Ty began to thread his way to the right side of the field and waited for his blocking to get set. When the team was ready, he planted his outside foot and cut upfield. He was simply faster than everyone else. St. Joe’s punter was the last man Ty had to beat, and somehow the punter tackled him. Ty looked to be as shocked as everyone else that the kid had pulled it off.
The football rested on St. Joe’s 30 yard line. Trent led the team out, and they huddled up. When they lined up, I saw that St. Joe had slipped a safety up to prevent the run. I was glad to see that Trent spotted it and audibled to a pass play. On the snap, St. Joe blitzed with almost everyone they had. Ty had gone to the flat as the safety valve. Trent had a linebacker in his face, so he spun and threw the ball to Ty.
This was a pass we practiced daily, and I knew that if you got it to Ty, he could get positive yardage. Trent short-armed the ball, and it looked like it would end up at Ty’s feet. The safety that had snuck up stepped in front of Ty and grabbed the ball. Ty gathered himself and chased the St. Joe defender down the field. It was now their fans’ turn to get on their feet and cheer. Ty caught him on our 15 yard line to prevent the touchdown.
Three plays later, we were down 7–0.
From that point forward, you could see that Trent had lost his confidence. It was either that, or he suddenly became color-blind and threw the ball to the wrong team. By halftime, we trailed 28–3, and Trent had more interceptions than completions.
I got up to go to the locker room when Moose stopped me.
“Coach Hope doesn’t want you to be a distraction.”
Coach Mason called me to get my take on what I’d seen and then handed the phone to Coach Rector. I shared what I knew and then kicked back to wait for the second half.
◊◊◊
Midway through the third quarter, we were behind 31–3, and I’d seen enough. I sent a text to Doc Grog to meet me in the locker room. I got up, and Moose stopped me.
“Where are you going?”
“To fix this,” I said and left the press box.
I met Doc on the way to the locker room.
“What’s it going to take for you to help me get on the field?” I asked. “I think this counts as an emergency. We’re way behind, and I can’t see Trent bringing us back.”
He took me in and had me go into the training room in shorts and a t-shirt.
“I’m going to give you Toradol. It’s the same class of drug as Advil. We use it at State for game days. I think you’ll like the results,” Doc Grog told me, and then gave me a shot.
While it took effect, he taped my ankles, taped additional padding to my ribs, and then sent me to go get dressed. When I had my gear on, he found me before I left the locker room.
“How do you feel?” Doc Grog asked.
“Like frickin’ Superman. Everything is numb. This is great!” I shared.
“Be careful out there. The euphoria is temporary. You’re not 100% yet, even though you might feel like you are,” he warned.
I moved around and twisted my torso. It felt like I’d never been hurt. They should have given me Toradol weeks ago. I grabbed my helmet and jogged out of the locker room.
The clock for the third quarter was winding down, so I waited until it expired. As the teams changed end zones, I strolled out onto the field to get to our side. I had walked perhaps five yards past the sideline when our fans figured out it was me. The place erupted. I jogged up to Coaches Hope and Mason.
“What are you doing?” Coach Hope asked.
“Doc Grog gave me Toradol. I’m ready to go,” I explained.
“In the NFL, we call it ‘Vitamin T.’ He should be fine,” Coach Mason said.
I could have kissed him on the lips for saying that. Coach Hope looked back at our fans and shook his head. If he left me on the bench, he would be looking for a new job come tomorrow.
“This is against my better judgment …” was all he got out before I ran onto the field.
Trent saw me coming, and relief showed on his face.
“Sorry, I think I put us into a hole,” he said as he jogged past me.
I got in the huddle and cut the chatter before it got started.
“Huddle up. We’re down by four touchdowns with only a quarter to play. I need you to hustle every chance you get. If you can get out of bounds, do. Be mindful of the clock.”
We lined up and snapped the ball. St. Joe decided to test me right off the bat. They sent a linebacker and their safety to blitz me like they had Trent on his first play. But there was a difference. Like Trent, I recognized what they were doing. Unlike Trent, I was experienced and had elite athletic ability. I waited for the linebacker to clear our blockers and then darted through the hole he’d made. I felt great as I was suddenly five yards down the field. Me tucking the ball and running was apparently the last thing St. Joe expected.
