Wolf shook his head at that. We got serious, and I called the play. Coach Mason wanted to put them back on their heels right off the bat. All my receivers were going deep except for Ty, who would flare out as my safety valve in case I came under pressure.
“Down. Set. Hut, HUT!”
Roc, Phil, and Wolf all ran fly routes straight up the field. Jake ran a slant that would put him just behind Wolf and Phil. The hope was that it would pull the safety to help defend him and leave Roc one-on-one. I made a point to stare down Phil to help influence the defense even more.
“Red! Red!” Ty screamed to indicate that someone had a free shot at me.
Half a heartbeat later, I was hit by the corner that was supposed to be defending Roc. I will give the kid credit, he hit the heck out of me. The problem was that he was five-eight and probably 150 pounds. I’m six-four and 225 pounds. If I hadn’t worked hard in the dojo, his hit would have taken me off my feet. Something he did not do right was wrap me up. His hit staggered me, and I spun to twist out of his hold. I knew when to cut our losses and flipped the ball to Ty.
Ty was able to pick up ten yards for the first down.
For the next snap, we called the same play. Coach Mason had yelled from the sideline, “RSP!” which meant ‘Repeat Successful Plays.’ Picking up the first down made it successful. He would hammer them with this play until they could stop it. Too many times, teams would find a play that worked and then never come back to it. It was something that drove me crazy.
“Down. Set. Hut, HUT!”
This time, they sent their linebacker up the middle on a delayed blitz. Johan was helping block one of their linemen and had to release him to stop the linebacker. He got back on his heels and fell back into me. My foot caught under his thigh, and I had to jerk back to get free. It looked like I’d jumped back when we saw it on the game film on Monday. When I gave ground, it gave the defensive ends a better angle to get to me.
Usually, I would’ve peeled off to one side or the other to give myself room to operate. But I saw downfield that Wolf was open now. I stepped forward, and my foot wasn’t able to fully stride because there was a pile of linemen at my feet. I unleashed a ball that was all arm, but it hit Wolf in stride.
Eastside’s defensive end launched himself at me and stuck the crown of his helmet into my ear hole, so I didn’t get to see Wolf score.
I would call Tami after the game and personally thank her for finding my new football helmet. If I’d been wearing what our team handed out, I would have had a concussion, without a doubt. It did ring my bell, but I could tell I would be okay. The defensive end was another story. He’d landed on me as I fell onto the pile of linemen. The referee sprinted up.
“No one move! He may have a neck injury.”
Everyone who could be was pulled out of the pile. That left Johan, their linebacker, and me that had to remain still. Both sets of training staff sprinted out. It seemed like it took forever for them to get him onto a backboard and loaded into an ambulance. I was relieved to see him moving his hands and feet.
I’d seen where an injury like that will take the intensity out of a game. Something like that reminds us that there are things more important than a game. What it did here, though, was set the tone for what was to come.
On the ensuing kickoff, one of our sophomore linebackers was blindsided on a block. I swear that if he hadn’t tightened his chin strap, his helmet would have gone flying. We all held our breath as he lay on the field. It turned out he was okay, but it definitely pissed the rest of us off.
Before we ran out on defense, Tim huddled the guys together briefly.
“This is getting scrappy, and you’re going to get pissed-off if you aren’t already. Use that anger to focus even more! Don’t let it force you into mistakes just because you’re mad,” Tim said.
They all nodded, and we took the field.
I lined up next to Tim, and we surveyed the Eastside formation. They usually spread everyone out to force us to cover the whole field. This time, they had four receivers lined up on my side of the field and only one on Tim’s. I looked at Tim.
“Bubble screen,” I told him as I ran out to help, leaving him to man the middle.
A bubble screen was when a receiver on the outside ran towards the quarterback on the snap to receive the ball. Either receivers or pulling linemen will try to outnumber the defenders to give the receiver room to run. If done correctly, it’s almost impossible to defend against.
I read it correctly and darted between all the blockers to make the tackle. When we saw it on film on Monday, it looked like Eastside was set up for a big gain; their blockers had gained a good head of steam. Then I flashed through all of them, and the receiver’s momentum changed instantly from moving forward to flying backward to land on his butt.
