Page 10 of Catching Our Moment

Shaw

After all the pomp and circumstance of the opening, I stepped into the huddle, shaking out my hands as our quarterback went over the first play—a short jet sweep to Davy. My job was to block for him.

Done.

We gained a few yards in the next two plays but nothing to cheer over.

Back to the huddle a few more times. A few more plays—some good, some not so good.

I got to seven minutes left in the first quarter when I was on the sidelines, and curiosity got the better of me. I turned to look up over my shoulder to see if my gang was out in the seats.

Grace and a few of their friends were sitting by the railing, talking but watching the field.

Aaron and Kelcie were in the doorway, Aaron leaning against the frame, my jersey proudly displayed.

Kelcie leaned over to him, pointing my way, saying something to him, and waving.

I held up my hand and was relieved when he straightened and waved back.

Okay. Things were okay.

Davy smacked me in the chest. “Come on. We’re up.”

After making progress down the field, we finally reached the seventeen-yard line. The coaches called for a play that was my specialty.

I lined up for the snap and took off running alongside our fastest wide receiver, who cut to the outside—a decoy for the defense to chase.

I cut off the midfield and saw my quarterback scrambling before he launched the ball to me.

I had enough time to eye a defender on a collision course with me from the right.

I lifted my hand in the air, grasped the ball with my fingertips, and pulled it into my chest just as I juked him to the right.

Within two strides, I reached the end zone for the touchdown.

I stopped on a dime, and with the ball in my hand, I pointed at the skybox where Kelcie and the crew were. This was for them.

Without them, I wouldn’t have been on this field.

Without them, I don’t know where life would’ve taken me.

When I’d first moved to town with a single mom and a younger brother, I’d been a lost, shy kid with a bad haircut and big ears.

Kelcie and the gang had practically enveloped me and became the family I’d made.

Summers down by the river, we all begrudgingly became friends.

Tyler, Wyatt, and I would escape to the woods behind Grace’s aunt’s farm when the girls were being weird, and we needed to do boy stuff.

Grace tutored me in math, Tyler introduced me to football, and Kelcie ran laps with me on the track.

And then there was Wyatt, who was different than most kids—hell, than most adults.

When Grace’s aunt offered him the kindness the world had never shown him, and we all followed suit, we became his family, and he was the glue that kept us together all these years.

I tossed the ball over to a ref while my teammates Davy and Braydon smacked my helmet in appreciation for the TD.

They fell in line while I did my signature Shawfield Shuffle—a bit of a two-step with swag.

I didn’t do it as often as I used to, but the roar of the fans—even at the rivals’ stadium—was louder when I did.

It was a special occasion, after all. I had to ham it up for Aaron and Kelcie.

The rest of the game was competitive but relatively uneventful. With Baltimore up and one quarter to go, the score was twenty-one to twenty-seven.

I wasn’t worried. Our offense was closing in, and if our defense could hold them, we’d be okay.

I glanced up at the box again, wondering how Aaron was handling it.

A hand smacked the back of my helmet. “Come on, man. We aren’t quite done yet,” one of the receivers said.

More blocking. More running.

Baltimore was forced to sub in their rookie linebacker when their starter went out injured. And now I was forced to deal with a smack-talking kid with a lot of ego and not a lot of sense. “Hey, old man, let’s see you run that play again with me on the field this time.”

The problem with hot-shot, first-round rookies was that they were used to being the best. From their middle school years through college, they’d been rock stars.

But now they were in the big leagues and had to prove themselves.

Talking shit to veterans didn’t earn respect, yet each year, some young fool tried it with me, and today, it looked like it was going to be this linebacker with something to prove.

I shook my head and lined up across from the tough-talking rookie. “How about I give you a heads-up when that happens?” I replied, asshole left unsaid at the end of my statement.

He lined up and sneered at me from across the line. I rolled my eyes.

Davy finished the latest drive with a beautiful run, and we got the extra point. We were up twenty-eight to twenty-seven.

I was running on the field and glanced at the skybox, wondering if Aaron could make it through the whole game. I wanted to spend time with them afterward and see what he thought of being at the stadium.

Head in the game, Shawfield.

The quarterback gave us the play, and we broke the huddle.

I put on my game face, ignoring the rookie’s incessant bantering.

Sure, I might be older. I may even be slower at this point in my career…

but I was more experienced. The quarterback took the snap, I juked to the inside, and once he gained momentum, I cut back across his back, opening myself up for a long pass to what seemed like an open field.

This would be great. Another TD for them to see. This would clinch the win.

BAM.

What the fuck?—

BAM.

Well, this sucks?—

WHACK.

Fuck—