Second Down - Chapter 18

Saturday, I was out for my first game actually on the field with the JV team. We were playing Whyatt High School from Fort Worth, which had a record of three and one as opposed to our four and oh, and they had a hell of an offense from the tape we'd watched.

Still, I was as pumped as I could be to finally show what I could do on a slightly bigger stage. More so because this was a home game and our stands were packed. The away team's stands were much more full than I was used to on the freshman team, but that could also have been partly explained by it being Saturday instead of a Thursday, making it a lot easier for people to make the long drive to get here.

"Ready to show us what you've got, hotshot?" Jerry Roach asked, bumping my shoulder as we jogged to the sideline after ripping through the banner and screaming like banshees.

"Just try to keep up," I shot back with a grin.

We got the coin toss and the kickoff return went okay, getting the ball to Whyatt's 25-yard line. Coach Holloway's first series of calls were all runs, which wasn't a shock. Wheaton was a running team, and everyone knew it. I hoped to be able to change some of that, but I knew I wasn't going to be able to do that in the first game.

Not that running plays were a mistake. The coach stuck to it because it worked.

As the snap came, I pivoted and handed Jerry the ball. He exploded off the left tackle, breaking through a narrow gap. He juked a linebacker and plowed forward, dragging a cornerback for an extra yard. Six yards. Not bad.

"Nice work," I said as we jogged back to the huddle.

"Just getting started."

The next play was a fullback drive. On the snap, the line held strong, pushing back Whyatt's defense as Joe Gardner barreled through the middle, bouncing off a linebacker and driving forward for three yards before the pile swallowed him.

"Third and short!" Jerry called as he trotted back to the huddle. "Let's move the sticks."

Coach went safe again.

I faked a quick drop back to hold the linebackers for a beat before turning to hand Jerry the ball again. He followed Elton and Bryce, who double-teamed the defensive end just enough for Jerry to duck through the gap. He got hit almost immediately but twisted and fell forward, picking up two yards and the first down. The sideline erupted in cheers.

I almost whooped with joy as coach called our first passing play. A short lob, but at least it wasn't handing the ball off anymore.

I dropped back, as the receivers all cut short routes. The defense bit slightly on the play-action, and Miles turned just as I released the ball. It was low but catchable, and Miles scooped it up, turning upfield for four yards before being shoved out of bounds.

Not my most stellar work, but I thought it was at least workable. Coach didn't, I guess, since it was back to the ground game.

On the next play, Jerry took the handoff, bouncing outside to avoid a clogged middle. He turned upfield, but a cornerback came flying in, wrapping him up after a modest three-yard gain. The defense was tightening up, and we knew it.

On third down, we called for another run, this time sending Joe up the gut again. The snap was clean, and the handoff smooth, but their defensive line basically knew what we were doing now.

Joe barely made it to the line of scrimmage before he was swallowed up, leaving us with fourth down. Coach waved for the punt team, and we jogged off the field. Not the worst drive ever, but the slow grinding didn't really get the team energized.

Whyatt took over and immediately showed why their offense was so dangerous. Their quarterback had an arm and his coaches weren't as afraid to let him use it as Coach Holloway was. He kept threading passes over the middle and connecting on deep outs. Our defense managed to bend without breaking, forcing them to settle for a field goal, but I couldn't help feeling a twinge of envy watching their passing game click so smoothly.

It also put us down by three.

The rest of the quarter saw us sticking to short runs and conservative passes. We chipped away at the defense, picking up small chunks of yardage on running plays, while I mixed in a couple of play-action passes to keep the defense honest, but so short it wasn't enough to actually get anything going and we struggled to string together enough plays to threaten the end zone. Not that running plays were a mistake. The coach stuck to it because it worked.

As the snap came, I pivoted and handed Jerry the ball. He exploded off the left tackle, breaking through a narrow gap. He juked a linebacker and plowed forward, dragging a cornerback for an extra yard. Six yards. Not bad.

The rest of the quarter saw us sticking to short runs and conservative passes. We chipped away at the defense, picking up small chunks of yardage on running plays, while I mixed in a couple of play-action passes to keep the defense honest, but so short it was not enough to actually get anything going and we struggled to string together enough plays to threaten the end zone.

I had a little bit of hope as the second quarter started when Coach called another play-action pass, giving me a chance to open the field up.

I faked the handoff to Jerry, the defense biting hard as their linebackers surged forward. Rolling out to my right, I kept my eyes downfield. Miles broke out of his short route, cutting toward the sideline. The corner covering him stumbled, just enough for me to release the ball. It spiraled cleanly, hitting Miles in stride. He turned upfield and managed to fight off the safety for an extra couple of yards before going down. Eight yards. Not bad.

It felt good to get the ball actually moving again.

On the next snap, I handed the ball off to Jerry, who took it off tackle. Elton and Bryce opened just enough of a gap, and Jerry burst through it. He juked past a safety and stiff-armed another defender, earning an extra five yards before being brought down with a fifteen-yard gain. The sideline erupted, along with the stands, as we started making some traction.

Not that it was all big plays. The next series was a steady grind. Three runs back-to-back chipped away at Whyatt’s defense, giving us another first down, but just barely.

Coach gave me another shot at a short pass, and things went off the rails. I saw Dwight running a short crossing route, open by a step and I threw it just a hair too far ahead. Dwight stretched for it, but their linebacker read the pass perfectly. He jumped the route and snagged the ball.

Before Dwight could react, he was sprinting upfield. Elton Marti managed to trip him up after about ten yards, but the damage was done and the momentum shifted back to Whyatt. Their offense picked us apart with a mix of quick mid-range passes and solid runs, driving straight downfield. Despite our defense’s best efforts, they punched it in for a touchdown with a short pass over the middle, and then added the extra point on top of it, putting the game at ten and oh.

That really sapped us, although our defense seemed to take it personally and tightened up some. The next few drives were a slog on both sides. Whyatt’s defense adjusted, stacking the box against our runs and forcing us to punt twice. Our defense returned the favor and kept Whyatt from scoring again. Both teams traded punts, and neither managed more than twenty yards per drive.

To say I was frustrated was an understatement. We'd started the quarter so well and my interception had taken the wind out of our sails.

Thankfully it didn't last, maybe because they were having as many problems as we were. With two minutes left in the half, we finally started putting something together. It wasn't particularly easy and every yard was a fight. Jerry and Joe kept grinding it out, forcing third downs on almost every set of downs, but we converted each time.

Coach even let me throw again, in spite of my earlier interception, with short slants to Miles, Mickey, and Dwight, which gave us just enough breathing room to keep the chains moving. By the time we crossed midfield, the clock had ticked down to under a minute.

On first-and-ten from the twenty, Jerry followed Elton through a gap, dragging a linebacker for five yards, putting us at second-and-five. I kept an eye on the clock as we hurried back to the line.

The next play was a power run to the left. Bryce and Elton collapsed the edge, and Jerry bounced outside, picking up seven yards before being shoved out of bounds. First-and-goal at the eight with thirty seconds left.

Coach signaled another run. I'd hoped we could go for a short pass, but even passing teams tended to veer toward the ground game at the goal line. The snap was clean, and Jerry barreled straight up the middle, fighting through a swarm of defenders. He gained four hard-fought yards, and we scrambled to reset. The clock kept ticking.

On second-and-goal, Joe took the handoff, pounding into the pile. He was stopped at the two-yard line. Third down. Ten seconds.

We hurried back to the line in a hurry-up offense, with me calling the play from the line, which was another handoff to Jerry. The snap hit my hands, and I turned to him. He charged forward, following Elton’s lead block. The defense surged, but Jerry lowered his shoulder and pushed through the pile. His momentum carried him over the goal line as the referee’s arms shot up. Touchdown!

The crowd roared, and the sideline exploded like we'd won the game, instead of coming up a field goal behind at halftime. I think they were just excited to see us do anything of note.

The extra point was good and we headed to the fieldhouse behind ten to seven. It wasn’t pretty, but at least we were back in it.

We were in good spirits, in spite of still losing, as we headed into the fieldhouse. Sure, we were down, but getting that touchdown right before the break had injected some life into the team.

"Alright, boys," Coach said as he began his mid-game speech. "They're good, but so are we. Defense, tighten up those zones. Don't let their receivers get behind you so much. You know they're going to throw a lot, so be ready for it. Offense, we're moving the ball, but we need to finish drives. Stick to the plan, and we'll wear 'em down. Got it?"

A chorus of "Yes, Coach!" came back to him.

As the players dispersed, I made my way over to him, waiting patiently for a chance to talk.

"What is it, Sims?"

"Coach, we're running fine, but their secondary's cheating up cause they know we're going to do it almost every play. Mickey and Dwight have been beating their guys consistently and they've been light in the backfield. If we open up the passing game a little, I think we can exploit that."

He shook his head before I even finished. "I appreciate the input, but we run our system, Blake. I've been coaching this game a long time and believe it or not, I might know what I'm doing. You stick to running my plays. We don't need flash; we need execution."

"But..."

"No buts, Sims. You focus on what I call. That's how you help this team."

I bit back my frustration and nodded. "Yes, Coach."

As I turned away Jorden, who'd only been a few steps away, said, "Guess you're not as big a deal as you thought, huh?"

I shot him a glare but let it slide. He wasn't worth it.

Maybe talking to the coach had been a bad idea though, because as the third quarter started, Coach pulled me and sat me on the bench, sending Jorden onto the field instead, looking smug.

I was seethed on the inside, but I knew better than to argue, since that was what probably put me on the bench in the first place.

My exile didn't last long, however, as the first drive went downhill fast. On second down, Whyatt's blitz overwhelmed our line. To make it worse, Jorden hesitated in the pocket and their linebacker drilled him. The ball popped loose, and Whyatt's defensive end scooped it up, sprinting untouched into the end zone, leaving us seventeen and seven after the extra point.

Coach's experiment ended with that goal. "Sims, get back in there."

I grabbed my helmet and jogged onto the field after the kickoff landed us at the twenty-five. I wanted to show him that keeping me in was the way to go, but Coach stuck to the ground game. Jerry took the first carry off-tackle, barreling forward for six yards. The next play was a fullback dive, and Joe fought his way up the middle for three more.

On third-and-short, I handed it back to Jerry. He followed Bryce's block, slipping through the line and picking up five yards to move the chains. The next series was more of the same. Jerry hit the hole hard, grinding out eight yards over two carries. On third down, Joe powered through for another three, keeping the drive alive.

It was slow football and it ate up a lot of time on the clock that we really couldn't afford being a touchdown plus a field goal behind, but it was keeping the ball moving.

Jerry continued to hammer their defense, bouncing outside for seven yards on the next play. On second down, he juked a linebacker and dragged a safety for another six. The grind continued. By the time we hit our thirty-five, Jerry had racked up thirty-two yards over six carries, Joe had six yards, and Miles had two yards, both one-yard punches that didn't get anywhere.

We had made progress, moving the ball forty yards down the field on ten plays.

Finally, Coach called a play-action pass. I took the snap and stepped back before rolling out, scanning for an open man. Mickey had a step on his guy down the sideline, but as I released the ball, their safety closed fast, breaking it up.

It wasn't an interception, but it also wasn't yardage.

We were back to the running game as nearly a fourth of the quarter had ticked down on our monumentally slow drive.

We lined up and the snap came clean. I stepped back and stretched out the ball for Jerry to grab as he ran past, but Whyatt blitzed and the pocket collapsed almost instantly, crumbling around us.

To make it worse, it was the right side that collapsed, and Jerry was running to the left, not looking at the linemen closing in behind him. He wasn't going to turn on the jets before it was too late, looking for a hole to punch through, and ending up getting blindsided by a linebacker.

We'd be lucky if he just took the loss. More likely, a hit like that results in a fumble.

I had a split second to decide, hand it off and watch Jerry get buried or pull it back. I didn't even think, I just yanked the ball back and took off toward the opening their defense had left as they zeroed in on Jerry and where he'd be after he grabbed the ball. Their entire line was so focused on Jerry to notice me turning and running like my life depended on it until I was out of the pocket and through a massive hole they created in their line with that blitz.

I bolted down the right side. Adrenaline surged through me as I sprinted past the line of scrimmage. Their cornerback saw me too late, backpedaling in a desperate attempt to adjust, dropping his coverage and coming for me. I juked left, then right, feeling the defenders' hands swipe at air.

I heard our crowd erupt as I broke free into open field, but I kept focused on my goal. The end zone coming up fast.

Thirty yards downfield, I felt the burn in my legs. I could see their safety angling in for me, but I was tight against the sideline without many options but to just run as fast as my legs could carry me. He finally closed the distance, diving at my legs and clipping me just enough to throw me off balance, sending me tumbling out of bounds at the three-yard line. The crowd exploded and my teammates rushed down to meet me, slapping my helmet and practically knocking me over again just as I stood back up.

"Way to keep us alive, Sims!" Andre Price, our center, yelled as he helped steady me on my feet.

I grinned through the adrenaline, catching my breath as we jogged back to the huddle. I felt truly alive. First-and-goal, three yards out. We could do this.

Coach wasn't taking any risks after that scramble and called a fullback plunge. It was the right call. We had four downs and three yards. No reason to try anything fancy.

I faked a quick look after the snap, not that anyone thought I was going to throw it. The defense knew what play we were doing just as well as we did. I slapped the ball into Joe's gut and he lowered his head, driving forward behind our line, which surged with all its might.

Their linebackers hit him hard, but Joe kept his legs churning, pushing forward until he broke the plane.

It was less running and more pushing Joe's body across the line, but it worked. The referee's arms shot up. Touchdown!

The stands erupted again and the energy on the sideline was electric. Elton grabbed Joe, lifting him off the ground in celebration as the rest of us swarmed them.

As I jogged off the field for the extra point, which ended up being good, putting us at seventeen to fourteen.

"Nice run, Sims, but stop trying to do everything yourself. If the play isn't there, throw it away or make the play within the system. Scrambling will end up in a turnover and I don't want to see it. Got it?"

"Yes, Coach."

How could he see just grinding away was not going to win us the game. Yes, I'd been lucky to get through, but had I thrown it away or handed it to Jerry, at best we would have ended up punting and we'd still be ten points down watching their offense start a drive.

"Good," he said, clapping me on the shoulder, I guess unaware of how frustrating that was.

The rest of the third quarter was more of a grind. Mickey and Dwight kept finding openings in the secondary, but except for two passes, we kept the ball on the ground. Sure we chipped away at Whyatt 's defense, but nothing substantial enough to threaten another score.

Thankfully, our defense held strong, keeping Whyatt from gaining any meaningful yardage either, so it didn't get worse. The quarter ended still seventeen to seven, and it seemed like at best, we were going to manage to tie this up, since these slow drives just ate up clock without getting us enough touchdowns.

We went right into the fourth quarter with most of the excitement from my run and our touchdown burned out by more grind. We just couldn't hold any momentum with this kind of ball.

Whyatt had a lucky early drive after a terrible punt from us set them up for the start of their drive at midfield. Their quarterback wasted no time, hitting a quick slant for eight yards. Our defense tightened up on the next play, stuffing a run for no gain, but on third down, they caught us with another slant, threading the ball through a narrow window for the first down.

Their pace picked up, running a no-huddle offense that kept our defense scrambling. Two quick outs later, they were within field goal range. Our defense managed to shut down the next three plays, but they were close enough to still put up points, and their kicker split the uprights from twenty-five yards out.

With that, the score was twenty to fourteen.

We weren't out of it, unless we wanted to be. There was still a lot of time in the fourth quarter to pick up a touchdown and a field goal and tie it up, but not if we grinded it out. Unfortunately, it seemed like we wanted to be out of it.

"We're not out of it yet," Coach Holloway said as we prepared to take the field again. "Stick to our game and we can win this. Grind it out, wear them down. No need for heroics."

He had to see there wasn't time to ground anything out. Not that he'd listen to me.

The kickoff put us at our own twenty. Jerry took the first handoff, barreling through the line for three yards before being taken down by their middle linebacker. The next play was a sweep to the left, but their cornerback sniffed it out, wrapping Jerry up at the line of scrimmage. Third-and-seven.

Coach called for a quick pass. I dropped back, half hoping one of the guys would say screw it and take off long, but they held to their routes, with Mickey breaking his coverage and crossing over four yards out.

I didn't have time to wait as the pocket started to collapse, and zipped the ball to him. He caught it and turned upfield, but was brought down two yards short of a first down.

Coach signaled to go for it, which was a bit of a shock.

The play was a dive up the middle, which wasn't a bad call for fourth down with two yards to go. It was also exactly the play the defense thought we'd run. I took the snap, turned, and handed it off to Jerry. He hit the line hard, but their defense stacked the box, driving him back before he could stretch for the marker.

Turnover on downs.

Jerry slammed the ball into the turf as he got up, muttering under his breath. I felt the same frustration. The defense had been sitting on our running game all night, and we'd just walked right into it over and over again.

Whyatt's offense came back out, chewing up clock with short runs and quick passes, playing our game now that they were up and wanted to eat time. Our defense held as best they could, forcing a punt after a long, grinding drive, but by the time we got the ball back, less than five minutes remained.

Coach's conservative approach didn't change. The first play was another off-tackle run, this time by Miles, I guess hoping to catch them by surprise by sending handing it off to our tight end. Miles did pretty well, actually, fighting for three yards before being brought down. The second play was a fullback dive, and Joe managed two more. Third-and-five. I dropped back for a short pass, but their blitz came fast, forcing me to dump it off to Jerry in the flat. He was tackled almost immediately, leaving us short of the sticks.

Coach waved for the punt team. I wanted to scream.

"We're not gonna win by giving them the ball back!" I said to Jerry as we jogged off the field.

"Tell him that," Jerry muttered, jerking his head toward Coach Holloway, who looked pissed, like this was someone's fault other than his own.

Whyatt took over and ran the ball relentlessly, grinding the clock down to its final seconds. When the whistle blew, the scoreboard was still at twenty to fourteen. We'd lost.

I ripped off my helmet as I trudged off the field, sweat dripping into my eyes. I was pissed.

Hey, you played a hell of a game," Mickey said, clapping me on the shoulder. "We'll get 'em next time."

"Yeah, man," Jerry added. "You kept us in it. Not your fault."

I forced a nod, but it only helped a little bit. I felt I'd played okay, and really everyone had, but it didn't matter when the game plan had us shackled.

As we reached the fieldhouse, Coach stopped me. "Good effort, Sims. Stick with it."

I wanted to tell him where to stick it, but I was not dumb enough to actually say it out loud.

Instead, I just said, "Yes, Coach."

I even managed to keep the bitterness out of my voice. I dropped onto the bench in front of my locker, staring at the floor as the sounds of post-game chatter filled the room. The praise from my teammates and the coach's platitudes couldn't really make me feel better.

This was my first game with JV and I know no one was expecting miracles, but we could've won that game if we'd just taken some chances. I think I would have preferred if someone had screwed up. Then, at least, there'd be something to do about this.

As it was, if we kept just grinding it out, we'd end the season in the middle of the pack at best.