All the coaches had big smiles when Riverside ran the predicted play and only gained a yard. If they followed their pattern, their next would be a pitch to the right. We called a cornerback blitz to that side of the field. Right before the snap, Ed had begun to shuffle towards the end of the line. On the snap, he sprinted into the backfield untouched. Riverside’s quarterback faked the handoff up the middle and turned to toss the ball to their tailback. He saw Ed just as he began to pitch it and ended up short-arming it. If he hadn’t, Ed was in a position to either disrupt the play or intercept the lateral. The ball was on the ground, and Ed was right there to jump on it. The whole stadium erupted with cheers and the ringing of cowbells as he landed on it. It was now first and ten for the good guys on our opponent’s 18 yard line.
Trent led our offense onto the field and handed the ball to Ty three times for the score.
On the next series, we intercepted a pass. Coach Rector had pulled one of his sneaky moves where it looked like a receiver was open, but he’d snuck a linebacker underneath to try to pick it off. This time, Jake was in position to leap and tip the ball up, and it came back down into his arms. He showed both his speed and his moves as he weaved through their team for the score. In the first four minutes, we were already up 14–0.
On the eighth play, Riverside was supposed to run a dive to the right between the center and guard. I spotted their tackles rock back and drop their outside foot, indicating a pass. We had an all-out blitz called that was precisely the wrong play if they ran play-action, where they would pull the ball from the runner and throw it. With all our players sucked in playing the run, it would be simple to toss it over their heads and count on your receiver slipping one tackle attempt to score.
“Call time!” I yelled at Coach Hope.
Thank goodness he didn’t stop to think about it. I looked across the field and saw their coach throw his clipboard on the ground. We were in his head, and he wasn’t sure how we knew what he planned to do.
When the defense came over, Coaches Hope and Rector looked at me.
“Their tackles indicated a pass. We were about to give up a big play,” I explained.
“I didn’t see it,” Tim admitted.
“Okay, going forward, I’ll have David clap if it’s a pass play,” Coach Rector suggested.
I didn’t call him out on it, but I suspected he’d missed the linemen’s stance, too. As a quarterback, one of my main jobs was to read the defense. If you knew what to look for, teams gave off little tells showing what they planned to do. The good ones then used false tells to trap you. It was a game of cat and mouse, and you hoped you were the cat most of the time.
By halftime, Riverside hadn’t crossed the 50 yard line, and we’d punched in two more scores to make it 28–0. Not only did we have the lead, we would get the ball to start the second half.
Coach Hope split us up between offense and defense. I went over with the offense to hear what Coach Mason had to say.
“We’re going to open it up in the second half and start to pass the ball. You think you’re up to that, Son?”
“Yes, sir,” Trent said with confidence.
The second week of preparation had been what he needed. He looked like the cocky leader I’d seen when I came back from playing baseball.
In the second half, we steamrolled them. With the addition of the short passing game, Riverside could no longer just play the run. That opened up the field for Ty to do what he does best. He ended up scoring six touchdowns and rushing for 410 yards. The final score was 59–7.
◊◊◊
There are no direct flights to Tuscaloosa, Alabama, unless you take a private charter. Because this was an official visit, we had to fly commercial. The closest airport we could get a flight to was Birmingham. From there, the University of Alabama had a bus take us from the airport to the hotel we were staying at. By the time we got there, we were all exhausted. With all the other recruits and their families arriving at the same time, check-in was total chaos.
Some poor lady, who looked to be my mom’s age, had three babies to contend with. They were all crying, and nothing she tried worked. Mom looked like she was having flashbacks from her two weeks of watching all our little ones.
“Go help her,” she ordered me.
I walked over to her and smiled.
“Mind if I help?” I asked the woman. “I seem to have a way with little ones.”
That was when I got a close look at them. There were two little boys who had curly blond hair and blue eyes, and a little girl with black hair and brown eyes. If I didn’t know that Coby was at home, you could have convinced me that either of these boys was him. I blinked a few times and froze. Could it be?
“Mom, Dad, get over here,” I called.
I picked up the little girl.
“Hello, Angel. What’s your name?” I asked.
If I was right, she was just a few months older than Coby. She blinked at me and stopped crying. I handed her to Dad.
“What’s going on?” Mom asked.
