked at when Coach Hope found me.
“Good game,” he told me, and then turned to Paige. “Could we have a moment?”
Paige nodded and left us alone.
“I wanted to let you know that I see what you were talking about with the force versus force comment the other day. My stubbornness should have cost us the game today. We can’t get down by three scores and expect to win many games. I would prefer to be the one up by three scores.”
“Me too, Coach,” I assured him.
He sent Paige back in. She was checking out my ankle when Becky checked on me.
“What’s the diagnosis, Miss Price?” Becky asked.
“It seems to be a mild right ankle sprain affecting the anterior talofibular ligament,” Paige said.
I held up my hand.
“English, please,” I requested.
They both laughed at me.
“Ah, I almost forgot! We’re dealing with a jock,” Paige said.
A week ago, that would have pissed me off. I was starting to understand her sense of humor.
“There are two ways you can sprain your ankle. The common one is to roll your ankle, and that affects the outside tendon,” Becky explained.
“The anterior thingy,” I said.
“Yes,” Paige confirmed. “In the high ankle sprain, however, a different set of ligaments are injured, called the syndesmosis. The syndesmosis is a set of ligaments that are located above the ankle joint. You normally hurt those making a sudden cut.”