August 21, 2015
“GAME DAY!” I excitedly yell as I eat my french toast. I’m fired up for this game, but the day seems to just drag on; finally, though, it’s 2:30, and the final bell rings. I dash over to the locker room and change out of my jeans and T-shirt and into a white Under Armour tank top and my white football pants. My mom comes up to the school and meets me out in the quad, where she gives me a bag with my pre-game meal — a 12-pack of nuggets from Chick-Fil-A and a bottle of water — and a big hug. I take my time eating, and eventually some other kids start coming in to hang out before the game, which isn’t until five o’clock. At 3:30, we all put on our jerseys and go out to the field to stretch and warm up. At 4:30, we finish our warm-ups, and at 4:40, head coach Michael Lawrence leads us in a prayer. Tyler Richardson and Grant Lawrence, our two seniors, go out for the coin toss; we win the toss and choose to receive first.
Our first play of the game is a run for 32 yards by our junior tailback Isaiah Hightower; but we can’t get anything else going, and we have to kick a field goal…which we miss. From there, we trade punts back-and-forth for three possessions, and then Isaiah busts another 32-yard run, this one for a touchdown. Their first play of the next drive is, of course, a fifty yard touchdown run; in the second quarter, we strike again on a 23-yard pass to Tyler. I finally get my first tackle on the next possession, and my first catch (for 16 yards) on the first play after we force a three-and-out. Isaiah scores again, this time from 29 yards out, to put us up 21-7. They put in their backup quarterback, a lefty, and he tosses a twenty-yard touchdown pass to cut the lead to seven. Our QB throws an interception on the next possession…and they give it right back, but we can’t do anything with it; we punt, and after one last Hail Mary attempt, we go into halftime with a 21-14 lead.
At halftime, Coach Lamb lights into me. “You call that being a star player?” he yells. “N-no sir,” I hesitate, and he pats my shoulder. “Well, if you want to be a star, you better start playing like one.” He leaves it at that, and I come out with a vengeance in the second half, picking up two tackles on the first possession, helping pave the way for two more touchdown runs by Isaiah, and adding a pass breakup and another solo tackle on their final possession. We take a 35-20 lead into the fourth quarter, and the score is 42-28 when I pick off a pass that I think should seal the game for us. Coach Lawrence pulls our starting QB and puts in his backup, Zach Lawrence; Zach is a lot more athletic than our starter, Scott Peterson, but he’s not as accurate a passer or as good a decision-maker — this shows when he loses a fumble (which is returned for a touchdown) and then throws an interception (also returned for a touchdown), tying the game. We bring Scott back in for the final possession, and he manages to get us in field-goal range. Our kicker doesn’t miss this one, and we win the ballgame, 45-42.
After the game, Isaiah is a popular target for the local reporters; they nearly all flock to him in the locker room, trying to get an interview. “He did have 209 yards and 4 touchdowns, after all,” Ryan Robinson says from a locker across from me. “Good game, by the way,” he adds, and he slips out the back door of the locker room. “Thanks,” I say as I take off my football uniform. I shower, change, and walk out to the school parking lot, where my mom and my sister are waiting for me. “Where’s Dad?” I ask, but I get rudely ignored. I move my hand over to change the radio station—and my mom slaps it away violently. “What the f***?” I yell. She slaps me again, this time in the face. Kelsey unbuckles her seatbelt and moves between us, but I’m already out of the car. I sulk back into the locker room, where I sit down at my locker and start crying.
Then the door swings open, and three little kids come darting into the room. I try to hide my head in my hands, but the smallest of them — a young boy with his light hair in a mohawk — notices me crying and asks “what’s wrong?” I look into his shimmering blue eyes. What the heck, he seems trustworthy. I explain everything to him — starting with right after the game, ‘cause he quickly told me “I was there” when I started to tell him about that — and when I’m done, he climbs onto and sits in my lap and starts tickling me on the chin. Finally, he introduces himself. “My name’s Evan Hill,” he says, “and I’m seven years old. This is my sister Carly—“ he points to a girl standing behind him “—and this—“ he points to the other boy “—is my friend Alex. His brother is the quarterback.”
It turns out that Scott and his parents are still hanging around, and they end up taking me, along with the other three kids, home with them. Mr. Peterson insists on calling my mom to tell her I’m okay, but she refuses to talk to me. After we all watch an episode of SportsCenter, Mrs. Peterson sends Alex, Evan, and Carly to bed, and Scott and I decide to go out to the backyard and hang out for a while. As soon as he shuts the back door, he starts to thank me. “Wait a minute. What are you thanking me for?” I ask, and he says that he’s thanking me for taking his spot at middle linebacker, ‘cause it allowed him to focus more on being a quarterback. “God knows we don’t need Zach back there trying to be Johnny Manziel 2.0,” he laughs. I frown. “Wait. Are you saying you don’t trust Zach at QB?” He brushes it off. “No, no, no, it’s not that. He’s got the talent — he’s got more talent than me, in my opinion. But he tries to do too much out there, and it shows. He wants to be the star player. I’ve come to realize that it’s not all about that. You have to be a great leader and a great decision-maker to play QB. And that’s where I think he falls short.” I nod and pick up a baseball that had been lying at my feet. “You play?” I ask him. “Yeah. Third base,” he says. “Cool. I’m a pitcher myself. Wanna throw?”
We then play catch for a long time, well past my regular bedtime of 9:30, and we talk the whole time, getting to know each other more and more with every toss back and forth. “Alright, it’s getting late, maybe we should head inside,” he finally says, and once we get back inside, I take a shower and quickly fall asleep in the Petersons’ guest bedroom, a spacious room on the second story.
August 22, 2015
I wake up feeling very refreshed after a good night of sleep. Man, I needed that. I put on my clothes from the night before and walk downstairs for breakfast. “Take your pick,” Mrs. Peterson says as she points to a row of cabinets full of different breakfast foods — most of them cereals. I decide to have a bowl of Apple Jacks and a glass of orange juice. Alex comes down next and sits next to me, whispering in my ear that it’s Scott’s eighteenth birthday today. As I eat, I read the sports section of the paper, paying special attention to the high school section, where the results of the three games from last night are listed.
_________________ Olive - she/they // NAPOLI FOR MVP // post count doesn't matter
yeah that log's dead too- i mean on hiatus (yes that one too) (seriously all of them now lol) (haha unless...?)
"All people are good for something. The important thing is finding what." - Tom
BrewersFuzz wrote: PEDs wrote: i think we banned him cause he was an idiot glad i never got banned for that
Second Member of the 10,000 Post Cult
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